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Why do I care so much? Well, I used to work for one that also went the way of the dinosaur.
I feel badly for not only all the customers (who will undoubtably get all the sympathetic press… I feel ESPECIALLY badly for the poor wedding party who now can’t get to their wedding destination) but also all the employees who are suddenly out of a job, in an industry where jobs are scarce.
Best of luck, guys. I feel for you.
What is this airline industry coming to?
“Anti-Bullying Day is a celebration of those who take action to stop bullies in our schools and around the province,” Premier Gordon Campbell said in a statement. Source: The Vancouver Sun
People are urged to wear pink to show support for the anti-bullying movement which started when a boy in Nova Scotia got taunted at school for wearing a pink shirt, inspiring his friends to show their support by wearing pink.
I’m wearing pink today as yes, a nod to Anti-Bullying day, but also in support of a broader vision – that everyone would consciously contribute to a world of love and kindness not only for our kids but for everyone.
Cheesy? Maybe. Sincere?
And after that, I dare you to NOT have Michael Jackson’s Heal the World running through your head for the rest of the day.
Rob left for Whistler today (for work but yes I’m sure he’ll fit a little fun in there) and so while I was cooking dinner tonight, instead of the usual pish-boom-bah video game noises or Law & Order grotessity for background noise, I flipped to one of my all-time fave shows, Pilot Guides. And lookee here! It was a special on Madagascar.
Do you ever have one of those moments where you remember a memory you had all but forgotten? And it resurfaces like a deep-sea diver, slowly, carefully, until it reaches the surface and then, it’s so strange and other-worldly that you hardly believe it’s a memory at all? It seems like something that you perhaps imagined, after too much daydreaming… (or too many episodes of Pilot Guides and Don’t Forget Your Passport).
Watching this show, murky memories of my own visit to this mysterious land resurfaced. And all of a sudden I remembered…
…waking up at the crack of dawn to follow our guide into the jungle to gaze in wonder at wild lemurs…
…lounging on utterly pristine, deserted beaches bordered with water the color of topaz and knowing we were probably among a dozen white people to have visited Ile Sainte Marie that year…
… driving along red, red roads with potholes that came almost to my knees…
… driving by people trudging along roads in the middle of nowhere, carrying poles with stacks of bananas at each end…
… being accosted by the sight of corrugated metal shacks juxtaposed with gigantic billboards advertising L’Oreal mascara in Antananarivo…
… sleeping swathed in mosquito nets and waking up in the night and reaching for a bottle of water only to realize just in time that a HUMONGOUS cockroach had claimed it as his resting place for the night…
…being toted around a once-grand-but-now-crumbly town (was it Toamasina?) in a pousse-pousse…
…renting bicycles from some semi-shady character (he said it was his friend’s bike?) and being followed by intensely curious yet intensely shy Malagasy kids who didn’t understand the concept of chewing the gum we gave them (I hope they didn’t have stomach aches because of us)…
… seeing vanilla growing on the vine…
… accidentally coming across a funeral procession (Malagasy remove ancestors from their tombs, dress them in fresh shrouds and party with them all night long once every few years)…
…following some entrepreneurial kids who gave us a guided tour of authentic pirate graves adorned with faded cross n’bones tombstones…
…trying to shoo semi-tame lemurs away from the jam pot as we tried to eat breakfast on the beach at a super-luxurious resort on the east coast…
Was it really me who saw all these things? It seems so long ago. I guess six years, when they’re packed with adventures and memories, can seem like sixty.
They’re memories I treasure. And I love dusting them off every so often – in fact, it’s necessary, to keep them alive.
And that grunting sound a lemur makes?
It’s one that buries itself in your mind, but you never really forget it.
The news spread like wildfire the day before yesterday over emails, phone calls, IMs and even Facebook status updates that actor Heath Ledger was found dead in a New York apartment (supposedly Mary Kate’s).
Now that the initial shock is over, news media the world over are all taking turns speculating about the cause of death. Was it an accidental drug overdose? A lethal drug combination cocktail? Pneumonia?
Preliminary autopsy results were inconclusive and gosh, they say it will take 10-14 days for full autopsy results to be released. How ever will we be able to wait that long?!
As I was pondering this today, it suddenly occurred to me… I KNOW HOW TO FIND OUT WHAT HAPPENED!!!
All we need to do is call up John Edward or one of the thousands of other people all over the world who claim to be able to talk to the dead!!!
Omigosh, I am so brilliant! I can’t believe no one has thought to do this yet!
C’mon all you psychic mediums out there!!!! Here’s your chance to prove that you really AREN’T just putting on an act!
Anyone out there? Here’s your chance, guys…?
***sound of crickets***
I was on the phone with Patti one day and we were talking about something or other… and in the middle of that conversation, I had to make some reference to a supermodel.
So I said, “…you know, like Christie Brinkley.”
“Christie Brinkley?!?!” Patti burst out laughing.
“Yeah…. What?” I asked, nonplussed.
“DUDE,” she exclaimed. “You are getting oooooold. Christie Brinkley was a supermodel, like, 20 million years ago! I can’t believe that when you thought supermodel, you thought Christie Brinkley!!!”
Of course, we both proceeded to laugh so hard we almost peed our pants.
(And as far as I’m concerned, she’s still supermodel-gorgeous.)