Mental meanderings of a female Facebook addict

A few days ago, while I made my daily habitual perusal through the lives of my “friends” as expressed by way of their “update status” and other “news feed” announcements, I noticed that a “Friend” had posted a new album named for his new baby girl. I understand this to be his second child and how do I happen to know this? Well, because the same medium a few years ago also informed me of the birth of his first child – a son.

The medium then permitted me to unobtrusively browse through the 20 or so snapshots of this man’s life. I bore witness to intimate moments. One of him with his arm around his lovely wife and baby in the delivery room and he, of course is beaming with the pride and joy expected of a father of a growing and healthy family. Another shows his little boy bestowing a delicate kiss upon his new sister’s tiny forehead. Then, there were many others of family and friends welcoming their new bundle of joy.

I have known this “friend” for over 7 years, since we first met as engineering coop students. Thrown together by circumstance, we, along with a handful of other coop students bonded over 8 months worth of coffee breaks, lunches, and after-work bubble tea runs. I remember we’d indulge in the occasional gossip about one particular coop student in regards to his apparent gambling problem. The young addict on several occasions would show up to work in the same outfit as the previous work day and sheepishly admit to having spent the entire night at the casino. We would inquire about his winnings, and with a nonchalant chuckle, he might respond: “Ahhh...lost about $400 at poker, but it’s not a big deal if you just think of it as the cost of the entertainment.” I wonder where this fellow is now, and if he has grown out of his gambling habit.

As for the “friend” with the new kid, we haven’t seen or spoken to one another in person, nor on Facebook for that matter, for at least 3 or 4 years. The amicability developed from that 8 month work term years ago has since dissipated. In fact while I was viewing his photos, I noticed in myself, an evident absence of the fondness and excitement that should be accompanied by seeing a friend’s new child. Instead, some of my initial thoughts were “Whoa! Two kids already!”, which was followed by a quick spin of my mental Rolodeck to some other FB acquaintances that have also been categorized and labeled as “married, with kids.” Those fleeting comparisons were so subtle that I almost didn’t notice what had occurred. But being the pensive person that I am (not really), I’ve been chewing on this moment, and trying to make sense of how these daily, socially-condoned, yet none-the-less voyeuristic activities might affect me and others alike.

Being a female in my late twenties, and living in a relatively socially conservative city, where people seem to marry rather young, no matter how independent, progressively minded, and professionally developed one is, one can still be sometimes sensitive to the fact that one has not yet reached certain pivotal personal milestones. (Side Note: I've heard the average age of first marriage in Canada is about 30 for women, but I'd say the average among my friends is more like 25. One time I even heard someone joke that this province’s motto should be “Alberta: The place where everyone finds their one true love by age twenty-one). Anyways, over the past decade, I have grown well accustomed to close friends getting engaged, hitched and having babies; and it has been an honor and pleasure to have shared in the joy of their entry into new life stages. Truth be told, there have been times when I’ve experienced jealousy. But because they are your friends and people that you care about, you know you need to get over those unhealthy pangs of self-centeredness or envy, and just be happy for them.

But most would agree that Facebook friends are certainly not all real life friends, especially if your friends number in excess of 500. Thus, when you are greeted with new engagement/wedding/baby album on a weekly basis, it in essence transforms into a personalized demographic survey that may very well serve to reinforce the insecurities and fears that are typical for single women around my age and older.

I would hypothesize that the impact from some of these Facebook album browsing events on a woman’s satisfaction on their life and personal accomplishments are akin to the impact that reading main stream women’s magazines has on a woman’s body image. The difference is at least with the magazine models, the readers know that the hyper-attractive, uber glam images before them are not real. We all know they have been professionally airbrushed and stylized for the sake of marketing and to spur on materialistic hedonism. But the images on Facebook are real; and in near real time, they too are intentionally and inadvertently, consciously and subconsciously marketing to us the lifestyles and activities of individuals who happen to be on our friend list. Among its many uses, Facebook is a very powerful peer-to-peer lifestyle advertising platform, and therefore we should be mindful of how its use may subliminally contribute to our sense of contentment.

A few months ago, a female friend of my made another interesting observation when she complained to me: “Okay, I don’t get it. How come whenever someone announces on Facebook that they’re getting married or having a baby or their baby just did/said something cute. They immediately get a million comments? But when my update status says I’m going to Africa for a month or I’m about to get another degree, I get like… 4 comments?” She goes to say, “Aren’t weddings and babies are so typical – how come I don’t get any recognition for doing things that are unique?” I nodded in agreement. It is true. One does not get as much acknowledgement for being “different” on Facebook (although hilarity is generously acknowledged), and I’d say it is a matter of relateability and relevance. Almost everyone gets married and raise kids. Thus they can better relate to and be reciprocative (on Facebook) to others who are expressive of the day-to-day delights and tribulations involved with it.

Now being a graduate student, you may think what you’re working on is the most fascinating, socially/scientifically/economically relevant topic in the whole wide world. Your friends, classmates and family members might regularly “Like” your mention of recent academic accomplishments. A few may provide online edification of your latest update on how you're about to head off to yet another conference in yet another exotic locale (London/Istanbul/Rio). But you simply can't expect the same level of affirmation as updates about wedding anniversaries, potty training, cookie baking, sleepless nights and croupy coughs. So, to my dear grad student friends, just keep your expectations low next time you excitedly announce that you’ve won a $25,000 grant to study the impact of intervention ABC on the problem of XYZ in the country of Kulalamuzerpherstan.

Oh Facebook, in spite of all the grievances that I’ve uttered against you, I still <3 you!

That’s the way the cookie crumbles

I bet Stephen Duckett never in his wildest imagination would have ever thought that he could get fired due to a few flippant words that he threw to a horde of media minions while rushing out of a high profile Alberta Health Services board meeting. By now, every Albertan has heard the infamous five little words that would become the proverbial nail in the coffin of his tenure as the figurehead of the Alberta Health Services.

Yesterday, Premier Stelmach, in between voicing his disappointment over the loss of Edmonton’s chance for EXPO 2017 and oh, I don’t know… maybe something about the oil sands haters, exclaimed with much exasperation that he found Duckett’s words to be quite offensive. Then, less than 24 hours later, I hear the breaking news on CBC radio on the drive home from work – Dr. Stephen Duckett is officially fired.

Really?? Really?? Since when was brushing off media just cause for job termination? As for offensive, Dr. Duckett could have said far worst things. For instance, how about “Leave me the hell alone, you red neck Albertans – perhaps the emergency rooms wouldn’t be nearly as busy if you didn’t hurt yourselves on snowmobile, quads, and hunting accidents!” Perhaps, he was actually thinking something more along those lines, but he decided to bite his tongue, err…I mean, cookie instead. Oops.

Isn’t it rather common to see government officials on the news refusing to comment to reporters, and I can’t recall any of them in the past being let go for it afterwards. Many would agree that Ducket’s comments were quirky and rude, but does it warrant sending him packing back to the land down under.

Personally, I think his comments don’t hold a candle to some of the other truly scandalous shenanigans that have been recently exposed.

For instance, Gary Holden, the CEO of Enmax, a large utility company owned by the City of Calgary did not get the boot when it was reported that he had been using company funds to host lavish parties featuring “rock stars” (albeit B-list Canadian ones) in his private residence. The only fallout from that was that the company is now required have better reporting of their executives’ earnings to the public, annnd… I heard that they recently begrudgingly cancelled the Blue Rodeo Concert / staff Christmas Party, due to budget cuts. (Why can’t Mr. Holden just pay the band the $70,000 that they demand out of his salary of $2.7 million?)

Tony Hayward was the CEO of BP during the April 20th explosion aboard the Deepwater Horizon rig off the gulf shore, which killed 11 workers. The spewing rig was finally plugged three month later, but not before discharging 4.4 million barrels of oil into the ocean. Throughout the ordeal, Hayward, too, couldn’t help but make a few asinine comments.

One month into the spill (mid-May), Hayward thought he would try the “look at the bright side” approach and said "The Gulf of Mexico is a very big ocean. The amount of volume of oil and dispersant we are putting into it is tiny in relation to the total water volume." Then two weeks later he whines publicly to reporters “I'm sorry. We're sorry for the massive disruption it's caused their lives. There's no one who wants this over more than I do. I'd like my life back.”

As a result of Hayward’s failure to project an acceptable and humble image of himself and the company during this unprecedented environmental catastrophe, he was relieved of his duties as BP’s CEO. But guess what? He still didn’t get totally fired. The company just demoted him to a cushy director level position with a BP subsidiary.

During a recent BBC interview, Hayward said something that I thought really mirrored Duckett’s plight. Hayward claimed that he understood why he had been "vilified and demonized" by the media. "You know, it's very difficult to hate a company; it's much easier to hate an individual," he said.

In Duckett’s case, the media might have overblown the situation, but Alberta’s Health Minister and Premier still could have chosen to ignore the media and remained loyal to him. But instead, they made him the scapegoat for all of AHS’ current woes. Our health care troubles are chronic and systemic. They stem from years of poor planning, inability to balance short and long term priorities, lack of funding to disease prevention and health promotion programs; and are aggravated by the consistent pattern of making of rash, costly decisions based on immediate political pressures rather than on best practice evidence from research and other jurisdictions. Our problems did not suddenly come about after we hired the cookie-loving, Australian health economist in 2009.

One of the senior engineers at my work loves to say, “an ounce of image is worth a pound of performance”. I’m starting to think that this could be our provincial government’s mantra.

Going to vote?

Two news stories this morning captured my interest. The first was in regards to the winner of the 2010 Nobel Peace Prize, Liu Xiaobo, a 54-year-old Chinese writer and democracy activist. Liu is currently serving an 11-year jail sentence for penning and spreading a political document, Charter 08 that called for democratic reforms and an end to China’s one-party rule. Charter 08 garnered much support via the internet and attained thousands of signatures from university students to professors, to even those within the Communist Party.

The 11-year sentence which started in December 2009 is the stiffest and longest that he has received. Previously, he had been jailed for 21 months for taking part in the Tiananmen Square protests in 1989. He also served another three years in a “re-education” camp between 1996 and 1999, for seeking the release of his cohorts in the Tiananmen Square demonstrations.

Apparently, the Chinese News networks were live streaming the award announcement but programming was immediately cut off upon the announcement of Liu’s name. Chinese government ministers were quick to express their anger over the award being handed over to “a criminal” and even suggested that this will have negative consequences for China-Norway relations.

The second story was about the Edmonton civic election and how election administrators have installed hands-free voting devices at advance polling stations. Because of this technology, for the first time, people who don’t have the use of their hands or fingers will be able to cast their votes anonymously, without requiring assistance from others in marking their ballots. The City representative sounded almost apologetic in explaining that due to financial constraints, the devices will only be available at advance polling locations rather than at all of the voting stations on October 18th.

What stark contrast between the two news stories?

In one culture, the political voice of each individual is so highly valued that its authorities are willing to make unique and expensive accommodations for even a small proportion of society, so that their ability to choose their civic leaders will not be hindered – even if the hindrance is as slight, yet valid, as the experience of perceived judgment or the awkwardness of having another person physically mark the ballot.

In another culture, the honor of a paternalistic government, and the peace and order of its entire society (at least the perception of it) are of such utmost importance that there may be no room for even a single voice of dissent.

On October 18th, I am going to vote. If not for any other reason, then simply as a sign of respect to all those that have sacrificed so much for the sake of bringing freedoms to their society that we already enjoy in ours.

"Tubahumurize" - to console and give hope

Last night I attended a presentation hosted by U of A’s School of Public Health. I had received information about the event on my email a few days ago and I knew that the talk was going to be about some sort of collaboration between the U of A’s Green and Gold Community Garden, located at south campus, and some NGO in Rwanda. Prior to the talk, I had learnt from the garden's website that all proceeds from the sale of produce grown there goes to support this particular NGO.

Being a former Global Health master’s student, I have gone to dozens and dozens of these types of “community development” presentations, and to be honest, over exposure can lead to a certain level of desensitization to matters that should otherwise be heart breaking for a person with a normal functioning sense of empathy.

So half heartedly and cynically I went, yet minutes into the presentation, I could not help but be drawn into the presenter’s touching personal story and be moved by his love for his country, a place known as “the Switzerland of Africa”, and what he describes as a beautiful land of a thousand hills.

Eloge Butera, the speaker, was only 10 when the 100-days genocide broke out, during which the brutal ethnically-fueled attacks led to the slaughter of nearly one million of his Tutsi countrymen, among which included his best friend, his father, and up to 100 members of his extended family. During this time his mother did her best to provide for her three kids and to keep them safe, and but years later when the post-genocide tension and volatility did not subside, she decided to send her eldest son, Eloge, alone to Canada in hopes of a brighter future for him. Now 26, not only does his future seem bright, he also seems to be a man that knows his purpose in life. Other than being an international law student at McGill University, Eloge has been a passionate spokesperson for human rights and has also been working tirelessly to garner awareness and support for his mother’s NGO, Tubahumurize, a technical training and counseling centre in Kigali that provides education and rehabilitation to women whom have been victims of gender-based violence, war and genocide.

Eloge spoke poignantly about many things that I found to be foreign and incomprehensible. He spoke of the fear, distrust and anguish that many Rwandans feel when they still have to live side by side with neighbours that might have been responsible for the death of their family members. He spoke of the indignation that one feels when one's government is doing little to bring the perpetrators of genocide to justice. (Although he did recognize the challenge of trying to administer justice when the number of perpetrators are in the tens and even hundreds of thousands.)

He also spoke of the intense feelings of turmoil and disbelief in his own survival that have regularly engulfed him in the years following the killings. "Right after it happened, you think that everyone is dead and soon you will probably die too. But then a year passes, and you find yourself still alive. Two years pass, and you think surely I will not survive much longer. Now it's been ten years, and sometimes I still can't believe I'm alive and I wonder how much longer I am going to live."

It is hard to imagine the confident, eloquent young man that stood in front of me last night ever going through the depths of despair. But I guess one of the most admired human attributes is our potential ability to persevere through trials and tribulations. It is amazing how the human spirit can survive even the most horrendous tragedies, albeit damaged, but not destroyed.

Eloge lastly shared about how Rwandans are moving on and moving forward. Some Hutu's and Tuti's are covering hatred over with love through inter-ethnic marriages, which were not uncommon before the genocide. Some Hutu’s are actively seeking forgiveness and reconciliation in their communities. Others like Eloge’s mom have devoted their lives to rebuilding their country. In her case, it’s reaching out to traumatized women in Rwanda regardless of their ethnicity and nationality – in fact Tubahumurize serves both Hutu and Tutsi women as well as refugees from neighbouring countries like Burundi and Congo. Eloge also finds hope in the generosity of overseas supporters. “Volunteers of the Green and Gold garden in Edmonton are such enthusiastic contributors. They freely put in many hours of labour and tolerate countless mosquito bites, for the sake of Rwandans that they don't even know. All of this gives me hope and faith in the good of people.”

The experience last night kind of helped me expose my initial cynicism for what it is - a disguise for laziness and perhaps a bit of unjustified self-righteousness. He reminded me that, like the garden volunteers, I can vote for the kind of world that I want to live in through my actions. Yes, it is true that the volunteers' sweat and toil are not on the same level as the women in Rwanda, and they may not be able to ever completely identify with their pain and hardship. But through every seed sown and every weed pulled they are showing solidarity and love. His sharing reminded me that there is so much work that needs to be done and so many ways that one can live a life that counts.

For more information on the U of A Green and Gold Community Garden and how you can get your hands on some fresh produce, while supporting an excellent cause, go to:

http://www.publichealth.ualberta.ca/green&gold.cfm

EPIC fun

Last night was the third time that I have attended an event held by EPIC, a U of A student church, and every time I go, I come out of it feeling a bit more encouraged, refreshed and motivated to hang on to God just a bit tighter.

The event was held at an acreage just east of Sherwood Park, and the evening started off with a lamb roast. Julianna and I were running a bit late, and by the time we got there, the lamb had already been roasted, taken off the spit and carved. A few of the guys actually had been there earlier to either help out or just to witness the slaughter and preparation. Many people mentioned that they don’t think they could have eaten it had they first seen the lamb alive. 

(On a side note, isn't it typical for people to love their meat, but they would rather not have to think about the process by which it arrived on their dinner plate?  However, if the consumption of flesh is so normal, and an integral part of being an omnivorous  human being, then why does thinking about how the meat got there gross people out?  Could it be that there is a sort of underlying, persistence guilt associated with meat eating that each of us harbor? Nevertheless, people, including myself, will continue to try their darnest to compartmentalize the aspect of killing from the eating, until I guess they become vegetarian.  But I digress.) 

After supper, I had a great conversation with two girls that I had just met.  Literally within minutes of meeting them, the three of us had squeezed onto a swinging wooden bench overlooking a small lake surrounded by a dense, lush border of wetland greenery; and carrying on as if we had known each other for years.  The splendid conversation aside, every time that I find myself in the countryside, I am struck by the idyllic, enchanting ambience - especially its ability to quickly draw out and dash whatever worries or anxiety that happen to be enslaving my mind and spirit at the moment.

Anyways, I had about 7 years on these girls, both of whom had just finished 2nd year. But I marveled at their maturity, and passion for God and life. One girl had already traveled extensively and gone on several short term missions trips, but what really impressed me was when we were discussing her travels, she said she was really hesitant to make any statements about the people and cultures that she has encountered. 

“How can I only spend one or two weeks in a place, and think that I understand their culture enough be able to make generalizations or have an opinion about how they live?” she said.

I was utterly impressed.  It’s not often that I meet people who can humbly realize their own potential biases and ethnocentrism, and acknowledge that our western worldview, at least aspects of it, might not be the only right worldview out there.

Following the lovely girl talk session, I joined in on a few rounds of 2-on-2 Picko-ball, a fun hybrid version of tennis and ping pong, which I had only discovered for the first time! I found it orders of magnitudes more fun than tennis, ping pong or badminton combined - all of which I suck at.  But perhaps, a part of fun was that no one was taking it seriously and that we had spent as much time goofin' off and taking jabs at each other as playing the game. 

At around 9 o'clock, we wrapped up the games of Picko-Ball and beach volleyball, and gathered around a camp fire to listen to the brief sermon, given by Aaron, an intern from Taylor Seminary.

Keeping in mind what we had for dinner, it was very fitting that his talk would be about Jesus, as the Lamb of God. Of course I knew of the parallels between the Passover lamb in the Old Testament and Jesus. But his talk got me thinking about extending the parallels between the Jews’ subsequent exodus out Egypt and entry into the Promised Land, and our Christian walk. Yes, Jesus is our Passover lamb and because of his precious blood, God permits the punishment of death to passover us, but the story certainly does not end there. Just as the Jews had to leave their old life in Egypt and journey towards the Promised Land, we must also follow God out of our old ways and lives, in order to enter into our new life with Him. Just has the Jews’ disobedience, fearfulness and belligerence kept them in the desert for much, much longer that was intended, my own spiritual stagnancy, and neglectfulness of God can keep me from living life abundantly and being able to bask in His full glory.

Another good reminder came up during the sharing time, when one girl had spoken about the fear and uncertainty that she felt over making decisions about her future especially since her graduation. She really just said she wanted to surrender her desires. The concept of surrendering is nothing new nor earth shattering, but it still resonated with me. Surrendering is a fundamental part of being a follower of God. It is often at the back of my mind, but not something that I actively practice all the time.  Truth be told, I have not been surrendering my desires over to God lately; if anything, I have been holding them captive.  I have been fooling myself into thinking that God doesn’t know or care about them, nor does he know how to deal with them, and apparently I can do a much better job by obsessing and micromanaging them.  How scary that if I’m not careful, surely these desires and plans are bound to become my idols, won't they? 

Her words, though so simple, was a powerful prompt for me to re-orient myself and to make an intentionally effort to hand over my desires and plans to God everyday. I find great comfort in knowing that we do hear His voice and will for our lives through the simple truths spoken daily by the Godly people around us.

More importantly, I praise him for being infinitely gracious, and lovingly relentless in working to transform me to become the person that He wants me to be.

A Staycation to Remember

Some of the most fun moments in life can happen unexpectedly. The past Saturday was an example of such a day, one filled with a random assortment of wonderful activities.

Being an early bird, I, not uncharacteristically, woke up around 7:30 with massive hunger pains! Upon a quick scan of my fridge, I decided to make a quiche from what remained of my week-old produce collection. A red onion, a green pepper, a bunch of limpy asparagus, two roma tomatoes, and half a container of freshly grated parmesan cheese. As I started chopping the veggies, I thought what a pity that there was going to be so much leftovers. Why not call up some friends to come over for breakfast? 

About an hour after being rudely awakened, my friends Greg and Jessica arrive, both in cheery spirits, but understandably, still just a bit groggy.  Between bites of quiche and sips of tea, we had a lovely conversation that drifted between a number of lovely, lighthearted breakfast topics.  Ha! Not really.  We mostly chatted about the G8/G20 protests actually. For instance, the heavy-handed actions by the authority towards protestors; and how the media made it sound like the police arrested anyone that moved. Violent protestors, peaceful protestors, protestors that looked like protestors, protestors that were under disguise as tourists and joggers, along with any actual tourists and joggers.  We theorized about the circumstances under which we would ever consider joining a protest. Greg, ever the diplomat, acknowledged his appreciation of living in a country that allows for free speech and public expressions of dissent, but he didn’t know if he’d ever partake in a protest. While Jessica shared her thoughts and rationale over joining a recent protest that was held in response to Canada’s refusal to sign the UN Declaration on the Rights of Indigenous Peoples. As for me, I have yet to find myself so passionate or personally vested in a cause to have joined in a protest over it.  But never say never.  

Following the to-protest-or-not-to-protest discussion, Greg spotted my neglected guitar, which happened to be propped up against my neglected piano.

"May I?” He asked. 

“Sure.” I replied, and the next thing I know Greg is breaking out his mad guitar skills.  In the moments that followed, we found ourselves amidst an impromptu sing-along where Greg would start playing one of the many songs that he knew off the top of his head (including "Firefly"-Owl City, "I will follow you into the dark"-Death Cab), and we'd find the lyrics off the web and sing along.  It comforts me to know that if none of our day jobs pan out, maybe we can still make a living as a cover band or something.

After the mid-morning living room concert, we moseyed on over (drove) to the downtown farmers' market. Edmonton being the big small town it is, we bumped into several familiar faces. Well... it was mostly Jessica, who was bumping into family and friends left and right - literally. I bumped into one friend; and Greg, none. His buddies are apparently too cool for the market.

Lunch at the market included fresh raspberries, a rather disappointing chicken burrito that was kinda dry, flavorless and skimpy on veggies, and 1/2 of a scrumptious Jalapeno Cheddar Fat Frank that I mooched off of the one friend that I had bumped into (Thanks Tyler).

Following the market, we began perusing the various art and design exhibits on display at a number of different downtown venues, as a part of the Works - an annual, month-long Arts and Design Festival. One of the images still fresh on my mind include a very well-painted piece displaying a bright canola field set before an ominous darken sky that warns of an imminent early evening storm (wish I had the picture to show you). This kind of Ode-to-the-Prairies painting would certainly resonant with many of us that have driven on Alberta's highways during pre-storm summer evenings, and have personally witnessed the starkly contrasting colors between the land and sky, and thought it to be a bit surreal. 

Another noteworthy exhibit was one done by the U of A Design students that featured furniture made of different types of bioresidues such as hemp or hay. The crop residues were pressed into particle boards similar to what is currently used for making furniture. However, instead of concealing the building material with tacky facades and finishes, typical of cheap furniture, the chairs and coffee table are displayed proudly au natural. Some of the furniture surfaces had cool mosaic patterns made by piecing together different types of bioresidue boards.

By 4 o’clock, nearly 7 hours since the beginning of this staycation, all of us complained of needing a nap. So we went home, each to their own, and had a nap.

A bit anticlimactic, no? But, that’s not the end…

Around 7 pm, Jessica and I (sadly, sans Greg) drove to the deep south (Ellerslie) for a Deep Frying Party, hosted by my engineering buddy, Wayne Poon and his rag tag team of deep fry-happy hooligans. When we got there, we met Wayne in the backyard, who greeted us dressed in full personal protective gear - flame retardant coveralls, steel toed boots, and safety glasses. Why, you ask? Well, I'm guessing to prevent oil stains on his designer jeans or to not get hurt if an 8 kg deep fried turkey were to accidentally get dropped on his foot. But the real reason for dressing up is probably just because he CAN.

Going there I was hoping for some good deep fried turkey, but the scope of the menu exceeded my expectations beyond measure. To start, we had deep fried mozza sticks, onions rings, yam fries and mushrooms. Followed by the main courses - turkey AND crab legs. Lastly, for dessert we further indulged in deep fried Oreos, Twinkies, and Mars bars.  Just for the record, deep frying sugar, chocolate, and convenience store-bought cake, made of ingredients wholly derived from petroleum products is not too much for the palate - it tastes inexplicably amazing!   The smooth execution of the deep frying activities was impressive and obviously the result of some good planning. For instance, they had pre-prepared different types of batters, soaked the turkey in brine and seasoning for a day beforehand, and had enough oil on hand to change the oil between the dinner and the dessert items so that our sweet treats wouldn’t taste like onions and turkey.

It was a rockin good party. Kudos to Wayne, Eric, Jon and the others for organizing!

And that was the awesome finale to our 1st ever Staycation. Here’s to hopefully many more :)

Blogging + Work = Awesome

Thanks to encouragement from Raffaella Loro, COE's own social media princess, I've started blogging about work on the City of Edmonton's Blog.

My first entry is called "A cure for recycling anxiety".