All the mmmagic we can muster

Brandy's was one of the first blogs I came across and I've been hooked ever since. She is funny and clever and kind and at least once a month makes me want to stop everything in my life to go work with children because she makes it sound so worthwhile.

Unfortunately right now she is living proof that bad, scary, awful things do happen to good, lovely, wonderful people and she is reaching out in every direction for help and hope.

Let's reach back.

My name is brandy. And I have a blog.

And a plea.

I use my blog to showcase the crazy I meet everyday, share the stories of the kids I teach and document my love for tequila, dairy products and the abdominal muscles of Ryan Reynolds. Rarely do I talk about personal issues on my blog- as personal as the dude that I adore (who I actually met through my blog- single ladies, let that be a very good reason to blog, the possibility of meeting someone as wonderful as my man), but I need your help. And it involves my dude.

He's a guy who made math comics for my class, so they would love learning about addition. He's the kinda guy who sends my friends gift cards when they are having hard times, who remembers every story I ever told him, who was the first person I celebrated with when I got a teaching job. He's the guy who sent flowers to me at school- dozens of my favourite pink roses just because he loves me. He's a guy who has spent a year patiently explaining (and re-explaining) everything there is to know about football during the important games when silence is preferred. He's made me word puzzles and comics and stayed up late playing Scrabble with me (even though I beat him almost every time). He's listened to me cry about school and family and jobs. He is everything I never knew I needed and everything I always knew I wanted.

The holidays have hit us hard. He's recently been told he may have something called multiple myeloma- an incurable cancer, that gives a person an average of five years of continued life. Though this news has came as a shock, he continues to be exactly who has always been- spending his time worrying about me, rather than worrying about himself. He's the most selfless individual I know- (he stayed late on Christmas Eve to work, so his co-workers could leave early) and a post like this would never be something that he would promote or encourage but when I'm overwhelmed and feeling helpless, the blogging community has always given me tremendous support and comfort, two things I desperately need at this time.

As I write this, the future is uncertain and we aren't sure what's happening. He'll need to see an oncologist soon, to verify what's going on in his body. My hope is that everyone who reads this think positive thoughts and if you are a person who prays, could you add him to your list? (You can refer to him as 'brandy's hot awesome dude'). If you don't pray, please keep him in your heart.This cancer is only a possibility and I believe that the prayers and positive thoughts of people can make sure it never becomes a reality.

I want to give a big thank you to the blog owner who scraped their original blog plans and graciously put this up. My goal is to get as many people as possible to see and read this post. If you are reading this and want to help, copy and paste my plea into your blog or send a link through twitter, so more people can keep him in their thoughts. I would be so very grateful (even more grateful than I am to my friend who first showed me the picture of Ryan Reynolds on the cover of Entertainment Weekly. If you haven't seen it, google it. You. Are. Welcome).

I realize this all sounds dramatic, a Lifetime movie in the making- but this is life. Right now. And I'm throwing away any hint of ego and am humbly asking for you to pray or think kind thoughts. If you are able to pass this on, thank you and if you know anything regarding MM- please email me (my email is on my blog). This isn't a call for sympathy or a plea for pity. It's just one girl hoping you can think positive thoughts for the person she adores. If my current heartache provides you with anything, let it be with the reminder that life is short, love is unbending and no one knows what could happen next. Maybe it is silly, but I really do believe that positive thoughts can make a huge difference. Thank you for reading this and if you haven't already? Please tell someone you love them today.

I did.

Birds are jerks

Once in a blue moon the parking lot behind the newspaper office actually has more than six cars in it and I'm forced to park far away from the doors at the edge of the lot.

This was the case yesterday when I arrived back from lunch. So I found a spot and made a tip toe dash across the icy lot to the warmth of my desk.

No problem.

A few hours later I began making my way back to the car when I stopped in my tracks and burst out laughing.

There is a line of trees that grow along the perimeter of the lot and they were all completely bare save one.

In the tree directly above my car were no less than 60 birds. The tree to the left? Empty. To the right? Nada. All of the other trees within sight? Bird-free.

They watched me quietly, snickering to each other under their bird breath, as I gingerly made my way over to the Hot Pursuit (my grandparents named my vehicle).

Sure enough they had clearly spent a productive afternoon redecorating my car.

I honestly can't think of any bad karma I've put out there lately. I've been a busy little elf, making hats and cookies and hand-painted Christmas cards, conducting myself admirably, or at least not terribly at holiday parties and you know, just generally spreading the good cheer.

So it's safe to assume that I've either annoyed a Disney villain who has semi-incompetant minions or I'm being punished for being such a lackadaisical blogger lately.

My sincerest apologies either way.

A little dab'll do ya

This morning on my way to work I noticed a hint of a tickle lingering in the back of my throat. Now, it's entirely possible that this was solely due to my woefully bad decision to attempt to match Kelly Clarkson note for note in the car at top volume. But I'm not taking chances.

Therefore as I type I am in the process of consuming a heaping bowl of liptons chicken noodle which I've garnished with a revolting amount of garlic and red pepper flakes. Next, I will eat a giant orange and drink as much tea as I can in a two-hour span. While I may have to empty my bladder 40 thousand times during my coverage of the local council this evening, it will all be worth it because this tickle will have been frightened back to whence it came by morning.

Or so I am convinced.

I'm a big fan of home remedies for all sorts of things. As a rule, they're usually cheaper, more environmentally friendly, and arguably healthier than whatever brightly packaged fix you could pick up at the grocery store.

Except on rare occasions, I don't find it necessary to clean my bathroom or kitchen with anything more than various combinations of water, vinegar and baking soda depending on the surface.

I use nylons to rub deodorant marks out of dark clothing and gargle salt water any time my gums act up.

The other day after discovering too late that the batch of jalepenos I was cooking with was more potent than usual, and lying awake thinking my hand was about 8 seconds away from spontaneously bursting into flame, I learned that vegetable oil is quite soothing on pepper burns.

I know I can't be the only one who likes to eschew a store bought solution when possible. Any other helpful home remedies I should add to my list?

At least the day ended with cupcakes

Yesterday I had the distinct pleasure of interviewing a local author who recently had her second book published and wanted a little publicity for her upcoming book signing. We chatted about plot, inspiration and how she became a writer and then I just had to ask,

"And how old are you?"

"I'm nine!" she beamed up at me.

It took everything in me not to drop my pen and curl up under my desk in defeat as a strangled, "Annnd I'm 24" made its way past my lips.

"What?"

"Cough, Aaah, so you were saying you're mostly focused on fiction at this point in your career?"

Nothing like an overachieving nine-year-old to throw your life's work sharply into hi-def.

Her book was about a girl who is obsessed with pink and has to be put on a colour diet.

I came home, put on a pink t-shirt and baked myself some pink (ok, technically red velvet-yum!)cupcakes in protest.

Take that, adorably precocious, single digit aged kid. You may be a successfully published author, but I can use an oven without proper adult supervision!

Win.