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Showing posts from January, 2013

We are better than that

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The thing about abortion is that it doesn't empower women.   Women don't choose abortion like they choose which dress to wear, they choose abortion as a last desperate action because they see no other option.  Instead of cultivating respectful, responsible relationships between men and women, abortion makes it a lot easier to be irresponsible and selfish. Feminist activist Michelle Kinsey Bruns writes this article:  The time I told a group of anti-choice teenagers about my abortion . "I could never get past the terrible trap that an unwanted pregnancy must seem to be to the person enduring it. I spent a lot of time, back then, thinking about imprisonment and escape." Dealing vs Deleting When you choose  to deal with the curve balls life throws you, the bars of a cage disappear.  Nothing can hold prisoner the person who chooses to deal with a thing.  In order to advance in life, you must overcome the obstacles and challenges thrown at you.  Sometimes, those ch

Domestic care of the home - a profession?

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I was given these questions to answer, some of which I answered rather briefly, as I'm not sure what anyone expected to learn from me, I am neither an expert nor very professional in the way I keep up my home, but I thought I'd post my answers here anyway.  I did try to be, if nothing else, honest. Check out From Chore to Job , where housework is taken seriously. Do you see the domestic care of the home as a profession, and if so, how does one make it "professional"? I see domestic care of the home not so much as a profession as a vocation.  Even then, it all depends on what we really mean by domestic care of the home.  If by that, we mean caring for our family and making it a good place to be, then it is a vocation.  If by that we mean keeping it neat and tidy and perfect-looking, then it is a chore. I am not professional in any sense of the word when it comes to my home.  I am disorganized and somewhat inconsistent.  The only real professi

101 Reasons to be happy, Reason number sixty-three

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Chicken soup Chicken soup is only chicken soup to the sad, empty realist. There is something in the marrow of the chicken bones that can only be released when boiled, some small magic, that, when released into the broth, becomes life-sustaining.  It brings comfort to the soul, soothes the mind, and puts a new spring into the steps of a weary traveler.

101 Reasons to be happy, Reason number sixty-two

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Bubble baths

Idle No More - My two cents

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I am a White woman, who grew up in Moose Factory, just south of Attawapiskat.  This is my perspective on Idle No More.  There are a lot of things, besides the problems with how First Nations are funded , or the problems with the Indian Act that Ezra Levant has pointed out; there is also the fact that whatever privileges Native peoples have, they need to stay on the reserve to receive them or to even be considered Status Indians. They lose their status if they leave. So they feel like prisoners. They hate the reserve, hate being stuck there, but are forced to stay there if they want their treaty rights. At the same time, even if they do decide to leave anyway, White society is an extroverted society. Introverted whites grow up in that, and they learn to deal with it. Native society is much more introverted. So it isn’t just another culture, it's also another personality-type of culture. I stayed for 6 months in Paraguay in 1993.  The similarities in culture between Paraguayans

101 Reasons to be happy, Reason number sixty-one

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Grumpy Cat Yes, ironically, Grumpy Cat makes me happy.

Who IS this person?

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Every once in awhile, I come across a person, seemingly of little distinction, who I may enjoy a few short conversations with but spend the rest of my time thinking of other things. And then this person says something, mentions something, or does something that catches my attention.  It may not be significant at first, but he or she will come up with something else, and yet again another thing. Then comes the day when something really makes me sit up and take notice.  It may be a small thing, but it brings all the other small things together and I think: "Who IS this person?"  And I am suddenly filled with the urge to discover him or her.  How does he think?  What does she do?  What are his interests?  What does she think of this idea or that event?  Where does he come from?  Where is she going?  What are his dreams?  What are her favourite past times? I imagine it must have been something like this for Jesus's disciples.  They liked him well enough, he was a bri