Happy Pride

This past weekend we celebrated Victoria Pride. It's always a lot of fun getting together with our friends and our community to celebrate what makes us special and (oh heck) FABULOUS!

We started the weekend with a selection of gin and tonics at a BBQ with great friends, followed by a drag show and dancing at Paparazzi; we finished up with the pride parade and festival.

One of my favourite parts of the parade isn't the floats or the ridiculous costumes, it's the walk from the parade to the festival. It feels more like a march, not in defiance, but in true celebration.

The last float is always from a nightclub and it's playing the stereotypical (and awesome!) music you'd expect to hear at this type of thing. Everyone is happy, waving to friends, and secretly pointing to others and saying, "I KNEW he was gay," or, "I didn't know they had a kid AND a dog!" There is something empowering about walking with this group of people.

In fact, I always choke up a bit around the halfway mark. It's humbling to me.

This is what I see when I look ahead, behind, and around me:

Thousands of Victorians of all shapes and sizes, ranging from happy young singles to happy (wiser?) married couples with their kids and dogs in tow. It doesn't matter if they're gay or straight, married or not; what matters is that they are there for a good time AND to celebrate that, yes, some of us are different.

It's always fun and it reminds me that it's not just okay to be gay, but it's actually a tonne of fun being out and PROUD. I'm lucky to live in a community that, for the most part, celebrates its diversity. I have a group of friends, family, and co-workers that not only accept, but embrace that I'm gay.

So, happy pride to all of you!

You look FABULOUS!

My Goodbye to Canada's Mum

When I read the news (on Facebook, where most news is gathered now) that Betty Fox was in hospice, I cried. Canada's mum was dying. It seemed so unfair.

When I read the news that she had passed away, I cried. A lot.

Terry, the foundation named after him, his family, and especially his mother, have a very special place in my heart.

I've never really been able to put into words my intense feelings for Terry Fox and the Terry Fox Foundation. I was only a baby when Terry died. I didn't learn about him until I was around 10 years old. I didn't really pay much attention until I was in university.

But, for some reason I started to study Terry. I've spent countless hours learning about Terry's life. I own books, memorabilia, coins, and shoes. I've watched made for TV movies, news broadcasts, and documentaries. I've even downloaded a Rod Stewart song. All because it was associated with Terry.

Maybe this is why I care so much:

Every day, for 142 days, Terry ran the equivalent of a marathon.

He ran 5,373 kilometres.

On one leg.

Or maybe this:

Terry changed how most Canadians looked at cancer. Apparently, when he started his run, most people referred to cancer as, "the Big C." No one wanted to call it what it was out loud for fear of getting it, or passing it on. When Terry was forced to end his run in Thunder Bay because his cancer came back, Canadians started to give. By then, people were calling cancer what it was...out loud. People weren't afraid. They were motivated. Something needed to be done. Money needed to be raised. Hurting needed to stop.

Or this?

To date, the Terry Fox Foundation has raised over $550 million for cancer research.

No. It's this:

I met Betty once, when she was in town to celebrate the unveiling of the statue at Mile 0. I had her attention, just me and her, for about 3 minutes. She was in the Palm Court at The Fairmont Empress, waiting for the introduction to the Crystal Ballroom where she was going to be honoured by Victoria and its citizens.

The first thing that happened was that I shook her hand. Then I teared up. Then I said how glad I was that I was able to meet her and how much her commitment and Terry's run had impacted how I lived my life.

Betty told me that she was thankful for the kind words and that, "today has been an incredibly tough day for me. But, with young people caring as much as you do, I know that what I'm doing is worth it."

Rest in Peace, Betty. You're with Terry now.

It's our turn to keep running.

Go...Canucks!?

Well, it took a while, but my mum won.

I'm actually going to root, cheer, and hope for the Canucks. To note: this post comes post-playoff loss and post-riot.

But, a few weeks ago, we went to Vancouver (to see Wicked -- am-ah-zing!) and got caught up in the post-show, post-game crowds on Granville Street. Vancouver had won game two in overtime.

The goal was scored about two minutes before the show was set to begin and the entire audience inside the Queen Elizabeth Theatre erupted into a roar and cacophony of cheers and whistles. One friend (to remain anonymous) thought it was that the show was beginning. I still giggle when I think about that.

After the game, walking down Granville through the jubilant, beer-fuelled crowd, I started to feel this little sensation inside me.

I actually wanted the Canucks to win, AND I cared about it. My mum has been cheering for the Canucks for years, so I know she is happy I'm going to support them. I'm actually happy too. I've followed the Patriots for years, and I'm kind of lonely this far from Boston. I used to watch and cheer for the Leafs before the lockout (when I decided hockey was a tad...shall we say...boring).

Now, I'm in Victoria, close to Vancouver, cheering for a team that most people around me LOVE.

Call it mob mentality...actually DON'T! Please!

Whatever that little feeling was has grown. Next year, like 40 years previous, the Canucks will take a run for the cup. I'll be there, trying to stay involved and engaged, cheering for them.

So...

Go Canucks go! (Go Patriots, too!).

oprah@oprah.com

Today was the day to say goodbye. I won't write much here.

I was a fan, not an ultimate viewer. I made a conscious effort to watch most of Season 25. I grew to truly appreciate her as part of my week; my day. Prior to this year, I watched it off and on.

I have a lot of respect for her. Blending the woman with the brand, Oprah is second to none.

I'm sure she's not perfect. In fact, I know it.

But, she has given a lot of herself.

She has inspired me over this past year to become more comfortable with myself, my life, my position, and my beliefs.

She's part of the reason why I started this blog.

Today, I posted this quote on my Facebook page and on Twitter:

"I hold true to the belief that everyone has a story to tell, and from every individual's experience there is something we can all learn."

Farewell Oprah.

Google Goes Gaga

And...I love it.

I did drink the kool-aid. I use chrome (ie9 couldn't handle blogger) and I love it. I listen to Gaga and I love it.

Call her the new Madonna. The next Britney. I love her zany costumes. Her stage presence.

Her joie de vivre.

But, most of all, I love her music. It makes me happy. It makes me want to sing. To smile. To laugh. To perform Halloween numbers with my word: "chin(s)" written in big black lettering on my white t-shirt.

I realized the other day when I posted this video on Facebook that I don't deal well with angry or mean people. I know those of you reading who know who I am are thinking, "is he serious?!"

Yes.

Although I might be one of those angry, mean people from time to time, I realize that I need to at least TRY be more happy and less angry.

So, what's the connection to Facebook and thinking about mean people is that often - around my friends especially - I'm afraid to tell people I like something because I'm worried they will either tell me things like (and I paraphrase):

• Really? You like Oprah. You know she's in love with Gayle.
• Lady Gaga?! Seriously? I'm so over her. Lady Blah Blah should be her name.
• Glee? You still watch that stupid show?
• Coors Light? What are you? A girl?!

Yes. I love Oprah. I love Gaga. I LOVE Glee. And, sometimes an ice cold Coors Light hits the spot the way nothing else can.

These things, and many others, make me happy. Very happy. They help me FEEL. They help me deal with the bad stuff all around us.

So, you know what?

No more backing down when you're mean or angry towards me when I tell you I like something. It's time I tell you without being afraid about you might say.

Are you ready?

Paws up!

Elizabeth Rex or Lizzie's Sexy Rexy

So, my darling husband is playing the lead male (female) role of Ned Lowenscroft in Elizabeth Rex at the Langham Court Theatre in Victoria, BC.

The shows start on June 8 and run through to June 25.

Tickets are $18 unless you're old (65+) or cheap (student) - then they're $16.

This means the inevitable dinner at home by myself every night, really only seeing him when he gets home after the show and it's time for bed, and of course, going to see it with all our friends!

I'm biased as to how good he is, but I'm very excited to see it.

Timothy Findley wrote the play and I loved The Wars, so this must be good!

If you have a spare night and want to see some good theatre in a relatively comfy seat, then go see Elizabeth Rex!

Springtime in Paris?

This time last year, we just arrived home from our honeymoon here:

This year, we were here:

I wasn't disappointed that we were in Victoria, but I was certainly missing that je ne sais quoi only Paris can offer.

However, I was surprised on Saturday afternoon with this snack:

My favourite wine, baquettes from Fol Epi and, my absolute favourite - macarons.

Needless to say I was touched, salivating, and in heaven.

It's not Paris, but without an extra $5,000, it's the next best thing!

Bisous!