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All growing up my mother had forced me to write thank you cards for gifts or money, that I had received from family and friends. I never really understood why the crap I had to write them, and in fact, once I got a thank you card for my thank you card that I had sent. It was mind blowing, and I got scared that I would have to send one back and the cycle would continue until that person had died, which frankly seemed like they never would and therefore I would be stuck writing thank you note for thank you note until the last hours of my life.

I haven’t lived in my hometown of Sherwood Park in over 10 years, and its been that long since I ‘ve communicated with most high school friends. Until Facebook that is. Facebook, as we all know has revolutionized the way we keep in touch with each other,and re-unite with people. Over the last 6 months or so, I have reconnected with countless people from my high school and former life in Edmonton, its been great all around so hats off to facebook.

About a month ago, after scouring the friends lists of my new-old high school pals, I came across a buddy that I hadn’t connected with, and thanks to facebook I noticed it was his birthday. A while earlier I had loaded $10 of facebook gifts onto my credit card so I could send people little virtual treasures. I decided it would be so sweet of me to send this person a facebook cake.

With the a little flick here, some clicking there whala! I had sent this old pal a facebook birthday cake complete with a cute note and a smiley face :).

To be honest I expected he would mention it. Say something. Anything really. It’s not like we were enemies 10 years ago or something, we were actually friends. After no word from him I eventually forgot about it until the other day.

Out of the blue a few days ago I suddenly remembered the cake I had sent. I instantly got a little miffed as I thought, well sheesh I sent him a $1 virtual cake and not even a thank you note, or mention that he got it. And as soon as the thought crossed my mind I think I laughed out loud by myself!

So the question remains, what warrants a thank you card? or a thank you note these days, as I assume most people also send text through the internet rather than writing a card. Either way.. card, note whatever…. I felt like I had gone out of my way to send him a cake. Perhaps it would have been a better gesture to actually make him a cake, but lets get serious who has time for that.

So I am left, chuckling to myself over a cake that doesn’t exist and a card that will never come. I’m starting to think I should find a hobby…..

I took the rings once belonging to my dead father out of the wooden box where they had been stored for two years and started to feel something again. I held them in my hands, wanting to forever etch them into my being as though somehow that grand gesture would preserve something I had lost.

As the wine passed my lips I wondered what he would say. What he would think. How he was…. the rings grew warm in my clenched fist and I felt calm as I stood up.

The fact that the chain was bronze and the rings gold stayed in my mind as I slipped them over the clasp and down the length. “it doesn’t match” rang in my head and I scolded myself for being so ridiculous, this was not the time for such trivial things.

With rings clinking together now adorned around my neck, I sat on the edge of my futon bed and kept the internal dialogue a flow. Thoughts of his face, his voice, and his life brought tears to my eyes and strength to my heart.

I put the warm metal to my mouth and kissed them softly recalling moments where my dad and I really saw each other.

Those moments where two souls connect for seconds that feel like an eternity, the chaotic calmness of slow moving time, moments that don’t need words, moments where hearts are sharing.

I kissed the rings again, got up and looked in the mirror. I gazed at the woman in the glass and spoke out loud “look at me” and I did.

With tears rolling down my cheeks, standing in front of myself I knew for the first time in a long time that I was ok.

… an excerpt from the journal of kim cathers …

I often think I should blog, but I always get stuck on what to say. I mean, does a post have to have a big point all a the time, or can I just rant about whatever…I suppose I get hung up on needing to have a conclusion or a thought that is worth sharing rather than just my opinion. I feel sometimes that I do my best writing when I am most upset, mad sad, hurt, depressed, angry, inspired whatever. So I hesitate to let out the blogger in me in fear of sounding terribly down and angry. But perhaps its this fear that should be let go so I can release the beast.

Conclusion : undecided.

New years has come and gone, much like every year before and every year to come. Resolutions, hangovers, family, friends, disappointment of the end of christmas and it will all happen again next year around this same time.

After years of worrying about what to do, where to go, who to spend it with and striving to be somewhere significant and with the right person at the stroke of midnight has definitely taken its toll on my new years eve need to party. This year a couple friends and I decided to shake up the norm, and see what we could make of the “best night of the year” *insert rolling eyes here* We worked at party at Science world, checking coats and wrangling the drunken crowd trying to check coats, pick up coats and find their long lost ticket stubs. We danced, and sang and laughed, toasted champagne at midnight, and then kept working until 3:30 am or so. Being completely sober and watching all the crying, puking drunkards outside made me glad that I wasn’t gonna have a killer hangover the next morning. (and trust me I’ve been known to have my fair share of killer hangovers)

On my way to pick up my friend to go to Science world, I realized with a fright that I had forgotten my camera at home and felt a sudden wave of disappointment. Oh no, with no pictures how would this night be captured, or shared, or able to be revisited in the future?? An important night with no proof!? no smiling selfies to capture? no one to see how cute we all were in our complimentary black ensembles??

Instead of turning around to go home, or relieving myself that at least my phone had a camera, I was drawn back to something my good friend josli wrote last christmas, which I had just re-read a few days ago.

“… Photos have a way of skimming off the top layer of the moment and storing it forever. You forget what was going on behind the scenes and only see the faces smiling at the camera, creating a new memory and discarding the truth. Digital cameras make it even worse. People get snap-happy and take pictures of everything, deleting the “bad” ones with the click of a button, so now all the memories are nicely cut, manicured, and stored exactly as we’d like to remember our (im)perfect lives. You can see your life the way you want to be seen, and then show it to everyone else after it’s been perfected…”

(see the full excellent piece here )

I thought, does this night only exist because of photos, well no of course not, so why the need for documentation, evidence, and proof? I felt in that moment to continue on with our night and just enjoy it, not needing to look for the camera when something awsome happens, but instead to just enjoy the awsomenss and know that no matter what, the memory is always there.

After we finished working the party we got dressed up in tiara’s and gold top hats and drove the streets of Vancouver as a gypsy cab; looking for people who for the life of them could not find a real cab, and give them a lift home for about $20. We had a new fare every 5 minuets and drove until 7am! It was by far one of the best new years I’ve ever had…I got to spend 12 hours with my buddy jrock, make money, laugh, meet new people, and help out some seriously desperate folks wandering around downtown with no way to get home.

We have not a shred of photographic evidence, but let me tell you it was excellent, and even though you can’t see our selfies in the car, or our smiling faces at coat check, or our cute outfits and model faces, it was the best way to ring in the new year and almost more special that only those lucky enough to be there know what I’m talking about.

Don’t get me wrong, I love photos, and I love taking them even more and will continue to in the future, but this little experiment helped to put it all into perspective. In josli’s post she talks about editing your photos and essentially editing your life/memories to only capture the “best” ones. I guess I just like the organic-ness of storing your memories and good times in your heart and mind instead of a 2G card and then on the internet.

But maybe its just me.

Happy new year to you and those you love.

Last night the finale of Project Runway aired, and I watched in awe and glee as my friend Evan Biddell won first place. I hate to say I told you so, but really… I told you so. I said from day one that he would win, I just knew because I have worked with him, been his friend, and know that he is a crazy ass dude. Bids is one of the most amazing designers I have ever met, I think in part it is his organic style of construction and part his ability to literally whip things out of thin air. Evan and I shared my studio for a couple months last summer and I have to say that being in the same room sewing and designing with him was the most excellent time, we danced, and sang and sewed, and made beautiful things. I t was glorious.

So congratulations to Bid’s, take the world by storm baby, and don’t forget to write!

Much love from all those who know you.