For the last time. . .

For the last time, I got to the end of the agenda, past approving the minutes from last meeting and the reports, and dispensed with new business, tabled some ongoing old stuff, and for the last time, I looked up at a meeting for the little paper that could and I said:

"I'll entertain a motion for adjournment".

And someone motioned, and there was no seconder, because my board knows that you don't need a seconder for an adjournment motion, but you do need a 75% majority, and I called the question, and I put my binder back in my bag, and gathered my belongings, and I walked out of the room.

I am, on paper, by the bylaws, according to the Societies Act, the chairwoman of the little paper that could, for another 10 days. 10 days measured against 5 years doesn't seem to much.

And I could talk about the stuff we've done, almost doubling our distribution, colour art work. Distribution through Canada Post, not volunteers. Regular columns. Letters to the editor. We are the only community newspaper in the city. And we are a real newspaper - we have journalists and copy editors and we talk in column inches. A group of mostly women, we started out 5 years ago, and I tell you, what did we know from column inches and ad rates?

But we did it. We payed for issues, even when we robbed Peter to pay Paul, and I showed up to a meeting or two with my cheque book, just in case. The little paper that could. We learned what a rim pig was, and when we hired a journalism student, we didn't let on that she knew a hell of a lot more about journalism than we did! Someone threatened to sue us, and I sat in a lawyer's office and learned about slander and libel. I can tell you what constitutes fact checking.

We did other things, we made friendships. I planned a board meeting from my hospital bed, and after Gabe's death, our managing editor gently put the interview questions in front of me, even bringing me a pen. Propping me up, so that I could interview the new ad rep. These women brought me food when my mother had her stroke, and I have bought wedding presents, house warming gifts, knitted baby hats. We've gone out for dinner, for drinks, helped each other weed. I have held hands, we have drank coffee and schemed.

And I have learned. I have learned to be more quiet, to look at faces, teasing out board members who are more silent. I've learned when to speak up, to make a decision, to move on. I have learned that you can have a board meeting that runs with Robert's Rules of Order, or runs around a kitchen table, and both of them get stuff done, but people are just people, and most of us know from kitchen tables.

I have learned to hire and fire, to exercise patience, to get to the bottom of the problem, and to listen for the problem that is not spoken. I learned crises management the hard way. I've learned to lead on the fly, while running and reading the map. I've learned to be decisive, even when your mind is only 45% made up, and when to say "I don't know. Let's ask an expert." I've learned that everyone makes the wrong decision sometimes. I have learned 3 different communication styles, 4 different forms of conflict resolution, and 5 different ways to split the difference. I still only know one way to announce that we have gotten off topic.

Last meeting tonight. I'm not sure I've learned enough. But the little paper that could? It still can.

All in favour? Motion Carried.

We are all our Mother's Daughter's

I should know better than to go grocery shopping at 9 pm at night, when I have not eaten since lunch. (Not my fault, Board Meeting and then errands for trip).

I buy stupid stuff. Over priced and just bad meatloaf, that may not stay in my tummy much longer. Expensive cookies that I love, but need like a hole in my head. Banana flavoured milk. Ornamental corn.

But not, I maintain, the 2 boxes of lucky charms (hey, they were on 2 for $7. I had to buy 2). That purchase did not represent hunger based food stupidity, it represented independence.

Years ago, the rule in my house was that if sugar was in the first 3 ingredients, I wasn't allowed the cereal. And yes, my mother knows all the names for sugar. Dextrose, sucrose, maltose, high fructose corn syrup, she knows them all.

There are not many cereals that leaves one. Indeed, you can't even have mini-wheats. As I recall, there was shredded wheat, all bran, puffed wheat, rice krispies and shreddies. That was it. Not a lot of fruit for the tummy there, mostly just dry, boring cereal.

And still, 25 years later, I am remarkably boring in my cereal choices. Mr. Spit gets all sorts of things. I get unfrosted shredded wheat. Sometimes, sometimes I get radical and I have shreddies. To this day, I like Sunny Boy hot cereal. I remain remarkably true to my upbringing.

I was 18 when I had corn puffs for the first time. 21 the first time I had lucky charms.

Tonight, tired and worn, running through the store trying to find something to eat, I saw the lucky charms. My vacation is starting a day early. I'm having lucky charms for breakfast today!

'Nuff Said. . .

Also

Going to spend Gabe's second birthday in Vegas.

It's exciting to go to Vegas. It's strange to know that were he here, we wouldn't be going to Vegas.

Anyway.

We'll go and buy toys for charity before we leave. And figure out how to do a birthday cake there.

So, I'm excited about Vegas. I really am. I've never been, and wanted to go for years.

But, strange.

If You're Going to San Francisco . . .

Be sure to wear some flowers in your hair!

I'm going.

Sept 24th to Sept 29th.

Incredible seat sale.

The knitting philosophers on tour!

Monday Miscellany

As variously promised, the Adirondack chairs are assembled, varnished and ready for seating.

Which is good. Because my street, last night has a large pile of dirt on it. Today, they are ripping up the street. (You would have thought we would have gotten a sidewalk first, but apparently the City of Edmonton exercises the 'make everything look really, really bad, before you make it look better' school of project management.)

Also, Canada Post has suspended our mail delivery, as Mr. Spit and I have neglected to provide their letter carriers a safe working environment.

So, no street, no sidewalk. no (mail) service.

A Mari Usque Ad Mare (except for the bits with no sidewalks)

Dear Neighbour Child on the Next Block

I think it's great that you skateboard. No, really, I'm not just saying that to be hip, I actually think it's great.

It teaches perseverance and dedication and possibly (although, not in your case) co-ordination. In addition to this, you aren't selling drugs on our street corner, or getting drunk and having fights on our sidewalk (Big plus in our neck of the woods)

It's just. . . . .

Well, I've been watching you skateboard for 3 years. And, I just have to say -

You aren't getting any better at it. At all.

In fact, you are still trying that same trick as from 3 years ago, where you jump up, and have your board spin around, and then you fall off and almost break your neck you land back on it. At least, I think that's what you are trying to do. Your friends do it, and I can only assume that they keep coming over to show you. again.

Likely, Possibly you are even worse.

And I like you, and I think you are a wonderful young man (except for the spitting, knock that off already)

I'm wondering, how about another hobby? I hear women like men who cook?