per capita... we are the most awesome G+ community out there!
Google+ saw 67m visits in November, with 2.7m from UK, says ComScore | Technology | guardian.co.uk:
'via Blog this'
Friday, March 30, 2012
Canada tops G+ audience per capita!
per capita... we are the most awesome G+ community out there!
Google+ saw 67m visits in November, with 2.7m from UK, says ComScore | Technology | guardian.co.uk:
'via Blog this'
Wednesday, March 28, 2012
Busy piping season thus far...
Unbelievably, this March has been a pretty active season for the piping realm:
- I had the online competition to record and submit (got 6th place for the MSR)
- TCTE Curling Bonspiel opening / closing
- Meeting with the dance groups to discuss piping for the May competition (which I'm deciding NOT to do)
- Al's funeral (hardest piping gig I've ever had to do)
- National Wheelchair Curling bonspiel opening / closing
- Several band executive / general / centennial meetings
- Bronwyn's birthday bash (a dancer who has found out she has cancer, and he fellow classmates were throwing a fundraising party)
[he did NOT like my F's or my fosgailte movement -- I've forgotten the D grace to C; was quite happy as it was the first real 'full length' piobaireachd I've done]
got 6th place for it
April shouldn't be too bad, only a few meetings... just heavy practicing.
May? I would really like to try to do the Moosejaw/Regina competition... we'll see.
Sunday, March 18, 2012
Alister Richmond Macdonald, R.I.P. (Dec 22 1932 - Mar 13 2012)
This week has been an extra dose of shitty for me. Besides Dean's weird illness/situation, I lost a dear and close friend. Alister wasn't a super healthy guy these past few weeks, so it wasn't a shock, however, to lose someone of that stature in my life.
He was my idol and mentor.
A true figure of what I hoped to aspire to.
This is going to undo an entire week of grieving for me by writing this, but here's hoping it's therapeutic.
On Tuesday at work, during the staff meeting I heard my phone ring. I had my tablet with me so I sent a chat to Mandy asking if it was her, she said it was and it was nothing important. When I got back to my office I saw the waiting voicemail on my cell and ignored it, believing it to be my wife.
I then noticed the voicemail on my work line and I check it and it's Mandy. A coworker starts up a conversation asking about my son and I express my concerns, etc... and then I pick up my cellphone to see who the voicemail could be.
It's from Alister Macdonald the caller ID says... I had just talked to him Saturday night, before we took Dean to the hospital Sunday, where we saw Peter and Carol. Hopefully he had the surgery then and was home... but already? As that thought registers is when the other end of the phone and it's Peter saying that they lost Al late last night.
It is like a literal blow to my body as I drop my phone and immediately start being overcome with anxiety/despair/depression... something. The coworker comes back in and starts to talk and then realizes that I am not alright. She tries to console me, and asks what's the matter and I can't even speak. I can't get the words out ... she leaves my office, closing my door and I just weep.
I call Mandy and let her know, and she asks if I'm coming home ... I wanted to. But I can just picture him and his work ethic and thinking that would be right silly of me.
Less than 3 hours later I cave and head home. Worse, I have a performance to play for and picking up the pipes is harder than ever. They feel heavy.
My week is not going well, and I have difficulty concentrating at work and being as good a father/husband as I should be. I try to not let it affect me, but it's hard. Every little thing I see or hear reminds me in some way of him, and the realization that I can't just call him up to stop by for a visit hits home. I'll never get to perform for his 'adjudication preparedness' lessons in the basement ever again.
Thursday was surprisingly not as rough as I would have thought. Everyone just continues on and practices, just as Al would have had us do. We go through the routine for the Saturday funeral, and the real-ness of it all hits me, and I wonder if I'll do him right by being able to perform to standard, or will grief rock me once again during that rite?
Friday I miss most of the day due to Dean's appointment and get into work for the afternoon. I soon get a call from Peter saying that they had interred Al's ashes that day and are at the house tipping a drambuie and reminiscing, asking if I would like to join. I know I have been in the office not even an hour, but I gladly accept. It was good to see Muriel finally (I had only talked to Pete on occasion up until now). The talk is light and a few jokes are made, but otherwise it was as though Al was just in the other room, and not really gone. I'm unable to tell whether that is good for me, or not, but for the family I handle it.
Saturday... I have been dreading this. Unbelievably so. I can't say good bye. Even though he is already 'put away', this is where we say our goodbyes and deliver our respect. So final, so impossible to fathom.
My role in this will be to lead the band (albeit from behind) as we will march to the front of the church and be visible. Rory plays Dark Island, and just hearing it was rough. I know it was hard for him as well. As he sits down I go to shake his hand and he refuses. I don't know why, but I'm not offended.
The eulogy was perfect... delivered by Don and Greg which is full of laughs and stories. When Greg looks back and makes the comment that "as he looks to his son (Rory) and his piping friends he knows that a piece of Al will continue on." That, albeit poetic, just hurts. He's really gone.
Eric gives a great poem, and he nearly doesn't make it through... I really would like to find it for you... it was beautiful. About a piper who loves to play, and eventually closes the box, but passes them on to younger blood etc... just ... I'm not doing it justice. It's amazing.
Then it's Peter's turn, and you can tell he's nervous. Not just because he despises public speaking, but you can tell that this has affected him greatly.
He recalls 3 lessons from his dad: Don't play poker (if you want to keep your money); If you can't have a laugh, you're doing something wrong; and to always give credit where credit is due and give thanks... at whic point he thanks everyone for coming, and the individuals involved and then breaks up as he thanks Al for being a great dad. Absolutely touching.
The hardest part is now at hand, as Rory and I go to the front and play for the band to form an honour guard for the family. Sadly we play "Big Don Macdonald", which was written by Al. We play out the church and continue on with Frank Thompason and Glasgow Week as our band members file out for the honour guard on either side. Now we play as the family walks past and we have a tough time keeping time or remembering parts, but it wasn't too noticeable.
The odd person here and there in the crowd sparks a memory of Al, or remembering what we heard inside causes another wracking of grief to hit me and we almost stumble. In fact there is one part that we both screw up so badly that Rory stops and I just fumble to a point and play. Again, hopefully nobody noticed. But we know Al did... I think he'd understand.
Now he's at rest. My mom said to me before I went to the funeral that what we were doing was giving him our last gift, and we do it proudly ... and I don't know if that helped. That whole finality of it. But it's done, and I'm trying to put the whole thing behind me; the grief that is. I need to come to terms with it, and know that he wouldn't want me blubbering about it after it's over.
Thanks to all of you who have helped support me and tolerated my behaviour over the past week. I can imagine to those of you who stumble onto this site at some point ... don't know who you would be, because I don't think anybody reads this... please excuse the rambling-ness of it all. We all know I'm not a writer; but this has helped somewhat to overcome my own depression of Al's passing, and in that vein I just wrote without real thought or laid out plan. Hopefully it's not too unreadable.
My final thoughts... in life, we get the great opportunity to love many people, and hopefully be loved back. Often these connections are bred in the bone and we have no choice on who that connection is with. Your parents, siblings, other relatives. You have to love them. That's not an option (often). By simple chance you are bound to that person and as such love them. Then there are the people like Al. Who I wonder if I'll ever get the chance to meet another like him. Influential in every sense. I loved him as I would a father, and more; because he truly earned it. May whatever I gleaned from him in that time stay with me, and grow and hopefully have the same ability to pass on to others as he did to me... and not just in terms of piping, but of dignity, and respect; responsibility and loyalty. We are truly lessened with the loss of him.
Obituary from the Chronicle Journal: March 16, 2012
http://www.chroniclejournal.com/obituaries/macdonald/alister
Alister Richmond Macdonald, R.I.P. (Dec 22 1932 - Mar 13 2012)
He was my idol and mentor.
A true figure of what I hoped to aspire to.
This is going to undo an entire week of grieving for me by writing this, but here's hoping it's therapeutic.
On Tuesday at work, during the staff meeting I heard my phone ring. I had my tablet with me so I sent a chat to Mandy asking if it was her, she said it was and it was nothing important. When I got back to my office I saw the waiting voicemail on my cell and ignored it, believing it to be my wife.
I then noticed the voicemail on my work line and I check it and it's Mandy. A coworker starts up a conversation asking about my son and I express my concerns, etc... and then I pick up my cellphone to see who the voicemail could be.
It's from Alister Macdonald the caller ID says... I had just talked to him Saturday night, before we took Dean to the hospital Sunday, where we saw Peter and Carol. Hopefully he had the surgery then and was home... but already? As that thought registers is when the other end of the phone and it's Peter saying that they lost Al late last night.
It is like a literal blow to my body as I drop my phone and immediately start being overcome with anxiety/despair/depression... something. The coworker comes back in and starts to talk and then realizes that I am not alright. She tries to console me, and asks what's the matter and I can't even speak. I can't get the words out ... she leaves my office, closing my door and I just weep.
I call Mandy and let her know, and she asks if I'm coming home ... I wanted to. But I can just picture him and his work ethic and thinking that would be right silly of me.
Less than 3 hours later I cave and head home. Worse, I have a performance to play for and picking up the pipes is harder than ever. They feel heavy.
My week is not going well, and I have difficulty concentrating at work and being as good a father/husband as I should be. I try to not let it affect me, but it's hard. Every little thing I see or hear reminds me in some way of him, and the realization that I can't just call him up to stop by for a visit hits home. I'll never get to perform for his 'adjudication preparedness' lessons in the basement ever again.
Thursday was surprisingly not as rough as I would have thought. Everyone just continues on and practices, just as Al would have had us do. We go through the routine for the Saturday funeral, and the real-ness of it all hits me, and I wonder if I'll do him right by being able to perform to standard, or will grief rock me once again during that rite?
Friday I miss most of the day due to Dean's appointment and get into work for the afternoon. I soon get a call from Peter saying that they had interred Al's ashes that day and are at the house tipping a drambuie and reminiscing, asking if I would like to join. I know I have been in the office not even an hour, but I gladly accept. It was good to see Muriel finally (I had only talked to Pete on occasion up until now). The talk is light and a few jokes are made, but otherwise it was as though Al was just in the other room, and not really gone. I'm unable to tell whether that is good for me, or not, but for the family I handle it.
Saturday... I have been dreading this. Unbelievably so. I can't say good bye. Even though he is already 'put away', this is where we say our goodbyes and deliver our respect. So final, so impossible to fathom.
My role in this will be to lead the band (albeit from behind) as we will march to the front of the church and be visible. Rory plays Dark Island, and just hearing it was rough. I know it was hard for him as well. As he sits down I go to shake his hand and he refuses. I don't know why, but I'm not offended.
The eulogy was perfect... delivered by Don and Greg which is full of laughs and stories. When Greg looks back and makes the comment that "as he looks to his son (Rory) and his piping friends he knows that a piece of Al will continue on." That, albeit poetic, just hurts. He's really gone.
Eric gives a great poem, and he nearly doesn't make it through... I really would like to find it for you... it was beautiful. About a piper who loves to play, and eventually closes the box, but passes them on to younger blood etc... just ... I'm not doing it justice. It's amazing.
Then it's Peter's turn, and you can tell he's nervous. Not just because he despises public speaking, but you can tell that this has affected him greatly.
He recalls 3 lessons from his dad: Don't play poker (if you want to keep your money); If you can't have a laugh, you're doing something wrong; and to always give credit where credit is due and give thanks... at whic point he thanks everyone for coming, and the individuals involved and then breaks up as he thanks Al for being a great dad. Absolutely touching.
The hardest part is now at hand, as Rory and I go to the front and play for the band to form an honour guard for the family. Sadly we play "Big Don Macdonald", which was written by Al. We play out the church and continue on with Frank Thompason and Glasgow Week as our band members file out for the honour guard on either side. Now we play as the family walks past and we have a tough time keeping time or remembering parts, but it wasn't too noticeable.
The odd person here and there in the crowd sparks a memory of Al, or remembering what we heard inside causes another wracking of grief to hit me and we almost stumble. In fact there is one part that we both screw up so badly that Rory stops and I just fumble to a point and play. Again, hopefully nobody noticed. But we know Al did... I think he'd understand.
Now he's at rest. My mom said to me before I went to the funeral that what we were doing was giving him our last gift, and we do it proudly ... and I don't know if that helped. That whole finality of it. But it's done, and I'm trying to put the whole thing behind me; the grief that is. I need to come to terms with it, and know that he wouldn't want me blubbering about it after it's over.
Thanks to all of you who have helped support me and tolerated my behaviour over the past week. I can imagine to those of you who stumble onto this site at some point ... don't know who you would be, because I don't think anybody reads this... please excuse the rambling-ness of it all. We all know I'm not a writer; but this has helped somewhat to overcome my own depression of Al's passing, and in that vein I just wrote without real thought or laid out plan. Hopefully it's not too unreadable.
My final thoughts... in life, we get the great opportunity to love many people, and hopefully be loved back. Often these connections are bred in the bone and we have no choice on who that connection is with. Your parents, siblings, other relatives. You have to love them. That's not an option (often). By simple chance you are bound to that person and as such love them. Then there are the people like Al. Who I wonder if I'll ever get the chance to meet another like him. Influential in every sense. I loved him as I would a father, and more; because he truly earned it. May whatever I gleaned from him in that time stay with me, and grow and hopefully have the same ability to pass on to others as he did to me... and not just in terms of piping, but of dignity, and respect; responsibility and loyalty. We are truly lessened with the loss of him.
Obituary from the Chronicle Journal: March 16, 2012
http://www.chroniclejournal.com/obituaries/macdonald/alister
Alister Richmond Macdonald, R.I.P. (Dec 22 1932 - Mar 13 2012)
Dean and the mysterious ... illness?
I apologize first off, I know I don't often post on here about my family as it's become a repository for articles from AiC...
Anyhow... Dean. As you may recall he was pretty ill a while back with an ear infection.
Well it goes from a bad to weird, to potentially worse to a dafuq?
After Dean had finished off his bout of Amoxicillin he starts to get itchy, and then a rash and it just looked ugly. We take him to the walk-in clinic again. The doctor believes that he's had a reaction to the penicillin and we can now say he's allergic (tho' not anaphylactic). Dose him with Benadryl and Aerius and he should be right as rain. She asks also about if he can walk fine and stuff, which we say he can, and think nothing more of that odd question.
So, yay, more medicine. We just got over giving him medicine, now he needs more. Not fun. He's not buying the 'this is special chocolate milk' anymore either.
Fast forward 2 days and the hives are gone and we stop the medicine. Then it's on to skating lessons. I notice he's a little slow going to the lesson... like isn't running or jumping up the stairs. Then when I put his skate on one of his feet he absolutely just CRIES. Man that hurt watching him in pain.
So we go home and he limps around. Absolutely weird. Next day he's still limping, but this time it's on the other leg. That's a head scratcher. And he can't walk, he needs to be carried room to room. That night he wakes up in just pain and agony and you can hardly move him without him screaming. Growing pains maybe?
The next day he's fine. We play most of the day and I give him a hug and he winces, that's when I realize he's not used that left arm all day; he won't pick things up, hold or anything with it. That's it, back to the hospital. (We get to see Peter and Carol as they go up to visit Al, although I can't get in to visit him I tell them to send my regards)
Dean does not enjoy this visit either. Especially as he needs to have blood taken and although he sits very still for it, he is screaming and that look of pure agony will never leave my nightmares. He demands that the bad ladies are taken to jail for hurting him.
The doctor eventually sees him and he believes it may be a sprain or juvenile rheumatoid arthritis... or maybe a bad reaction to the medicine/ear infection. Who knows. Xrays will help eliminate a fracture/sprain.
The xray goes only slightly better with Dean than the bloodwork. Oh, and we had to do it 2x. By the second time, Dean's left arm is moving just fine (but now he's really guarding that right arm - and sure enough it now hurts to use).
The doctor says we can't know for sure, but give him some ibuprofen and we'll get back to you.
EVENTUALLY we get our appointment with paediatrics at the hospital (Mandy's doctor, who's Dean's doctor is out of the office as his wife had just passed away -- and we had found out at this time that Al had passed) and the doctor there says that it's a negative for the arthritis as far as their concerned and it was just a passing reaction to the infection most likely. Sigh of relief, as at this point Dean is right as rain. "We'll never know" says one of the doctors.
We leave the hospital this time telling Dean he won't have to go back (he was tricked the last time).
Another few days pass to yesterday. After Al's funeral we pick up Dean and we notice he's limping again. Today I notice that he's no longer limping and does fine at swimming, but later on his arm is bothering him again.
I am absolutely perplexed... and scared. The only literal strings I'm grasping at is the fact that Mandy believes it might be the 'odd vitamins' she didn't think we bought, but found one day in the cupboard. They're not expired... but who knows?
Here's hoping that tomorrow he'll be just fine again. *fingers crossed*
Anyhow... Dean. As you may recall he was pretty ill a while back with an ear infection.
Well it goes from a bad to weird, to potentially worse to a dafuq?
After Dean had finished off his bout of Amoxicillin he starts to get itchy, and then a rash and it just looked ugly. We take him to the walk-in clinic again. The doctor believes that he's had a reaction to the penicillin and we can now say he's allergic (tho' not anaphylactic). Dose him with Benadryl and Aerius and he should be right as rain. She asks also about if he can walk fine and stuff, which we say he can, and think nothing more of that odd question.
So, yay, more medicine. We just got over giving him medicine, now he needs more. Not fun. He's not buying the 'this is special chocolate milk' anymore either.
Fast forward 2 days and the hives are gone and we stop the medicine. Then it's on to skating lessons. I notice he's a little slow going to the lesson... like isn't running or jumping up the stairs. Then when I put his skate on one of his feet he absolutely just CRIES. Man that hurt watching him in pain.
So we go home and he limps around. Absolutely weird. Next day he's still limping, but this time it's on the other leg. That's a head scratcher. And he can't walk, he needs to be carried room to room. That night he wakes up in just pain and agony and you can hardly move him without him screaming. Growing pains maybe?
The next day he's fine. We play most of the day and I give him a hug and he winces, that's when I realize he's not used that left arm all day; he won't pick things up, hold or anything with it. That's it, back to the hospital. (We get to see Peter and Carol as they go up to visit Al, although I can't get in to visit him I tell them to send my regards)
Dean does not enjoy this visit either. Especially as he needs to have blood taken and although he sits very still for it, he is screaming and that look of pure agony will never leave my nightmares. He demands that the bad ladies are taken to jail for hurting him.
The doctor eventually sees him and he believes it may be a sprain or juvenile rheumatoid arthritis... or maybe a bad reaction to the medicine/ear infection. Who knows. Xrays will help eliminate a fracture/sprain.
The xray goes only slightly better with Dean than the bloodwork. Oh, and we had to do it 2x. By the second time, Dean's left arm is moving just fine (but now he's really guarding that right arm - and sure enough it now hurts to use).
The doctor says we can't know for sure, but give him some ibuprofen and we'll get back to you.
EVENTUALLY we get our appointment with paediatrics at the hospital (Mandy's doctor, who's Dean's doctor is out of the office as his wife had just passed away -- and we had found out at this time that Al had passed) and the doctor there says that it's a negative for the arthritis as far as their concerned and it was just a passing reaction to the infection most likely. Sigh of relief, as at this point Dean is right as rain. "We'll never know" says one of the doctors.
We leave the hospital this time telling Dean he won't have to go back (he was tricked the last time).
Another few days pass to yesterday. After Al's funeral we pick up Dean and we notice he's limping again. Today I notice that he's no longer limping and does fine at swimming, but later on his arm is bothering him again.
I am absolutely perplexed... and scared. The only literal strings I'm grasping at is the fact that Mandy believes it might be the 'odd vitamins' she didn't think we bought, but found one day in the cupboard. They're not expired... but who knows?
Here's hoping that tomorrow he'll be just fine again. *fingers crossed*
Tuesday, March 6, 2012
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