Our Own Little Darwin Award Nominee

Yesterday morning when we awoke, the light on our phone was flashing, indicating that there was a message waiting on our answering service. It is our custom to look at the call display before checking the messages; it's like a sneak peek to see who may be thinking about us. More often than not, call display shows Unknown Name Unknown Number, in which case we may not check the message for a few hours. After all, everyone we know has a name.

Yesterday's call display showed the caller's very Distinctive First and Last Names and telephone number. Funny thing, the caller left a message around 2:30 in the morning, yet none of us had heard the phone ring.

Finally, just before 4 p.m., we checked the messages. We were all a little shocked to hear a threatening voice warning us: "Your time has come to an end. I will be taking your life tomorrow at 6 p.m. (Evil laugh.) Goodbye."

Usually, you'd feel threatened hearing a message like that, but one could just make out the sounds of a young teen laughing in the background. It sounded like a prank call. I mean, who says "You'll by dead by 6 PEE-EM tomorrow." If I call you about a date, I may say something like "I'll see you at 2 o'clock tomorrow." I frequently use "p.m." when writing, but I can't even imagine using it in conversation. I thought it was polite of him to say the formal "Goodbye" instead of just hanging up, like I guess I'd expect serial killers would.

We didn't take it too seriously as an actual threat to our safety, but we did want to report it to the police. While waiting for the police to come, I thought I'd do a reverse look-up on the number. It turns out the number is a local cell phone.

I then used Canada411 and found four local families with the same Distinctive Surname. I used Mapquest to identify one of the streets as being in our neighbourhood.

In a moment of inspiration, I decided to look up the name on Facebook. Bingo! There he was. Mr. Distinctive First Name and Last Name, a student at a local high school.

Busted!

The police officer was incredibly impressed with what he called "my investigation." I told him that I am the Empress of all Google searches. He complained that the police don't have access to Facebook as part of their investigative resources. Facebook is blocked on police computers.

Now you could hardly call this an "investigation." In total, the entire process took less than ten minutes.

The police will be making a visit to the young man's school and then speaking with his parents. Kids need to know that there are consequences to their seemingly 'fun' and 'innocent' pranks.

We're all safe, we think. As for me, I've offered to do online research for the regional police on a pay-per-search basis. After all, my first "investigation" appears to be successful.


Twenty minutes after writing this, we heard back from the police officer. It seems Mr. Distinctive First and Last Name was known to police. The officer had already been to his home and spoken to the kid and his parents. The cop seems to have warned him that he's lucky we're such good people and don't want to press charges, otherwise, he'd be spending the night in jail waiting to see a justice of the peace tomorrow morning. From what the officer told me, I'm pretty sure we won't be hearing from the kid again.

Me and Marcia Brady

I was surprised today to learn that I am THIS MUCH younger than Maureen McCormick (51), the actress who played Marcia Brady in the timeless TV show, The Brady Bunch.

I've taken to doing that a lot lately..... comparing my age to the ages of Hollywood celebrities. For example, reading my daughter's hand-me-down edition of People magazine today, I learned that I am younger than Valerie Bertinelli (47), Michelle Pfeiffer (49), and supermodel Iman (52!). That got me wondering about my age relative to other celebs.

You can find ANYTHING on the internet in 30 seconds or less!

My birthday is 10 / 15 / 1960
which means I am 46 years old and about:
34 years 4 months younger than Andy Griffith, age 81
30 years 11 months younger than Dick Clark, age 77
29 years 7 months younger than Leonard Nimoy, age 76
27 years 6 months younger than Carol Burnett, age 74
24 years 9 months younger than Alan Alda, age 71
23 years 3 months younger than Bill Cosby, age 70
17 years 11 months younger than Linda Evans, age 64
15 years 9 months younger than Tom Selleck, age 62
12 years 10 months younger than Ted Danson, age 59
10 years 6 months younger than Jay Leno, age 57
6 years 9 months younger than Oprah Winfrey, age 53
5 years 8 months younger than Kelsey Grammer, age 52
2 years 5 months younger than Drew Carey, age 49
0 years 8 months older than Michael J. Fox, age 46
4 years 1 month older than Calista Flockhart, age 42
8 years 4 months older than Jennifer Aniston, age 38
12 years 2 months older than Alyssa Milano, age 34
17 years 1 month older than Colin Hanks, age 29
22 years 10 months older than Mila Kunis, age 24
30 years 8 months older than Madylin Sweeten, age 16

and that I was:
1 years old at the time Beverly Hillbillies first aired
3 years old when the Addams Family first appeared on TV
5 years old at the time the first Star Trek episode was televised
10 years old when All in the Family was first shown
11 years old at the time the TV series M*A*S*H began
14 years old when Saturday Night Live first aired
17 years old when CBS introduced Dallas
20 years old during the first airing of Hill Street Blues
21 years old at the time the first Cheers episode was televised
25 years old when L.A. Law was first aired on TV
26 years old at the time the series Married with Children began
29 years old when Seinfeld was first televised
30 years old in the month Home Improvement began
33 years old at the time the TV series Friends began
35 years old when Everybody Loves Raymond first aired
38 years old when Who Wants To Be A Millionaire began in the US

Click here to see the TV Age Gauge and find out how old (or how young!) you are relative to the stars, too.

$1 Million for Cricket, $0 for Christine Lee

The news today has been dominated by the scandal in the Ontario Ministry of Citizenship and Immigration. Minister Mike Colle doled out $32 million in grants to cultural groups including $1 million to the Ontario Cricket Association (what cricket has to do with citizenship or immigration is the next question*). The thing is, the Ontario Cricket Association had requested a grant of only $150,000. An auditor's report revealed that the Cricket people spent $360,000 of their grant and parked $500,000 in a term deposit. That's how we get our taxpayer dollars working for us.

In the meantime, my sister, Christine, had to find $50,000 in private funding in order to visit the Cleveland Clinic to have a gastrointestinal pacemaker implanted to try to restore her health to the level it was when she had her first (government funded) pacemaker. Christine's story was the subject of a Toronto Star article in October, 2006. Click here to read about her plight. The Ontario government refused to fund or reimburse Christine's surgery and would not allow her to have the surgery here since the GI pacemaker is considered an experimental device -- even though they had previously funded the exact same surgery, the exact same device.

A million dollars for cricket and nothing for Christine. It's hardly a laughing matter, but Chris is a landed immigrant in Canada. Too bad we didn't know the ministry was handing out funds.

*The connection between cricket, citizenship and immigration? According to the now former minister, "Cricket is a sport that brings together a number of, basically, ethnic peoples..." I guess all ethnic peoples, particularly those who play cricket, MUST be either immigrants or citizens, right?

For more information about Christine's fight with the Ontario government, please click here to visit her blog. When Michael Moore was researching stories for his movie Sicko, I sent him a snapshot of Chris's fight. But Canada was the hero in his movie so, unfortunately, her story didn't fit his agenda.

If you're outraged by this story, please share this post with your family and friends by clicking the envelope icon at the bottom of this post. Or leave your comments. Thank you.

It's Always Something

I spent the day today in a series of doctor's appointments. I attended the first appointment this morning with my sister, Christine. We are initiating genetic testing for the breast cancer gene in our family. Before having a routine blood test, we had to meet with a genetic counsellor. My genes are feeling much better now, thank you.

After reviewing our family tree, the counsellor deemed that my father's side of the family was "suspicious." Chris and I started laughing hysterically. Maybe it's those dark, shifty eyes, or perhaps his swarthy complexion. This explains why he always liked Pink Panther movies and Tom Clancy thriller novels.

It turns out today's Toronto Star story was prophetic:

Breast cancer gene often passed down 'silently'
Jun 19, 2007 04:07 PM
Carla K. Johnson
Associated Press

CHICAGO – A deadly gene's path can hide in a family tree when a woman has few aunts and older sisters, making it appear that her breast cancer struck out of nowhere when it really came from Dad." Click here to read the full story.

After our appointment in Mississauga, I went to the local hospital to see my specialist. It has been four weeks since I was discharged from the hospital and sent home with the Freedom Vac. For the past 28 days twenty-four hours a day, I have carted this wonder machine with me everywhere. It was like having a long umbilical cord that caught on EVERYTHING: kitchen cupboards, door knobs, lawn furniture, the bottom of the bathroom door (almost fainted from the pain). I was extremely grateful to have the machine and was very proud of my cleverness in rigging it up as a fanny pack so that I had much more mobility.

The good news is that my doctor today ordered the vacuum removed. The wound has healed enough to now be managed the good, old-fashioned way. Nurses will still come to the house every second day to dress the wound and ensure that it continues healing.

The bad news? I was shocked to be treated as if I had the plague. The attending nurse came in practically wearing body armour, equipped with a pile of tools for collecting samples. She ordered the doctor to put on gloves if he was treating me. He looked alarmed. "She's been tagged VSE," the nurse barked. They started medical speak about VSE. "Excuse me, isn't VSE an antibiotic resistant bacteria?" I asked.

After much yelling by the attending nurse, my surgeon and his head of nursing, combined with a number of phone calls to the infectious disease control (IDC) department, I learned that a patient in the room with me during my hospital stay was VSE positive. That means that I could be exposed and a carrier, too.

I lifted my head off the hospital bed and looked at my doctor. "So, what you're telling me is that I have cooties?" I asked. It helped diffuse some of the stress.

Why wasn't I notified? According to the very busy administrator in IDC, they're too busy. "Do you know how many faxes we receive every day?" she snarled at the second nurse.

If I am a carrier, I've infected hundreds of people in the past four weeks, including 32 people in the outpatient lab services at Credit Valley Hospital in Mississauga today alone. Then there's the risk to my sister Christine, who already has a compromised immune system and is recovering from her own surgery last week. (Please read about Christine's adventures here.) My own wound is at great risk, too.

I have to wait ten days for the test results. From the research I did on-line, it appears that honey is an effective antidote to VSE infections. Let's hope I don't need to know that.

Today I've thought frequently about Rosanna Rosannadanna, aka Gilda Radner. Gilda, who died of ovarian cancer far too early, entitled her autobiography, It's Always Something, which is exactly what her character always told Jane Curtin on the original Saturday Night Live.

It's Always Something.

On the other hand, my sister Roni recently told me "90% of Everything Turns Out to Be Nothing."

I have a feeling both are true.

With Breast Cancer, a Week is a Very Long Time*

Just home from a couple days in the hospital. I hate to admit it, but it was a very good thing for me. Almost 72 hours doing absolutely NOTHING but healing. Obviously my body needed it. I have a wound that, with traditional packing and closing, the doctor anticipates would take two months to heal. Instead, they have hooked me up with a Freedom Vac that should heal the wound in one-to-two weeks!

Our cat is more than a little freaked out! She sure missed me the past couple days. Now she's most curious about this little black shoulder pack that accompanies me everywhere. It purrs like a male cat in heat. The Freedom Vac is supposed to give you the freedom to carry on with life -- I'm not sure I'll be making a visit to the grocery store. If you didn't know it was the machine, you'd think I had uncontrolled flatulence! We sure won't be going to the movie theatre anytime soon, either.

The Freedom Vac is just slightly bigger than a portable DVD player and weighs about the same as a laptop computer (their website says 3 pounds, but I must have the older model). It's new and takes a little getting used to remembering to bring it everywhere with me. After we got home from the hospital this morning, my father asked, "What happens if you forget to take it with you?"

It's like that scene in the movie 'My Big Fat Greek Wedding' when Toula is working at the travel agency with the headset on and Ian comes in to see her. (Click the link to watch the movie clip!)

*Today's blog title was inspired by Harold Wilson, former prime minister of the United Kingdom, who said "In politics, a week is a very long time." Courtesy of The Book of Origins by Trevor Homer.

No Wonder You're Tired All the Time!

"Women constitute 53% of the earth’s population. They perform two-thirds of the world’s work for which they earn 10% of the income. They own 1% of the property and they have 100% of the children. Given these statistics, women should hold the majority of the political power in the world. -– Helen Caldicott, M.D., pediatrician, anti-nuclear activist, author of If You Love This Planet

We don’t because we are too tired from looking after our families, jobs and homes." -- Lorna Vanderhaeghe

Lorna Vanderhaeghe, a researcher and journalist in nutritional medicine, offers a valuable website on women's health and nutrition, including free access to the online book, "An A-Z Woman's Guide to Vibrant Health." I highly recommend spending some time at her site. While much of her focus is on women's health, she does research and review topics of general interest and has a few vitamin/supplement formulations designed especially for men, too. Click here sign up to receive her free enewsletter.

Yeah, I know I said I wasn't going to blog about my battle with breast cancer. It has consumed my life; I guess I've changed my mind.

Why I Haven't Called or Written

These past two weeks have been very difficult. Forgive me if I haven't written or returned your call. Sitting at the computer takes more muscles than I have right now. You might not think it, but talking on the phone takes a tremendous amount of energy. I am lacking in both muscles and energy right now.

My days are measured in increments between pain pills. The accomplishments have been few -- two trips to see the doctors, my first shower after surgery, washing my hair on my own, sleeping through the night.

I've had a few set backs in the past couple of days so the pain has been extreme. Friday night I took to bed and, since then, have ventured no further than the bathroom. My husband has been promising that every day can only get better. It's a good thing I am an optimist; I believe him.

It seems cancer is a major theme in our family's life.


My mother's father, my Uncle Dave, died of lung cancer almost nine years ago. My cousin, Cathy, one of Uncle Dave's daughters, is the chair of the Allen Park, Michigan Relay for Life event to benefit the American Cancer Society May 19-20, 2007.

Cathy has asked my sister, Roni, and me to be the poster children of this year's event. I am honoured.

Cancer runs up both sides of our family tree. On my mother's side, her brother, Dave, and sister, Rosemary, both died from lung cancer. Breast cancer seems to come from my father's side of the tree, including my father's sister, Pat, then Roni, now me.

During this battle with breast cancer, I am already grateful to the American Cancer Society for their on-line resources and support. If you would like to support Cathy's Relay efforts, I'd be grateful, too. After all, I'm one of the poster children for cancer this year.

Smelling the Spring Flowers

Today is day 5 post-double-mastectomy-breast-cancer surgery. It is difficult to remind myself that life is good. This is a horrible disease, a painful antidote, a life-changing event over which I have very, very little control. Not easy to accept for a self-admitted control freak.

I have been so tempted to name this post "Tits and Pussy." I figured it would likely generate a lot of readers, many of whom would have been so disappointed by the content. The tits part, I think, is self-explanatory. For almost two months now my breasts have been the centre of my universe. For five days now, the centre of my entire being. The pussy part might be a little surprising to some. It seems that our cat, Chia, cannot forget that I have saved her life twice in the past couple months. Since I came home from surgery last Wednesday, she has not left my side. If I dare leave my bed without an attendant, she follows me, tattling at the top of her lungs to anyone who'll listen. In telling a story to my mother yesterday, I pretended to cry. The poor cat started to panic. It took hours of petting her with my one good hand to convince her that I was not in any danger. Most people have a guardian angel - I have a guardian cat!

Believe it or not, it has been wonderful having her here for comfort and love. Most of the burden of caring for me has been on the strong shoulders of my wonderful husband, Ljuban. After all, he's been my primary care-giver, drain-emptier, pee-assister, hair-washer, tea-maker, up-and-down-the-stairs-runner, with much-appreciated assistance from my Mom and daughter, Shannon. But it's been the cat who's been there to make sure that I've adjusted my pillow properly, have my left arm elevated, am covered and warm even though the windows have been open on these beautiful summer-like spring days. She's the only one who knows if I've been crying, hurting, grimacing, shifting position by degrees.

She's been my loyal companion through countless episodes of The Munsters. Yes, The Munsters has (have?) been my escape through this recovery. My brother, Joe, lent us the box set some time ago where it sat largely ignored on the DVD pile. What better way to not think than to immerse yourself in the antics of America's first ghoulishly funny family? Once I am well, I probably won't watch another episode again as long as I live (I hope), and I'm sure I shall quickly forget them all, but these past few days and very long nights, they are my refuge. It takes far less commitment than watching TV. If I fall asleep I can quickly rewind to my last conscious memory. It generates only a few belly laughs, a few more chuckles and is incredibly well-written, well-acted and wholesomely entertaining. I have enjoyed watching the evolution of the writing and production teams, the characters, costumes, budgets over time. Since there are credit courses in university on shows like Seinfeld (I don't get it) and The Simpsons (ditto), there should certainly be critical analysis courses on The Cultural Evolution of The Munsters.

I'm sorry if you haven't heard from me. I have written very few emails since it takes a lot of energy to sit up and type at my computer. My left arm is very numb, and seemingly feeling numb-er the more the medication wears off. It is even more difficult to find the energy to talk on the phone.

I have a lot of thoughts although very few are coherent. Far fewer are interesting at this time to anyone other than me.

I have been blessed with an abundance of spring flowers, thank you dear Friends! Our bedroom is quite colourful and lively, so much so, that we have started spreading the bouquets and arrangements throughout the house.

Today I ventured out for a "walk" -- it was my first time downstairs and a few steps beyond our front porch -- to enjoy the spring flowers now blooming in our gardens.

Instead of focusing on my pain, misery, feelings of despair, today's post is entitled "Smelling the Spring Flowers" because it is positive, optimistic and hopeful. And probably more family-appropriate than "Tits and Pussy."

Chia Update April 3, 2007

Chia came home from the 'hospital' on Saturday, March 31 after 11 days at the veterinarian's. She was not yet out of the woods, but they had weaned her off the intravenous and thought she could probably best finish recuperating at home. I wanted to wait a few days to make sure she was improving before publishing an update.

The first few hours she was home, she found deep, dark places in the house in which to hide, as I've noticed sick cats do. After about five or six hours, she started venturing out of her hiding spots and was starving for affection. Her fur was coming out in handfuls - I think from both the trauma of being sick and being away from home for so long.

She has hardly left my lap. Yesterday morning she had to visit the vet's office again. The goal was to take blood to ensure that her kidney levels are improving. While she's become quite accustomed to the vet, she was not fully cooperative so they weren't able to get a conclusive test. The vet told us to make sure that she's eating the new, low protein food and drinking plenty of water.

Chia's eyes look brighter and her face looks happier. I tried to get her to pose for an updated photo, and this was the shot we got. She's not fully back to her old self, but we are both quite hopeful.

Thank you to everyone who's written or called with concern about our little kitty.

Now to collect the $2,100.00 in vet bills that we've paid to save her life!

Guest Post - Petcetera Vice President Richard Kaga

I received a reply this week from Petcetera in reply to my complaint about the recent Menu Foods recall. I asked Richard Kaga for permission to reprint his email here:

"Dear Michelle,

Thank you for expressing your concern. I visited your blog and was saddened to here of Chia's condition. We hope she is able to recover from it. We were first made aware of the recall on Saturday morning, March 17th and immediately sent instructions to all stores to remove the affected product (specific brands of wet food cans and foil pouches) from the shelves. Since then we have updated our website several times, followed up and provided additional direction to our stores, and answered numerous inquiries from customers. Your comments regarding what was communicated to you by our Ajax store were disappointing and have been addressed with them. We understand how important this matter is and it has been our highest priority since it was announced.

Sincerely,
Richard Kaga
Vice President
Canadian Petcetera Limited Partnership"

I'd like to think that my one small voice is helping to change the world in a positive way.

Kicking Cancer Ass

My sister Roni is beating cancer with a combination of courage, fortitude and 17 pair of kick-ass “cancer boots.” I think her wonderful husband, Wayne, bought her a pair of boots for every chemotherapy treatment plus a few extras on those really tough, really low days. She’s been a strong, brave soldier – even when she didn’t want to be. Having completed chemo, Roni is now undergoing five weeks of radiation. Every day she reports which pair of boots she's worn for that day's treatment: purple with fur, black patent leather, brown suede... I think she's most looking forward to getting a few new pairs as she nears the end of her treatment regimen.

Now, I guess it's my turn. Just over a month ago, I learned I have breast cancer. Same as Roni. Same as my Aunt Pat. Invasive Ductal Carcinoma. It's my turn to join the club. Statistics say 1 in 9, I'm thinking it's a lot more pervasive that that. After all, I have three sisters; this makes it two in four.

If you're a regular or deep reader of this blog, you may know that I had a mammogram and breast ultrasound last September. Turns out the doctors missed it then. (BTW, I take back every nice thing I said about that mammo machine.)

Since "the boot thing" has already been done, Roni and Wayne sent me my very own pair of kick cancer ass shoes to wear to my first appointment with the breast surgeon.

These are definitely kick ass shoes. In fact, they remind me of the shoes worn by Wicked Witch of the West in the Wizard of Oz.

Surgery is scheduled for April 18. I don't quite know what to expect after that. Some of my recovery will be different than Roni's, some of it may be similar. It's a good thing I've taken these last six months to get healthy. I've lost 25+ pounds and have been working out to tone and strengthen my body. I didn't know it then, but I suppose it has all been so I'd be healthy enough - emotionally and physically - to kick cancer ass.

Although I may update from time to time, I don't plan to blog about my cancer experience. It's far too personal.... I mean, it's not exactly the same as confessing that I watch American Idol. (More on AI later.)

And besides, right now, I'm still worried about our cat!

Chia Part 3

Chia is in the hospital. She's spending the night at the emergency clinic in Whitby. The prognosis is not good. She has renal failure.

Last Friday, upon learning of the pet food recall, I sent an email to Colin Perkel, the writer for Canadian Press who broke the original story in Canada. I wrote to object that there had been "There had been no complaints from Canadian pet owners".

Mr. Perkel filed a follow-up story today, quoting me from my blog. Click here to read today's CP story.

In fact, there have been hundreds of reported cases in Canada. Here are just a few of the confirmed stories:

Winnipeg Free Press

The Globe and Mail

CBC News

Even the Ontario Veterinary Medical Association has acknowledged the link between tainted food and an increase in renal failure, particularly in cats.

The saga continues. Let's hope we're one of the stories with a happy ending.

I Smell A Class Action Suit - Where Do I Sign Up?

It's been confirmed. Our cat, Chia, has been eating an assortment of Special Kitty cat foods I purchased at Wal-Mart. Luckily, we buy a combination of Whiskas (not affected by the recent recall) and Special Kitty. It appears as though perhaps we delayed the onset of deadly complications by randomly alternating the foods she's been eating over the past month. Last Thursday evening my husband made the connection between the Special Kitty food and the cat's erratic behaviour. From that point, we started feeding her only Whiskas.

The thing was, she wasn’t eating. On Saturday morning we took Chia to the vet. To say that our cat doesn't like to visit the vet is a severe understatement. This wonderful, gentle, loving cat, who also happened to be very weak from not eating, turns into a vicious, demon-possessed wild creature in the presence of a veterinarian. The vet told us one of the symptoms of renal failure is a foul odour from the cat's mouth. Unfortunately, the vet was in a bit of a hurry and didn't want to take the time to fully investigate Chia's health. She sent us home, $150 lighter with some food samples, and told us to watch her closely during the next 24 to 48 hours.

Every time the cat meowed the most vile smell emitted from her mouth. I can only imagine what death smells like; I'm sure it's not unlike this.

Sunday morning the cat was definitely worse. In our experience, cats hide when they are sick. We couldn’t find Chia anywhere. Eventually, she came weakly after we had been calling for a long time. She had eaten nothing, had not taken any water, had not eliminated anything into her litter box. We called the emergency clinic. After waiting almost three hours, she was seen by the emergency vet. Their recommendation: $1,200 in tests.

While we were waiting at the emergency clinic, at least six big dogs (all from 75 lbs to over 120 lbs) came in, all with identical symptoms to our very sick cat. In fact, Chia would normally consider a dog her mortal enemy. That many dogs would surely notice the smell of a cat sitting on my lap. They were all so ill, they didn't bother with each other at all. In fact, Chia laid in my arms like a weak child, wrapped in a blanket, mewing softly from time to time in pain.

The one thing it seemed all of these dogs had in common was their pet food, a combination of premium brands (Iams and Eukanuba) and grocery store brands (President’s Choice, Price Chopper, etc.).

Chia did finally get a huge spunk of energy when it was time to be examined by the vet. As Lju tried to help lift her on to the scale, she chomped down with hundreds of pounds of pressure, puncturing his index finger in four places and drawing a stream of blood even in her weakened state. It turns out she had lost 5 oz. in weight since Saturday morning. She was definitely becoming sicker.

We had to pass on the $1200 in investigations. We left another $150 lighter and went to the pet food store to stock up on fresh food. I stayed in the car with the cat while Ljuban went into the store.

I first read about the pet food recall around midnight on Friday/Saturday morning. (It appears the company serviced the original media release around 4:30 p.m. on Friday afternoon.) We shopped at Petcetera Store #125 (there are 46 Petcetera locations in Canada) on Sunday afternoon at exactly 2:57 p.m. My husband consulted with two of the workers on the floor, explaining that our cat was severely ill from the tainted food. They were well aware of the recall. Not only did they still have Eukanuba and Iams foods on the shelves, they actually recommended the Nutro Natural Choice brand to my husband, telling him it was safe because it was produced by a Canadian company (Menu Foods, the recalling company, is a Canadian Income Trust). Of course, trusting their expertise, he purchased the brand (luckily, together with some Techni-Cal). We checked all of the brands against the recall list. More than 38 hours after the recall was announced, not only were they still selling a recalled brand, they were, in fact, recommending it. At the time of this post, the Petcetera website has no mention of the pet food recall on their website.

Just now, I checked the Menu Foods site again. It seems they have added two additional brands of cat food (yesterday there were only 40 brands listed) – but they do not show the list as having been updated as of today’s date.

Yesterday, I also visited the Eukanuba and Iams brands websites. It is important to know that Iams had no notice on their website as of yesterday. The linked press release was posted today, although not identified as being of today’s date. I could find nothing about the recall on the Whiskas website. Senior management at Master Foods, the makers of Whiskas, should be ripped to shreds on this one. Any director of publicity or marketing should know rule #1 in a time of crisis: post a press statement reaffirming trust in your brand while your competitors are being slammed in the market. As of today’s date, the Master Foods website states “There are no new Press Releases / Backgrounders / Fact Sheets in the last 90 days.” If Master Foods needs a new Vice President of Marketing, they know how to reach me.

Hooray for Royal Canin foods, maker of Techni-Cal. Their director of PR is on the ball.

I am outraged at the way this has been managed by Menu Foods, its licensors and its competitors. I am disappointed in how dismissive two veterinarians have been to the urgency of this matter. Never mind the economic risks, I am disillusioned yet again by the health risks of globalization. I am appalled at how slow retail has been to react. It’s no wonder people became so very ill and died from eating tainted spinach. Wait for something really big to get into our food supply. We can only hope that society will respond with more urgency to save human lives. This should be a lesson to us all.

In the meantime, we have spent more than $350 and our cat isn't out of the woods yet. Do I smell a class action lawsuit? Where do I sign up?

Menu Foods Wet Cat Food Recall

Our cat, Chia, has been sick most of the week. Yesterday my husband made the connection between the assortment of Special Kitty foods she's been eating and how lethargic and seemingly "sad" this cat has been for the past seven days. We purchase all of our Special Kitty wet and chunky cat foods at Wal-Mart.

This evening I read about the pet food recall at Menu Foods, one of North America's largest pet food producers.

The Canadian Press story by Colin Perkel reported:

"Menu Foods, one of the leading North American private-label and contract manufacturer of wet pet-food products, produced more than one billion containers last year.

It supplies its products to 17 of the top 20 retailers in North America for sale under store labels such as Master Choice, Compliments and Select and manufactures for several national brands.

The story further reported, "One dog and a "small number" of cats in the U.S. are reported to have died from kidney failure after eating the food....There had been no complaints from Canadian pet owners."

Um, excuse me! I'd like to complain about this. What are we supposed to do now? Luckily, we had some Whiskas wet, chunky food. But it has just now occurred to me that Whiskas brand may be affected, too. Unfortunately, as of the time of this post, the Menu Foods website is not accessible.

I had noticed that our cat had no energy. She always comes when we call her name. Nothing this week has been enough to inspire her to move off the sofa. On those few times when she has ventured a little further, I noticed that she was extremely uncoordinated -- she slipped off the sofa several times for no apparent reason.

What do we do now? How do we ensure that our cat will recover with no lasting side effects?

Updated March 17, 2007: The Menu Foods website is now working, and, in fact, the Special Kitty brand has more than 100 affected products. I am happy to report that the Whiskas brand is NOT made by Menu Foods. Can you guess what kind of cat food she'll be eating from now on?

I tried posting a comment to the Menu Foods website but the form is not working. Instead I sent them an email. Any chance they planning to reimburse pet owners their veterinary bills?

It's Paris Hilton's Fault! No, it's Lindsay Lohan's Fault! No, Wait! It's Britney Spears' Fault!

The Toronto Star today reported:

Sagging underwear hurts bottom line - CHARLOTTE, N.C. — Underwear and hosiery maker Hanesbrands said its profit for the quarter ended Dec. 30 tumbled 78 per cent as the company made its transition to a standalone business and sales of underwear dropped.

Our population is growing. There's a mini baby boom and our bulge of young people in the 18-30 year range is in the prime consuming demographic. Underwear sales should be INCREASING not decreasing.

The only logical reason sales are down? The skanks of Hollywood have undertaken recently to going bottomless. This must be the start of a horrible, unsanitary new trend. Never mind beware of sitting on toilet seats. Beware of sitting, um, anywhere.

Yuck.

Christine Lee Update

Thanks to you the Toronto Star has received a number of letters in reply to the story about Christine.

Click here to see a sampling of letters published on www.thestar.com.

We are attempting to bring her tragic story to a larger audience. If you have contacts at any of the major television or radio media in Ontario, please feel free to share Christine's story with them.

Thank you and God bless.

My Sister's Story - from www.thestar.com

Starved of cure by red tape
Woman pleads for effective, less costly stomach pacemaker
Oct. 13, 2006. 06:14 AM
JANICE MAWHINNEY
LIFE WRITER


Christine Lee has an illness that has prevented her from eating or drinking anything for years.

The Oakville mother, 39, lives with gastroparesis. That means her stomach will not empty itself for the next stage of digestion, causing daily nausea and vomiting.

She stays alive by spending hours every day and night taking her nutrition, water and medication intravenously. It takes 10 hours a day for nutritional liquids, four additional hours to keep her hydrated and more time, depending on circumstances, for medication.

"I feel sick all day every day," she says. "I just want to feel better."

There is a device that would allow Lee to live a normal and happier life at a considerably lower cost to taxpayers than her current routine. It's a pacemaker which, implanted in her body, would regulate her stomach, moving food and liquid out normally.

She knows it works because she had one implanted in 1996 as part of an experimental program. It had to be removed due to complications from an unrelated surgery.

But her pleas to the bureaucracy at the province's health ministry for a replacement have so far fallen on deaf ears.

Her husband, John, and their two children, Andrew, 16, and Jessica, 15, also find their daily lives profoundly affected by Lee's medical condition.

Click here to download the complete story.....

If you'd like to support Christine in her efforts to have the gastro pacemaker approved, please send your comments via email to health@thestar.ca

I am SO Funny! Ask Roni, Ask Chris!

From a newsbite in a recent issue of Macleans:

"A new survey has found that more than half of younger siblings say they find it easy to be funny, whereas only a third of eldest children have the ability. More joyless are only children, among whom only 11 per cent say they're funny. The survey's compiler....says that younger children have to compete for parents' attention, and one device is humour. In contrast, older children are expected to take on more serious roles in the family, while only children have no need to aspire for parents' attention."

I sure as heck hope this isn't publicly funded science. Imagine some men and women wearing white lab coats with clipboards asking questions: "Do you think you're funny?" and "Where are you in family birth order?" Maybe these are the first results of the Turner Broadcasting System "Department of Humor Analysis," and Macleans thought it was news, right?

The New Mammogram Machine

Lakeridge Health in Oshawa (formerly, Oshawa General Hospital), got a new mammogram machine. I think this new machine must have been invented by a woman.

It's not like the old days where you had to put your breast in a vice and someone would turn the knob until it was as flat as a pancake. The original machine, I think, must have been invented by a man. A man who obviously hated his mother. Must have resented being bottle-fed or something.

This machine, I have to admit, was not the least bit uncomfortable. Although the technician could have given me a warning that I had to stop breathing.

On a related (and much more important!) note, my sister Roni is recovering comfortably from her surgery. The surgeons believe they got the entire lump but took only 2 of 3 cancerous lymph nodes. I think that can only mean good news: it must mean they believe they can get the 3rd node during radiation or chemotherapy.

We'll know more in a few weeks.

My Courageous Sisters

My sisters are all so incredibly courageous.

Frequent visitors to this blog know that my sister Chris has a million things wrong with her, including the fact that she hasn't taken food by mouth in at least three? four? ten years? She's allergic to a million everyday things that make simple excursions -- like going to a restaurant, grocery shopping or visiting highway service centres to pee -- into life-or-death risks of anaphylaxis. She hooks up to several IVs every day - you should have seen the looks (no, stares) we got when we hooked her IV bag to the passenger seat sun visor for our trip home from Michigan a few weeks ago. She has incredible energy, even though she's losing her strength. She's the loving mother of two extraordinary teens, a wife, sister, daughter, daughter-in-law, sister-in-law, cousin, friend, neighbour -- and she never lets anyone know (except perhaps her nurse) how shitty she really feels. She's the bravest, most courageous, generous person I know. I want to be like her when I grow up.

Recent visitors may know that my sister Roni has been diagnosed with breast cancer. She'll be operated on this Friday. We know for certain that she'll require at least 25 chemotherapy treatments and then radiation. She's 41 years old. Like Chris, Roni is an inspiring woman. She's intelligent, funny, committed, passionate about social justice (and injustice). She's an amazing and talented writer, the loving mother of three extraordinary teens, a wife, sister, daughter, daughter-in-law, sister-in-law, cousin, friend, neighbour AND the executive director of an incredible and important not-for-profit agency. Shannon and I spent this evening with Roni, her family and many of her children's friends. Roni has incredible energy, great plans for the future and tremendous courage.

My sister Lori moved with her family to Indiana just over two years ago. That takes courage, I'll tell ya! She's gone from seeing us, her family, oh, maybe 10 times a week to seeing everyone, maybe, 3 times a year. I think it's the best thing she could ever have done for her children and her relationship with her husband. Lori looks the best she has looked in the past 15+ years. She's beautiful, strong, independent, and assertive. Like Chris and Roni, Lori is the loving mother of two extraordinary children (one a teen), a wife, sister, daughter, sister-in-law, cousin, friend, neighbour and volunteer with her children's schools and activities. Lori never writes or calls just to complain -- although I know how much she misses us is directly proportionate to the amount of baking she does!

Me? I get a headache and I'm in bed for the rest of the day. I cut my finger and have to avoid strenuous activity for a week. I hurt my leg climbing a ladder and you would have thought I had shrapnel wounds, the bandages were so dramatic.

I don't have the courage to not eat, fight cancer, raise more than one child, or move far from home. I'm not at all brave or courageous. In fact, I'm really quite ashamed of the whiner that I am.

But I think I know where I fit in here: if one of my sisters needs me, I'm there.

No questions asked, no job too rotten, no trip too long. I may not have the energy to weed my own garden, clean my own bathroom, tie my own scarves -- but Sisters, if you need me, I am there for you.

More Evidence the World is Cruel to My Sister Chris

My sister Chris has gastroparesis. Among a host of other life-challenging health problems, she is also deathly allergic to mushrooms, coconut, latex, pineapple, kiwi, cats and all nuts. In fact, most of her allergies are air-borne, meaning if she is exposed to nut proteins in the air she will immediately have an anaphylactic reaction, requiring emergency use of an epi-pen and a trip to the hospital. Something as simple as shopping for the rest of us can be deadly to Chris. Within the past year she has almost died at Future Shop (they were having a bake sale to support a community group inside the vestibule; someone had baked with nuts) and Shopper's Home Health (a specialty store within the Shopper's Drug Mart brand, where ~ ironically ~ she went to purchase latex-free bandages only to walk into the store and find a large latex balloon bouquet!).

But here is the ultimate irony.

Chris entered a contest. She forgets what the contest actually was or which company was sponsoring it, but I imagine that she hoped to win $50,000, a new car or perhaps a trip to the Grand Canyon.

A few weeks ago she received a telephone call notifying her that she had won a consolation prize: 48 Oh Henry chocolate bars.

Doesn't sound so bad, does it? But what's the #2 ingredient in an Oh Henry bar after chocolate? NUTS!

Chris declined to accept the prize. She advised the caller that she was deathly allergic to nuts and asked him to award the prize to someone else. "We can't do that," he told her. "The rules clearly state that prizes must be accepted as awarded."

"But accepting your prize could kill me," she warned. "Can't you take it home or hand them out to the people you work with? What if I fax you a signed affidavit releasing you from any obligation to give me the prize?"

Nope. Not negotiable.

Let's presume that she had provided her address when she entered the contest and that's also why she couldn't have the box of chocolate bars sent to someone else's house (pick me!) ---

She told him to send the prize package via courier without a signature and to advise the delivery company to leave it on the front porch. She couldn't leave her house until her husband came home from work and moved the box to the trunk of his car. The next day he took 48 Oh Henry bars to his office and shared them with his grateful co-workers.

Chris, I'm sorry I laughed so very hard when you told me this story. The irony, the cruelty, the absurdity of it all kills me.

The Evolution of a Painting

Three stages of my current work over the past two days. Picture 1 - the dry brush drawing. Picture 2 - laying in the background and starting the shadows. Picture 3 - the local color, end of day 2 on this painting.

Caution: Wet Paint

Now we know why some artists starve. To illustrate my point:

On the left, my dry brush drawing. On the right, beginning to model form in the chest area - you may notice that I was both short on time and talent!

See Any Progress?

Yesterday's exercise gave us about 2 hours to create a dry brush gestural construct of the nude model.

Today, our goal was a two-tone gestural construct, more fully developed than day one. Do you see any progress?

God Spoke to Me Last Week and I Listened

Today was my first day of school. School, glorious school. I love it so much, it's a tremendous disappointment when the day ends. It seems as if the day is only an hour long.

And what a wonderful feeling: everyone I know seemed genuinely happy to see me again. Like they noticed my absence.

My heart sings when I am painting. I believe it is what I am meant to do.

Last week, while tiling my mother's kitchen, I told my brother-in-law that I had spent the first years of my career (27 years, to be exact) using my brain. I have decided that I will spend the next years of my career using my hands. We both agreed that thinking is highly over-rated. (Thing is, I suspect that thinking pays better.)

If you read my Top 11 list, you will see that most are related to my hands, few are cerebral pursuits.

I had an inspiring conversation with one of the masters, Juan Carlos Martinez, today. He said there are three ways to make a living as an artist: (i) be rich; (ii) marry rich; (iii) be lucky, and if you're lucky, numbers (i) and (ii) fall into place, too. I wonder where that leaves me.

On the other hand, master Fernando Freitas gave this important advice: "Talent is not a "gift from God," it is earned through practice." I wonder if Tiger Woods agrees.

What an honor it has been: twice I've told people that I'm going to school this week and both times people have asked inf I'm teaching! What a compliment, thank you!

(I'll post today's painting tomorrow -- forgot the camera and my cell phone was dead!)

God Spoke to Me Today

My brother-in-law, Max, is remodelling my parents' kitchen. I am helping. We work very well together as a team -- we're both perfectionists.

He's been working 16 hour days since Sunday, doing an incredible job, rebuilding the kitchen counters and back splash wall and rewiring for new lighting. He and I have been working, 16 hour days, for the past two days laying 2x2 porcelain tiles on the counters and 4x4 decorative ceramic tiles on the backsplash. It's tedious and strenuous work.

The most amazing thing happened this evening while we were tiling. Max was working with 2x2 tiles on the counter. I was laying in the backsplash with the 4x4s. I had just pulled a large stack of tiles from a new box and was working from the pile. Suddenly something caught my eye: between two brand new from-the-box 4x4 tiles was a Chinese fortune cookie message. It said:

"Take some time for yourself."

Was God talking to me through Chinese fortune cookie messages sent in a box of ceramic tiles made in Japan?

Days 3 and 4 - My So-called New LIfe

Day 3 - Waterloo. Cut the lawn at the rental property. Good news: we have a conditional offer on the house. Fingers crossed the deal goes through -- it's my safety net. Stopped in to see my sister Chris who was dancing with her partner (translated that means she was dragging around an IV pole!). Damn bastards at Shopper's Drug Mart never even called or wrote to apologize for damn-near killing her. Got home just in time to clean up the kitchen from Day 2's dinner party (no, we don't eat guests for dinner) and cook Day 3's dinner. The littler empress called. Conversation started like this: "Mom, I'm OK." Needless to say, when a conversation starts like that, you know there's a part of the story when she WASN'T OK. She was stepped on by a horse that spooked and had to get 2 stitches in her leg. She insists everything is fine. Whenever I would leave my parents' house, they always advised "Be good, have fun." With Shannon my advice is always "Be smart. Have fun." She was quick to let me know that the accident didn't happen because she wasn't smart: "I was just in the wrong place at the wrong time, Mom." She was leading a horse from the stable to the arena when it spooked at a tractor. The tractor driver wisely turned off the machine to let them pass, but then UNWISELY started it again as soon as she was by. The tractor backfired and spooked the horse who rose up then came down on Shannon's leg. Next time, ask the guy not to restart the tractor until you and the horse are W-A-Y-O-V-E-R------------>T-H-E-R-E!

Went to Dorothy's after dinner for a little R 'n' R. She told me that I remind her of a jack-in-the-box (jill-in-the-box?) that's just sprung out and is flip-flopping side-to-side, front-to-back, boing, boing, BOING all over the place. Um. Perfect description of me right now.

Invented a new word today: "erratica" - it's when your erotic fantasies keep getting interrupted by your attention-deficit-disorder -- suddenly you remember you have to take your shoes to the shoemaker, buy picture-hanging hardware, clean the fridge in the basement, scoop the cat litter, pay the hydro bill..... You read it here first.

Day 4 - Dentist, remembered to "pre-med" this time. Grocery store to pick up dinner -- now THAT's something new - planning AND SHOPPING for dinner before 10:00 a.m. Finally spoke with my brother Jeremy (who, I want it known, returned every single one of my phone calls this week!) Bank to sign affidavits so they can return the $1,000 stolen from my account. Wallpaper browsing for a short bit. Came up with a clever idea -- I took photos of the wallpaper samples with my cell phone then emailed them to myself. They haven't arrived yet and it's been hours -- where in the universe is my mail? OK, so it SEEMED like a clever idea. Lunch (cheez whiz and crackers). Sick, no really, I mean I got sick right after eating. Usual deep crash. Thyroid specialist appointment (been waiting more than 6 months, hooray!). Blood tests. She'll call with a prescription tomorrow. Hooray again! Terrible crash, tremendous headache. Could hardly drive home. Slept for 3 hours. Woke up minutes before Lju came home from work. BBQ'd fresh pickerel for dinner. One of the biggest differences: we eat dinner when it's still light out! Tomorrow I must tend to business. I've been putting it off all week -- but it's not like I've had any time!

Last thing today: Jeremy got a promotion. Meet my baby brother, the new VP of National Promotion! I'm such a proud big sister.

Someone Please Save Me from Myself

I'm exhausted. Day 2. Tea with hubby. Favourite part of day. Great conversation with Judy. Second best part of day. Patch walls in preparation for painting, sometime next month. Ladder to Shannon's room. Take down custom curtain, takes hours. Wash curtains. Assemble new steam cleaner. Steam clean carpets. Too hot in here. Reinstall curtains, takes hours. Lunch on the patio. Nap. Shower. Dress. Shop for guest for dinner. Prepare dinner. Enjoy hostessing. Dinner started at 7:30 and ended at 11:30 p.m. Great way to spend an evening, chocolate fondue and red wine. I'm exhausted.

From the News of the Ridiculous: Bono Feels Exploited

This is so ironic it needs no further comment.

My Sister's Blog

Please read my sister's blog.

My sister has gastroparesis. She needs a new pacemaker and she needs it now.

Canada is supposed to be the land of universal health care. It's not really true. Please read about her quality of life.

What she has to say is far more valuable than my senseless opinion on anything.


(c) 2006 Empress of the Universe
aka Michelle Henderson

Visit online at www.empressgallery.com

Is this Stupid or is it Just Me?

I just ordered tickets for a play. Is this stupid or is it just me? Here's the notice that came just before I hit the "pay for these tickets" button:

A $1.00 Convenience Fee will be added to each ticket in this order. An Internet Order Fee of $1.20 and $0.50 per ticket will be added to this order.

Forgive me, but doesn't that mean that $2.70 per ticket will be added to this order? What exactly is the point of separating the charges? Is it supposed to make me feel like $1.00 plus $1.20 plus $0.50 is less than $2.70? And what exactly is the difference between a "convenience fee" for using the internet and "an internet order fee" and why is the "internet order fee" $1.20 and .50 per ticket? Is it possible that the internet order fee is supposed to mean $1.20 per order and $0.50 per ticket?

What if we did the same thing on our CDs?

Please pay $15.98 for your CD. Please note, an Overhead Service Fee of $1.00 will be added to your order. A Marketing Privilege Fee of $1.20 will be added to your order. Please add $0.50 per disc to cover the cost of our Employee Bonus Program. Please add $3.00 for postage, $1.20 for an envelope and $0.70 for the productivity we lose every time an employee walks an order to the mailbox. If you're ordering 3 CDs or more and the price of gas is less than $0.80 per litre, please add an additional $0.70 to cover the cost of driving your order to the post office. If gas costs more than $0.80 a litre, please add an additional $0.17. Thank you for your business!

(c) 2006 Michelle Henderson
aka Empress of the Universe

Storm of 2006 - New York City in a blanket of snow

I took this picture Sunday morning about 8:00 a.m. looking south down Broadway from 86th Street West. There is not a car, truck, taxi, police car, fire truck, pedestrian in sight. But when I uploaded the picture I was shocked. I thought someone had changed the settings on the camera to take only black and white photos. Then I saw the bright orange hand glowing "Don't Walk." This is a color photo, but there was no color in the city that morning. Everything was shades of grey.

This view is looking north up Broadway. The only colors showing are the traffic lights ahead and the neon of a pink and blue sign behind the bus shelter. My only regret is that I didn't think to go to Central Park to play in the snow.

(c) 2006 Empress of the Universe
aka Michelle Henderson

Visit online at www.empressgallery.com

Pre-Menstrual, Pre-Menopausal, Pre-Homicidal

I have an extremely stressful job. I've been travelling almost non-stop since last November: China, France, Salt Lake City, UT, New York, NY. I'm under more than a little pressure.

It occurred to me today that everyone is really pissing me off. I exploded in an uncontrollable rage on more than one occasion at the office. Usually when I'm under pressure I can handle it. The people at work never see it; I go home and kick the dog.

Then it hit me! Today I am both premenstrual and premenopausal. Talk about stress! As if one isn't bad enough, I get the privilege of both at the same time!

Now let's add to that -- I've recently been diagnosed with Graves disease (hyperthyroidism).

No wonder I feel like I want to strangle someone - anyone!

I am premenstrual, premenopaual and prehomicidal all at the same time.

*Note to all animal rights activists, please don't write me. I don't really kick the dog. I don't even have a dog. "Kick the dog" is a euphemism for taking it out on my family.

(c) 2006 Empress of the Universe
aka Michelle Henderson

Visit online at www.empressgallery.com

A Robert Munsch-like story

Here's proof that listening to Robert Munsch causes one to start to talk just like him! This is (almost) a true story.

One day, Michelle sent Mark a contract. And Mark said, "I don't like this contract. It has big words and no money and there's a great big strawberry jam blob on it. I won't sign this contract. I won't I won't I won't."

So Michelle rewrote the contract and sent it back to him. When she sent it she said, "I took out all the big words and I added some more money and there was no strawberry jam within 30 kilometers when I printed it. Please sign the contract."

Mark said, "Oh boy! Oh boy! Oh boy!" But when he opened the contract, he wasn't happy at all. He said, "I don't like this contract. It has my address wrong and there's not enough money and there's little bits of fly poop all over the third page."

So Michelle rewrote the contract again. She fixed the address, she added more money and she took out all the little bits of fly poop one by one. It took her 17 days just to pick out fly poop. She put the contract into an hermetically sealed container, then put it into a super plastic bag from Sobey's (tied it at the top), and then she put it into a GREAT BIG IRON BOX -- it took 37 men just to lift the box onto the truck -- and they drove it to Montreal."

This time when Michelle sent the contract she said, "I fixed your address and I added more money and there's no way a fly could have survived to poop on any page. Please sign the contract."

Mark said, "Oh boy! Oh boy! Oh boy!" But when the truck arrived at Mark's house, Mark wasn't home. They couldn't deliver the contract -- and even if Mark had been home, they couldn't find 37 men to lift the box out of the truck, so the truck turned around, left Mark's neighbourhood, started driving all around Canada and was never seen again. Mark called Michelle and said, "I never got your contract. Please send it again."

And Michelle said, "This boy is DRIVING ME CRAZY!!! "

So Michelle printed 194 copies of the contract. She tied 38 copies to the leg of a homing pigeon and threw it up into the air. She put 69 copies into the wheel of a Greyhound bus headed east on the 401. She gave 86 copies to her grandma who said that she once knew a boy named Mark Goldman. And she sent the very last copy to Mark by email.

The next day, Mark opened up his email and said "Oh boy! Oh boy! Oh boy!" Mark's inbox was filling up quickly. Arriving just for him were 320 offers to enlarge his penis, 93 promises to give him a credit card and 22 viruses from friends. There was no email from Michelle. But at the very end of that long list of incoming mail, there was one tiny little message that said, "Did you go to Mitchell's Academy for the second grade?"

And Mark HAD gone to Mitchell's Academy for the second grade. So that was the only email message he opened. The message was from Michelle's grandma and inside the message was a copy of Michelle's contract. The message said, "Hello. If your name is Mark Goldman and you went to Mitchell's Academy for the second grade, then this is for you."

So Mark opened the contract. The address was right and the money was right and there was no strawberry jam or fly poop anywhere near the contract. So he signed it.

And that's the end of that story.

Originally written September 18, 2003

Robert Munsch once wrote a (short) story about me. Really! Click here to read it!

(c) Michelle Henderson
aka Empress of the Universe

www.empressgallery.com