I want to be silly and complain about my boyfriend’s annoying quirks, my teenage children and their hormonally induced sadism or my deep driving desire to live out the rest of my days, looking out over the garden from the barred and triple enforced window of a peaceful isolation cell, swaddled in a straight jacket.

I want to, but my heart hurts way too much.

For those of you who don’t live here in Montréal, I imagine you either don’t have a clue what’s going on here, or are getting a somewhat warped media-portrayed version of the turn of events in Québec.

I imagine that many of you know that there have been monstrous demonstrations going on here for the last month but aren’t entirely sure what it is we are protesting against.

Had I started this blog post a month ago, I would have told you that the demonstrations here are fuelled by the Premier’s decision to increase tuition by 75% over the next 5 years.

But since then, Charest has also proposed his Plan Nord (his controversial $80-billion 25-year plan to develop Quebec’s north)

He publicly ridiculed and insulted the demonstrators ( As the protesting students demonstrated outside Montreal’s convention centre, Premier Jean Charest joked that he knew of a suitable place for them.
“We could offer them a job … in the North, as far (north) as possible,”)

And he proposed Bill 78 - A law that stipulates that demonstrations (including their intended route and the exact duration) of more than 50 people must give advance notice to and be approved by the police.

So there are people demonstrating for a variety and combination of reasons, all with a common route and all sharing a theme of protesting the violation of the peoples basic democratic and human rights.

All of the demonstrations that I have attended were entirely peaceful on the part of the protesters. I was beaming with pride the last few nights, at the casserole protest in my current neighbourhood, and my old stomping grounds.

My heart was swollen with love and mushiness by the support of the neighbours, banging pots on their balconies, the passers by honking from their cars, the tennis players banging their rackets on the chain link, the City worker passing by, clanging a frying pan against the door of her truck…

I felt a true sense of unity, for a very human cause.

The students get a bad rap, for “complaining” about tuition hikes, despite having the lowest tuition in the country - but we also have the highest taxes in the country and horrifically mismanaged governmental funds.

And it’s not only students who are up in arms. There have been up to and over 200,000 protesters of all ages, and financial and social status marching in these protests.

The demonstrators get a bad rap here for having thrown rocks through a few bank windows, lighting garbage cans on fire and even setting off a couple of smoke bombs in the metro and throwing “projectiles” at the riot squad.

I myself am 100% against all any any violence directed at anyone. Ever. And I also don’t support the demonstrators trying to impede other students from attending classes. It’s hypocritical and unfair.

But I hold the government and it’s officials to a higher standard and proposing a police state, in a province where the police have been on a rampage of undisciplined brutality that is so absolutely horrifying it makes me want to scream and break things and run away to live in a tent in Costa Rica. Countless protesters, as well as many innocent bystanders, have been pepper-sprayed, kettled, gassed, beaten, maimed, and sexually assaulted etc… in the last month.

One of these said victims of police brutality, is currently in the trauma Centre of St-Luc Hospital, with his spinal cord severed and fractured vertebrae and is in a deep coma with little chance of survival.

There have been over 1500 arrests over the past month. Most of these arrests have been for merely demonstrating. Much of the violence has been directed at demonstrators who, with their back turned, are completely unsuspecting - including Françis Grenier, who was shot directly in the side of the face with a rubber bullet, subsequently hospitalized for several days, underwent surgery and is possibly permanently blind in one eye as a result.

Police have been caught on video, in uniform, breaking the windows of businesses and even stealing money.

It’s completely out of control but if the Government backs down, they send the message that the people need only stage mutiny to over run them.

If the demonstrators back down, they send the message that need only be aggressed into submission.

It’s a vicious circle and I don’t see an end in sight. And that makes my heart hurt.

Originally I had embedded a video montage of some of the police brutality the citizens of Quebec are suffering but it’s too vulgar and discouraging.

This one made me cry even more. It made me feel hopeful.

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With the menace of a thunder and lightening storm looming overhead we gathered at Parc Jeanne-Mance last night.
Adults, children and dogs came together for the Picnic In The Park & Pots & Pans Parade.
We circled the park at 8pm. Neighbors came out from their houses and joined in. Cars honked their horns. Tennis players stopped their game to wave their rackets in the air and bang them on the chain link fence. Cyclists rode by with tin cans strung from the back of their bikes. The baseball game erupted in cheers and applause, and even the city park worker circled the grounds, banging a frying pan on the door of her truck.
I was full of warmth and pride and my eyes were full of tears.

On the way home, I witnessed a gross abuse of power on the part of the STM security guards and the Montreal Police and I felt like pulling the pot and spatula from my bag in protest, but my hands were busy filming it for the passenger who was being aggressed.

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Tonight, when getting off the Metro, at Vendome, many of us were stopped by the STM security to have our bus tickets/Opus cards verified. The guy in front of me had left his on the Metro, not needing it anymore.

My understanding is that his fiance had her ticket with her so it was pretty fair to assume that he was telling the truth but instead of letting it go, the security threatened to arrest him if he tried to leave the Metro Station.

Seemingly unfazed, the guy in question just kind of blew off the security as being ridiculous (as they clearly were) and kept walking, they tried to grab him and yelled at him that he would be arrested. He reminded them that they are not police officers and and insisted that they stop touching him. One of the security guards repeated a few times “You have the right to remain silent”.

When one of the STM officers grabbed his fiance’s arm, the man got between them and told them not to touch her either. The security continued to argue and grab at the passenger and then finally dragged him through the turnstile, shoved him up against a door and handcuffed him. When he asked why they were handcuffing him they told him it was for his security.

While I was filming, one of the security officers kept walking in front of my camera, trying to block my view, and two others walked towards me, trying to shine their flashlights directly into the lens of my camera, presumably to stop me from filming, as they dragged the passenger behind a door. We heard crashing noises and him screaming for help. The police were called and the door to the small room where they were holding the passenger was closed.

Even if he never had a bus ticket, which I believe he did, was it worth the time and energy of the 7 STM employees and 2 police officers, not to mention our tax dollars, to violently arrest somebody over????

Point of interest (or not) might be, that right around the corner, in that very same metro station, at that very same moment, sat a group of about 8 minors (between the ages of 14-17) rolling and smoking joints.

Just saying…

The sound is inconsistent and the video is long but I am too tired to edit it for you. Maybe later.

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Walking home yesterday evening we bumped right smack dab into the the middle of NDG’s “casserole protest” parade at Giouard park.
The police asked that we stay on Sherbrooke street rather than walking around the perimeter of the park, which made the parading look a little strange but it was a worthy effort and I’m proud of my neighborhood, even if there were more police officers than participants. “wake up NDG!” was the slogan of the night.
[caption id=”attachment_5256” align=”aligncenter” width=”584” caption=”Casserole Protest Montreal NDG Thursday May 24 2012”][/caption]
I wish I had had a real camera with me instead of just my phone.

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There, I said it. Are you happy?

But it only happened (and only ever will happen) once and I blame it on exhaustion, travel and the mind numbing side effects of raising adolescents.I was off my game.

There is a vegetarian restaurant downtown that Franky is boycotting on account of the painfully slow service, the blatant health code violations and the “f@#&ing hippies” that work there.

I naturally disregarded his rantings and blew them off as yet another symptom of his debilitating condition, cranky-old-man disorder.

“The rice was mushy, the plate was filthy, it took almost an hour to get to our table blah blah blah bllaghlefeawafhggg…”

Silly Franky. He really should learn to be more mindful. Food is a magical and splendid thing, worth waiting for, savouring and connecting with. It’s not a rushed disposable stuff, made for cramming carelessly into our faces. We should take these moments, while waiting for our food, to thank the universe for providing us with its bounty, our life source.

And about the dirty dish, honestly? This Lysol society is so obsessed with disinfectant and sterility that half of us are crippled by autoimmune diseases, asthma and allergies as a result. No need to eat directly off anti-bacterial wipes and wash down our sprout sandwiches with pints of sanitizing gel.

So! Tuesday afternoon, Thing 2 and I went to, despite fair warning not to, the sandwich shop for a bite to eat.

When you first walk in, the impression is of a funky, artsy, student hang-out. Mismatched furniture, colourful walls, Christmas lights, a piano and a laid-back, comfy atmosphere.

We ordered our sandwiches and took a look around. At first it was difficult to chose where to sit, as there are so many room, nooks and crannies.

But as our seat sampling switched to a quest for a not filthy table, as the grime creeping down all the walls and furniture became more and more apparent…

Thing 2: Mom, I’m sorry but this chair smells like vagina, can we change seats?

Me: Is that a bed bug crawling up your arm?

I excused myself to go to the washroom, to wash my hands, but the sink was so crusty, I didn’t want to touch the faucets.

We moved to bar, then to the window, to watch the demonstrates march by, then over to the kitchen counter, where we discovered that, even after having already been waiting half an hour, despite being the ONLY customers in the restaurant, not even ONE of the sandwiches were made.

Even more awesome, there were FOUR employees standing over the ONE unfinished sandwich, discussing who-knows-what and none of them actually doing anything. Ten minutes later, some guy picked up a piece of bread (presumably to start the second sandwich) with the same hands he’d just wiped his sweaty forehead with then wiped on his visibly filth encrusted jeans.

Thing 2 and I took one look at each-other, stood up and walked out the door.

I would have asked for my money back but I didn’t have another hour to spare.

I’d warn you not to eat there but I’m not the kind of girl to name names and what-have-you, that’s just tasteless and tacky and the point of the post wasn’t to trash the dive or anything. It was simply to recognize the one and only time that Franky was right…and I was wrong.

Oh yeah, and also…

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Dear Boston,
We’ll always have a special connection you and I. Among the intimate moments we have shared, a monumental milestone in my life, a first. As, before you came into my life, I had never seen a real topiary Elephant. Ever.

I’ve never seen such thoughtfulness through street signage either. Sure Toronto encourages you to Mind The Gap -every opportunity it gets, but this, this is above and beyond considerate.
Because we all know how annoying it can be to suddenly come across blind slow people without warning…

And whole days where standing is forbidden? Some might find this rude and controlling but I, for one, welcome the insistence that I take a load off.

But I think, most of all, I love your excellent parenting strategies. I met some teenagers this weekend whose parents give them consequences if they get anything less than a B+ on any given subject in school!

I’m lucky if I can get my kids to go to school at all, and good luck finding them, if ever I should wish to enforce any kind of consequences.

After a little walk around Hyde Park I started to feel inspired, and hopeful about finding parenting solutions and I think we’ll be on the right track again soon.

Thank you for that…

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One more sleep until MF Daisy’s Songbook Concert, Radioshow!
Come join us for an afternoon of song and dance and all kinds of awesome!

Also, for those of you who wanted to pledge a donation there are only a few short hours left to do it.

All proceeds from the show go to Dignity Productions

Through Plays, Poems, Music, Dance, Art Exhibits and other creative endeavours, Dignity Productions supports the efforts of The Fistula Foundation in eradicating Obstetric Fistula (a devastating birth injury) and restoring dignity to the lives of the over 2,000,000 women who are its victims.

They need to know THEY ARE NOT ALONE

And you can donate as little as a dollar if you wish, by clicking on this poster:

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“Hey Frenchie!! C’mere!”

I guess sensitivity training and How Not To Be A Racist Dick were not offered at Border Patrol school huh?

Things I don’t love #564 Going through customs.

She turns to a sweet old Chinese couple,

“Are you sure you don’t have anything to declare? No weird litchis or funky prickly cucumbers or anything?”

I clung to my lunch bag, white knuckling my sprout salad.

“Anything to declare?”

Her fat, pasty, sourpuss face, pock-marked and blotched with glossy patches of Rosacea,

“Nope”

I don’t fully understand why or how we get to claim whole countries, set up random stalls and then dictate who is allowed to pass them and what qualifies them to do so.

It feels like a childish game.

“You can only pass if you have 6 acorns and 2 hot wheels and a juice box”

“here”

“You may go”

“Thanks, oh and by the way, you’re an ugly doody-head”

“Okay, now you can’t pass AND I’m going to tie you up and put you in the tree-house until snack time!”

I find this especially bizarre in places like North America, where the people who rule these borders AREN’T ACTUALLY FROM HERE.

Seriously.

We travel across the world, crawl up on shore, beat the shit out of everyone who lives there already, and then make up these rules about who else is allowed to come hang out here, backed up with fear tactics and threats of terrorism and swaddled in promise of security and world peace and what-have-you.

Honestly, I’m thinking that terrorizing colonizing
the natives, holding them hostage, refusing to let them speak their language, inflicting religion on them, stealing their children, raping, pillaging, murdering etc… it’s a little terrorist-y in itself…

Am I wrong?

All right, so it is what it is, and now we have border crossings and I get that there is a strategy in place here but will we really psych people out enough to get them to admit they’re sneaking 4 litres of milk and pack of Marlboros into the country?

I mean, do you seriously think that by calling somebody names or accusing them of loving Bok Choy, you’re going to mind-fuck the terrorist out of them?

Really? REALLY?

Because if Homeland Security’s deeply thought-out interrogation tactics, meant to protect an entire nation from destruction and all that is evil, including terrorists, immigrants and gypsy moths, consists of asking if somebody is secretly harbouring any “funky prickly cucumbers” they might want to rethink things.

I’m just saying…

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I gained 7 pounds. There I said it.

I gained 7 pounds in just a couple of weeks.

Maybe it’s because I’ve been so ridiculously busy that I haven’t found time to exercise.

Maybe it’s because one of my evil daughters went out and got herself a job at the Rockaberry Pie Shop.

Maybe it’s because I’m an emotional eater (There. I said that too).
I know it’s cliché, if you had accused me of it weeks ago I would have rolled my eyes and huffed and puffed, punched your lights, out AND kicked one of my kids to show how much I meant it when I said: As if! And also, that is so cliché!

But I caught myself in the act a few nights ago and it wasn’t pretty.

I had already eaten supper and kept grazing on left-overs while I cleaned up the dishes, in between handfuls of trail-mix and aking repeated trips to the freezer to sneak Coconut Bliss, ONE TABLESPOON at a time.

Not cool Jen. Not cool.

Everyone has days like that, and if it really was just one of those days, I would have thought nothing of it HOWEVER…

I heard the words leave my lips, loud and clear: “I don’t feel better. I need to eat more”. I said those words. I did.

And I stopped and reflected, realizing, that these days are happening more and more often lately.

I eat really well, I do. And I don’t mean - I eat a lot, like “Oh.. your baby eats so well!”

I mean I am a vegan who LOVES veggies and eats almost exclusively whole grains and organic and I limit my intake of processed foods, including tofu and soy milk. Seriously. I eat well.

But… my exercise obsessions routine is sporadic at best and my eating habits suck.

I often go all day without eating and then stuff myself at supper, or graze all night or do that going back to the freezer thing, one tablespoon at a time or whatever.

I’ve been thinking about it and talking to friends, and reading the blog of the ever inspiring Sheryl Yvette - A Neurotic Glamour Girl’s Weight Watchers Experience and Fitness Adventures.

-Side note: I totally did not want to share that link with you girls. I wanted to keep her to myself forever. I’m serious. I did not want to include her name or her blog address. Weird. This is extra stupid because I already interviewed her last year, for Sweet Vegan, and plastered her URL all over the internet.

I think I might have issues.

Must be all this sneaking around with secrets about ice cream and stuff. It’s getting to me.

So! here’s something else I’d rather not share.

Last Wednesday I opened up my laptop and searched Weight Watchers and clicked on Meeting Locator, and within and hour and a half, I was standing in a weigh-in line-up with a bunch of strangers.

I’m serious.

I went to a weight watchers meeting.

I’m not going to lie (anymore), I found it uncomfortable at first.

None of the people there looked like me. They drank flavoured water and wore slacks and sensible shoes (oh the horror) and they were munching on little bags of Weight Watchers snack bars and processed treats that I wouldn’t eat if you paid me.

Also, the meeting part seemed really silly to me at first. The topics (so far) don’t seem to apply to me. I don’t shop in supermarkets really and, being vegan, I’m pretty sure I don’t eat the same things as most of the people in my meetings. And, as many of you know, I don’t don’t do very well in those sorts of settings. I tend to feel patronized easily, so when some super smiley face asks me if I go grocery shopping on an empty stomach, I kind of want to leave, on account of having nursery school flash backs.

“Who here shops on an empty stomach? Raise your hands!”

But I realized part way through„ that it didn’t really matter what the topic was. It mattered that everyone in the room had a common goal, to get healthy, and were there to support themselves and each other. And there are occasional little tips that help.

Like, bring a bottle of water or tea with you when you shop, it will keep you from shopping with your stomach. For example.

And there is something really helpful about having to hold yourself accountable, by going to the weigh-ins every week and  something kind of cool about having a whole room full of strangers, men and women,  encouraging you and celebrating your (on and off-scale) victories.

Last night was my second meeting and guess what!

I lost 3.4 lbs! yessir. I did.

I ate all the foods I love, and drank wine, and only exercised a few days this week, on account of being bit by this nasty coughing bug, and I still lost a few pounds. And I even got a little sticker on my tracker that says Bravo. So, Yay me!

[caption id=”attachment_5165” align=”aligncenter” width=”335” caption=”Sheryl Yvette On The Cover Of Weight Watchers Weekly!”][/caption]

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I feel like ass.

I can’t stop coughing.

I can’t breathe without wheezing.

Every time I cough or sneeze I spit on myself and pee my pants a little bit.

I’ve run out of Kleenex.

Ooops, I mean. My body is *hack* my temple.
*cough* I am in perfect *sneeze and pee* physical, mental and emotional *wheeze* health…

I’d go to the clinic but half the people I know have this stupid bug and haven’t gotten any help from the doctor. Thing 3 went a few days ago and they told her they didn’t know what she has but prescribed her steroids and two asthma inhalers anyway.

No thanks.

And in other news, only 2 more sleeps until I leave for Boston, where I will perform (in only 4 more sleeps) in MF Daisy’s (aka Mom) Radioshow!

Speaking of which, for those of you who still want to pledge a donation to Dignity Productions, there are only 3 days left to do it. More info HERE.

In the meantime, I’m going to go strap on a diaper and do/ingest all of these things at the same time:

and take a pregnancy test. Which is probably all the doctor would do if I went to the clinic anyway…

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