Guest Blog #2 from The Sparrow

This has been an emotionally challenging (and exhausting) week for me.  The last of the "firsts" - my mother's birthday and the American Independence Day which fall on the same day and which we celebrated together in the U.S. for many years - the ongoing affects and injury from the two abusive workplace situations and the challenge of starting new traditions have laid me low at the moment.

So today, I let the Sparrow take over.  A completely different writing style and viewpoint from my own.

I hope you enjoy the change of scenery for today.  

(And yes, I know the bird pictured below is a seagull not a sparrow.)

Notes from the Sparrow

 Are you happy?

If you answered, “Meh” or “Well, I’m not unhappy” --- you actually aren’t happy.

Happiness is like bad B.O. – you can’t hide it. It seeps through your pores, shines through your eyes and makes your smile radiate like a nuclear reactor in meltdown.

It’s being stopped in the middle of a downpour in Scotland because you are smiling like a loon -- just to be asked, why you are happy?

Even once caught this elusive quality is difficult to keep. Crashing upon us, stress and worries are the waves that pull us further from it. Recently, I was reminded of a note I wrote 2 years ago. Today, it seems apropos to share.

Peace in a Time of Chaos (originally posted Aug 27, 2011)

Lately, it seems as if nothing is ever certain. And certainly, life has more than its measure of unpredictability.  Economic kingdoms rise and fall, political leaders make history and then fade away, and personal job security is a thing of the past.

But tonight something I knew became so much more clearer to me.

Maybe you believe in God, perhaps you dont. Perhaps you believe someone or something great is out there just beyond your reach...but lets start from where I am.

Believing that God exists and cares for you is great, but it is sometimes difficult to believe that he takes an active and personal interest in your life. Oftentimes, when things are tough it is challenging to believe this. Tonight, I was reminded that if God knows the exact number of hairs we have he must take somewhat of a personal interest in me (Matt 10:29-31). Let's face it: I don't know anyone who would really care to count someone else's hair -- even their spouse.

But the thing I really needed to hear was this: God can make us prosper, even in the most ridiculous circumstances. A friend reminded me of this, when she brought up Gen 26.

Isaac planted [during the famine] and harvested 100 times what he planted, BECAUSE the Lord blessed him. Gen 26:12.

Apparently he prospered because he was thinking of moving (someplace he liked better) and God asked him to live "in the land where [God] wanted him to live".

Famine, whether due to economic times, personal struggles or professional conflicts, is an ever constant companion these days.

Lately, I have been struggling with 'job famine' and wanting to move. For a girl who thrives on adventure and change, and has moved approximately twice yearly for 8 years, staying in one place is a challenge -- even when you feel divinely lead to be right where you are.

But for now, it is something that brings peace in the midst of chaos, playing musical houses and applying for EI.

And likely, the reminder that I needed to hear tonight -- and feel compelled to share, is likely something someone else needs to hear.

Not knowing where I will be in three months time definitely has its challenges, but I shall endeavour to remember that the best is yet to come.

Always,
Sparrow

Note:  I am currently looking for guest bloggers.  If you feel you have something worthwhile to share, contact me.

Independence Day 2013 - A Tribute to the U.S. - Updated

Born and raised in the USA.  Patriotic blood flowing through my veins.  Distantly related to real people who stood up for their convictions in real times.  People who were threatened for their beliefs.  Their home invaded by the Red Coats.  Quick-thinking people who managed to get their child out of the window and run for help.  People who survived to continue to work to make the U.S. ... well ... the U.S.

A woman of courage who upon hearing that the soldiers at Valley Forge were cold and had no socks, went from house to house on the back of a wagon, knitting all the way, to rouse the women of her area to knit socks for their men.  And they did.

People who came to this vast land to live their lives in freedom.  To practice - and preach - their religion.

People who established towns.

People who represented the U.S. in the House of Representatives.

On both sides of my heritage, North and South, my ancestors were there.

In the American Revolution.

On both sides of the Civil War.

In World War I.

In World War II.

In Korea.

In Vietnam.

Even now, the heritage continues with various offshoots of the vine serving the U.S. both in country and overseas.

As a nation we're not perfect.

We've made mistakes alone the way.

The Salem witch hunt.

Slavery.

Racism.  I remember seeing signs in the 60s on shop windows restricting admittance on the basis of the colour of one's skin.

The Bay of Pigs fiasco.  The Cuban Missile Crisis.  The assassinations of JRK, RFK, Martin Luther King Jr.

Riots.  In large cities and on college campuses in the 60s and 70s.  A nation at that time in turmoil.  Undergoing a severe identity crisis.  Yet still standing - more or less - united as a nation.

Not totally understood or appreciated by other countries because of our militarism.  Our (felt) need to defend the world against tyrants and despots.

Yet, we as Americans we come together in times of crisis.

Because We the People are America.  

We are what made this country the world leader it became and what it is today.

We are not perfect.  We have made many mistakes along the way.  And we will continue to make more.

But for today, we unite once again in who we are.  In our pride in our country.

Happy Birthday, America

May you always stand free

This post came pouring out of my heart into my fingers and onto the screen last year.  I read it to give me inspiration for today's post.  I post to honour the country of my birth.  The country I grew up in.  The country I reluctantly left to start a new life with a new husband over three decades ago.  I decided that I could not improve on this post and to post it again a second time with minor revisions and a picture added.

Enjoy your day, America!

May you always stand free.

Canada series continued - Welland Canal Locke #3

At this point in the week, I was intending to shift to either the upcoming American Independence Day celebration or other unrelated topics such as a guest blog by the Sparrow, more about Lydia Herrle who graduated from grade 8 a few weeks ago, and other things - what I call the chinks and chunks of on-going recovery.  

However, I have had such positive feedback from family and friends over the Canada series that I decided to extend it for one more posting.  (Besides it gives me a great chance to showcase more of my photos - and release some positive endorphins - or whatever they are - by reliving good, positive experiences.)

So today we go to a locke on the Welland Canal and watch a couple of boats pass through.  Today, we take another break from the continued 24/7 process of recovery from workplace abuse.  Today, we savour in the sun and the scenery.

Today, we rest.

But first we have to get there.

I've mentioned before how I was terrified of heights.  Prior to when the workplace abuse escalated to the point where all my waking hours were consumed with survival, I had been working on those (irrational) fears - with the help of my poor, long-sufferin', life companion, best friend and spouse.

In order to go to Niagara Falls or to the border to cross into the States, we either had to take the "back route" or go over the Burlngton Skyway:  a high, long bridge overlooking Hamilton harbour.  I would squeeze my eyes closed.  Someone would hand me a stuffy which I would take in a death grip.  Like the little kid in the back seat of the car, I would ask:  "Are we over yet?  Are we over yet?"

Now, as my husband says, I'm no fun.  I still haven't challenged myself to be behind the driver's seat on this bridge, but I've healed to the point where feelings no longer run amok up and down my legs.  Where butterflies in my stomach don't exist.  Where my eyes stay open, and I enjoy the scenery way down below.  This time, I took pictures as we flew above the water.  I was sorry when it ended and we were back on tierra firma.

 The second challenge has always been the St. Catherines skyway (pictured above), an equally long, if not longer, structure which goes high over the Welland Canal.

A very short distance from the St. Catherines skyway (which you can see in the background) is Locke #3 on the Welland.  We just happened to arrive as one laker was in the locke having come from Lake Ontario, headed to Lake Erie and another approaching from the South heading the opposite direction.

Locke #3 has a museum plus an observation deck.  Usually crowded.  Bike trails.  Walking trails.  Nicely landscaped.  Even with the crowds, a place of peace.  Maybe because of the slow pace in which the lakers pass through the locke, first threading their way like a needle into the locke.  A tight fit.  Sometimes with so little clearance that the sides almost touch the walls.

In this case, the boat was going up as the water beneath it rose.  Slowly.  Between the rails I took this picture of a seaman going about his work.  Either oblivious to the many eyes peering at him or doing a very good job of ignoring the watchers.

From the top I, along with many others, watched as the doors opened and the laker started on its way out.  Notice the red and white laker on the right-hand side far away.  The two will soon engage in the "dance of the locke" as I've dubbed it, where the boat approaching will veer sharply to its left, almost touching the wall, while the vessel leaving will also veer to it's left.   Ships passing on the canal.

Zoom lenses are great.  Good cameras are even better.  The approaching laker is passing under a lift bridge.  I took the shot, not just to show the laker approaching and gliding under a lift bridge but also  because I found the background scenery fascinating although I'm not sure what it is.

The remaining pictures tell the story by themselves as the one leaves and the other enters.  Slowly.  Very slowly.  The red one has veered sharply to its left and is so close to the wall that if you were standing there, you could almost touch it.

And so dear reader, as these two ships pass by each other on the canal, I wish you a safe passage today on the canal of life wherever you are.  It is my hope that this blog, whether it's actively working on my on-going journey of recovery or detailing workplace abuse, or, like, the last few days, taking a rest and venturing out into the frightening world outside my door, will encourage you and help you in your on-going journey of life.

In closing, I've posted a link to a time-lapsed YouTube video which shows a laker transversing through the Welland.  Frenetic.  Almost like they're on steroids.  Quite the opposite of the laid back day we enjoyed.

Canada Day 2013 - Revisited

Canada Day 2013 Celebration in Stratford, Ontario

Passing through Uptown Waterloo to the town of Stratford, Ontario we spied the locomotive of our local tourist train all decked out for a special steam train Canada Day excursion to nearby Elmira, Ontario.

July 1st, 2013 dawned sunny and beautiful.  My first Canada Day to be celebrated in Canada in recent memory.  I KNOW I was in Canada on July 1st, 2005 when my grandson was born - and several times thereafter; however, most of my national holiday celebrations have focussed on the U.S. holiday, Independence Day, which was also the birthday of my very independent mother.  Or on the birthday of our grandson.

However, this year signified a change for me.  My mother passed away last year shortly after celebrating her 97th birthday and my grandson went to camp taking his entire family with him.

A shop window in the nearby small town of Stratford decorated to the hilt in honour of Canad

The year of "firsts" after a death is always difficult, and because we had celebrated the U.S. Independence Day rather than the Canadian Canada Day in recent history, it was proving to be the most difficult of the firsts.

So what to do?

What is a healthy way of dealing with this first?  The memories, not always pleasant, from last year came thick and fast.  Bombarding me with their intensity.

So, again, what to do?

And here is where different encouragers came into play.  One invited us over to their backyard for a bonfire and fireworks the evening before.  

I loved it!  I loved being with people who know me and my difficulties and still choose to associate with me.  Neighbours who feel comfortable enough to include us in their activities.  

It was an incredible display of both fireworks and love.

The street was closed off to vehicular traffic, so this young man and his friends made the most of it.  One of my favorite pictures of the day.

However, the actual day itself remained a huge question mark UNTIL someone posted a link on their Facebook wall outlining Stratford's Canada Day festivities.  A four hour long "party" behind City Hall with vendors, food, entertainment, things for the children, even free cupcakes.

As my husband said when we got there:  "follow the noise".  So we did.  And found what looked a bit like a "tent" city behind city hall.  A stage was set up for local performers and other attractions such as giving the Bronze Star to the grandson of a man who helped forge Srtatford into the gorgeous town it is today.

What struck me immediately, besides the noise, was the sea of red.  Almost everyone was wearing their red and white best.  Waving flags.  Proud to be Canadian.  United in our identity as Canadians for the day.

Although the events were in one designated area behind city hall, the entire town took on a holiday atmosphere.  Our first glimpse arriving in Stratford were these Buskers performing on the main corner of town.

Members of a local cadet corps comprised an honour guard for the singing of O Canada.

Volunteers handed out free cupcakes after the singing of O Canada.  By the way, O Canada was sung not once but twice yesterday.  Once to open the celebration and a second time mid-way through.  I'm not sure why exactly, but maybe it was simply to impress on latecomers why we were there.

It was almost like a huge family event.  One of personal favorites was this clown on his ... well ... I have no idea what they're called but they were springy - and fun to watch him bouncing around.  I asked him how he did it.  His answer:  Practice.

Even the little children (or was it their parents?) got involved in the celebration of Confederation.  You see, Canada wasn't formed by war, but by consensus.  We didn't have a war for independence from Great Britain. Instead, we agreed to live with each other - with the Queen's blessing (or at least consent).

British North America Acts[edit]

Main article: British North America Acts

Proclamation of Canadian Confederation

Confederation was accomplished when the Queen gave royal assent to the British North America Act (BNA Act) on March 29, 1867, followed by a royal proclamation stating: "We do ordain, declare, and command that on and after the First day of July, One Thousand Eight Hundred and Sixty-seven, the Provinces of Canada, Nova Scotia, and New Brunswick, shall form and be One Dominion, under the name of Canada."^[59] That act, which united the Province of Canada with the colonies of New Brunswick and Nova Scotia, came into effect on July 1 that year. The act replaced the Act of Union (1840) which had previously unified Upper Canada and Lower Canada into the united Province of Canada. Separate provinces were re-established under their current names of Ontario and Quebec. July 1 is now celebrated as Canada Day.

(Sorry, but you really can't have a blog on Canada Day without a wee bit of a history lesson, right?)

I've seen Canada change - or maybe my perception of my adopted country as changed - over the last 30 years.  When I first came here as a new bride, Canada Day was the most confused holiday of the year. Celebrated whenever.  Many people worked on July 1st opting for a three day weekend on whichever was closest.

But things are different now.

Somehow over the last three decades, we've become proud of ourselves as a nation and our role in this country.  Who we are as Canadians.  Our identity.

So we proudly came together yesterday all over Canada.  In towns and cities.  We wore our national colours and waved our flags.

Today, it's back to the "real" world.  Work.  Worried.  Whatever.

Yet, the memory of our celebrations whether big or small; town, village or city remain with us and strengthen us.

I'm proud to be Canadian.

Happy Canada Day - aka I Am Canadian

This week's blogs are going to be a mish-mosh of topics.  The on-going reality of recovery - and blogging about the abuse - have taken a toll of my mind and body.  Both need a rest in order to continue processing and healing.

On top of that, this week contains national holidays in both of my countries:  the United States, my country of birth and heritage; and Canada, the country I immigrated to almost 33 years ago as a new bride and where I've assimilated and raised my children.

It also contains two birthdays:  my grandson born July 1st, 2005 and my mother (who passed away last year) born July 4th 1915.  Both born on their national holidays 90 years apart.

So in today's blog:  I honour Canada.  My adopted country.

On July 8th, 2010, after 30 years living, working and raising two Canadian citizens,  I finally became a bonafide Canadian myself.

Canadians are very different than Americans.  We are much more low-keyed than our more patriotic, flay-waving cousins on the other side.

Like family, even distantly related family, we have our squabbles and disagreements.  But deep down, we care deeply for each other.  At least Canadians care for Americans. 

One notable trait about Canadians is that we poke fun of ourselves.

Although Jeff Foxworthy is American, not Canadian, what he says about us below is very true.

A Little Canadian Humour

Forget Rednecks, here is what Jeff Foxworthy has to say about Canucks:

• If your local Dairy Queen is closed from September through May you may live in Canada.
• If someone in a Home Depot store offers you assistance and they don’t work there, you may live in Canada.
• If you’ve worn shorts and a parka at the same time, you may live in Canada
• If you’ve had a lengthy telephone conversation with someone who dialled a wrong number, you may live in Canada
• If “Vacation” means going anywhere south of Muncie for the weekend you may live in Canada.
• If you measure distance in hours, you may live in Canada
• If you know several people who have hit a deer more than once, you may live in Canada
• If you have switched from “heat” to “A/C” in the same day and back again, you may live in Canada
• If you can drive 90 kms/hr through 2 feet of snow during a raging blizzard without flinching, you may live in Canada
• If you install security lights on your house and garage, but leave both unlocked, you may live in Canada
• If you carry jumpers in your car and your wife knows how to use them, you may live in Canada
• If you design your kid’s Halloween costume to fit over a snowsuit, you may live in Canada
• If the speed limit on the highway is 80km — you’re going 90 and everybody is passing you, you may live in Canada
• If driving is better in the winter because the potholes are filled with snow, you may live in Canada
• If you know all 4 seasons: almost winter, winter, still winter and road construction, you may live in Canada
• If you have more miles on your snow blower than your car, you may live in Canada.
• If you find 2 degrees “a little chilly”, you may live in Canada
• If you actually understand these jokes, and forward them to all your Canadian friends & others, you definitely live in Canada[/li]

The real humour and irony of the above is that it's all true!  Although after a snow storm last winter in which a traffic cam recorded people out on the 401 in Toronto with snow shovels, I would add:  if you're out on the highway with snowshovel in hand, you truly are Canadian!

We do have an outstanding disagreement with our American cousins and neighbours, expressed in the rant below.  As we appear to know much more about our neighbour to the South, then they do about their neighbour to the North.  When I met my soon-to-be Canadian husband on the Texas-Mexican border 33 years ago, I knew almost nothing about Canada.  It didn't figure into my world at all.  Now I wonder how I could have been so bigoted about one of the greatest nations on earth.

I Am Canadian

I AM CANADIAN RANT

I am not a fisherman, lumberjack, or an Inuit
I drive on a highway not a freeway
I live in a province not a state
With a premier not a senator
I am ruled by a Prime Minister not a President
I meet friends at Tim Hortons not Starbucks
Its called HAM not Canadian Bacon
I don’t know your third cousin from Saskatoon
. . . but I’m sure he’s a really nice person
I live and own a house not an igloo
a car is my main means of transport not a dog sled or ski doo
I have a pet cat not a pet beaver
I know about other countries and acknowledge their rights
I would gladly have my flag on my backpack while visiting other countries
Celine Dion isn’t the only musical talent from Canada
A boot is what I wear on my feet in the winter time
I end the alphabet with ZED not ZEE
Toronto is not the centre of Canada
It’s a room not a rum, ROOM!
I believe in peace keeping not breaking it up
I drink pop not soda, Molson Canadian not Budweiser
Neighbour is spelled with a U not just a OR
I experience all four season not just winter
I spend my summer at a cabin not a cottage
My first language is English but I speak some french, NOT American
I understand “Pass the serviette I drop my poutine on the chesterfield”
I was not born feet first wearing skates
Hockey is a religion not a sport
I play and worship Lord Stanley not Vince Lombardie
My Name is Kayla and
Je suis Canadien!

And to this, I enthusiastically stand up, applauding, yelling "Yes!"

Before I close this post, I want to interject one anecdote from my own life.  Because of my mother's birthday being on the 4th of July, we were often visiting in the United States at that time.  We were sitting in a church service in which the pastor was extolling the virtues of the U.S.  Afterwards, my usually very timid daughter, went up to the pastor and said:  "I disagree with what you said about the U.S. being the best country in the world.  Canada is at least as good as the U.S. if not better."

Out of the mouths of babes.

Today, I invite all Canadians to stand up and be proud.

In closing, I end with this poem written way back in 1977.  Still as true today as it was then.

I am a Canadian

Duke Redbird

I’m a lobster fisherman in Newfoundland

I’m a clambake in P.E.I.

I’m a picnic, I’m a banquet

I’m mother’s homemade pie

I’m a few drafts in a Legion hall in Fredericton

I’m a kite-flyer in Moncton

I’m a nap on the porch after a hard day’s work is done

I’m a snowball fight in Truro, Nova Scotia

I’m small kids playing jacks and skipping rope

I’m a mother who lost a son in the last Great War

And I’m a bride with a brand new ring

And a chest of hope

I’m an Easterner

I’m a Westerner

I’m from the North

And I’m from the South

I’ve swam in two big oceans

And I’ve loved them both.

I'm a clown in Quebec during carnival

I'm a mass in the cathedral of St. Paul

I'm a hockey game in the forum

I'm Rocket Richard and Jean Beliveau

I'm a coach for little league Expos

I'm a babysitter for sleep defying rascals

I'm a canoe trip down the Ottawa

I'm a holiday on the Trent

I'm a mortgage, I'm a loan

I’m last week’s unpaid rent

I’m Yorkville after dark

I’m a walk in the park

I’m a Winnipeg gold-eye

I’m a hand-made trout fly

I’m a wheat-field and a sunset

Under a prairie-sky

I’m Sir John A. MacDonald

I’m Alexander Graham Bell

I’m a pow-wow dancer

And I’m Louis Riel

I’m the Calgary Stampede

I’m a feathered Sarcee

I’m Edmonton at night

I’m a bar-room fight

I’m a rigger, I’m a cat

I’m a ten-gallon hat

And an unnamed mountain in the interior of B.C.

I’m a maple tree and a totem pole

I’m sunshine showers

And fresh-cut flowers

I’m a ferry boat ride to the Island

I’m the Yukon

I’m the Northwest Territories

I’m the Arctic Ocean and the Beaufort Sea

I’m the Prairies, I’m the Great Lakes

I’m the Rockies, I’m the Laurentians

I am French

I am English

And I'm Métis

But more than this

Above all this

I am Canadian and proud to be free.

"I am a Canadian" is a sixty line poem celebrating the peoples of Canada, presented to Queen Elizabeth at her Silver Jubilee in 1977. Duke Redbird is a Native Canadian poet and writer.

In short:  

I AM CANADIAN.

Today:  Let's celebrate us!

Workplace Abuse is Not All About Suffering - Parasailing in the Laguna Madre

Ever been near the ocean and watched people parasailing up in the air?  A canopy directly above their heads, the water quite a ways below?  Attached only by a rope attached to a boat way, far below?  The air is clear.  It's almost like being in a swing - except for being up in the sky.  You can see for quite a distance in any direction - if you're brave enough to move your head.  The higher up you go, the more the view changes.  

Just for today, I'm not going to write about the narrative of workplace abuse.  Just for today, I'm going to take a rest from the hard word of both recovery and writing about recovery - and what caused the damage.  

Just for today, I'm going to write about a pleasurable experience.  One that happened on the road to recovery (what I now call phase 1 which is before the workplace abuse in situation #2 escalated to the point where active recovery had to stop for the time being with the primary focus being on survival).  One that would not have happened had I not been on the road to recovery.

From the beginning of the recovery phase in October 2006 until sometime in 2010, I was on a road of active recovery.  Working through lifelong challenges and fears.  Working on relationships.  Life became a series of adventures.  I never knew which one would be waiting for me just around the corner.

In 2010, My beloved spouse and partner in these adventures and I went on a "memory lane" trip back to South Texas where we first met in 1980.  Back to our very beginnings.

Part of our beginnings were day trips to South Padre Island, a barrier island in the Gulf of Mexico.

So, of course, we had to go back to that part of our history.

Roaming around the island we found a bird sanctuary, lots of sand, sand dunes, a road that stops abruptly, high rise hotels and resorts, and parasailing.  Double parasailing to be exact.  As in, my beloved spouse and I could experience this adventure together.  

Ahhhh ... togetherness.

I could not pass up this opportunity to confront my life-long fear of heights.  It became a "must do" on my list.  So, we made the appointment, arrived at the appointed place at the appointed time, and climbed in the boat with three other couples.  It was only then that I began to experience the familiar pangs of fear coursing through my body.  

As luck (or fate - or whatever) would have it, we were the last of the four couples to go up.  Each one came down with exhilaration etched all over their faces, their voices and their bodies.  I asked them to describe their experience up there.  The men were, for the most part, bolder and more enthusiastic in their experience.  The women, usually, a bit more timid. Yet, all had had a good, fear-free experience.

My anxieties, while still there, lightened.

Finally, it was our turn.

Note the look on my face as we're preparing for lift off.  I think the exact thought in my mind was either:  "Is it too late to back out now?" or "Am I outta my cotton pickin' mind?"

Both would have been appropriate.  Notice also, how my faithful companion is grinning, ready to take off.  Totally unafraid.

Notice also how just feet off the boat, I'm starring fixedly ahead while his attention is focused on me.  Still grinning.  Having the time of his life.

Regardless of the expression on my face, I wanted this adventure.  I wanted to push my envelope.  I wanted to conquer my fear.

And I wanted to say to my children and grandchildren:  "I went parasailing."  I gave my camera to one of the crew so that I would always have the pictures to prove it, as well.

Once up, it was exhilarating.  It was like being on a gentle swing way up in the air.  Far above the causeway.

I have to admit, in a sense it was also boring.  Once you're up there, there isn't much to do except look around.  And maybe talk to the spouse.  Since we were in the Laguna Madre which is the strip of water between the mainland and the island, there wasn't much real estate for the boat to maneuver in, so we covered the same territory, the same scenery over and over.

Yet, it was fun too.  Exhilarating to know that I had done something that I would never have thought of before.  That only a few years before I would have thought was impossible.

Would I do it again?  I don't know.

One thing I have learned in this adventure of recovery is to seize the moment.  I may only pass this way once.  I may only have this opportunity (to parasail) once.

Tomorrow might well be another adventure, another challenge.

Tomorrow?

For those of us on the road to recovery post workplace abuse, and those currently stuck in workplace abuse, tomorrow seems far off.

Like a dream.

We're working hard just on surviving today.

So today, I want to encourage you, dear readers, that there is a tomorrow.  We can do it.

There is life both during and after workplace abuse.  And it can be good.  Very good.

The traditional lowering of the parasailees and dipping their feet in the water shot.  However, at the lat moment, the crew realized that my beloved spouse and partner in crime had shoes on so they didn't dip our feet in the water - much to my dismay.   (Note to self:  if there is a next time, check companion's feet.)

This experience lives on both in my memory and my pictures.  A jewel to be brought out, savoured and treasured.  An experience which shines brightly like a beam of sunshine against the sombre background of workplace abuse making it all the more precious.