Freakingly Fabulous Friday!

Posted on August 29, 2014 by Louise Gallagher

The Freakingly Fabulous Diana!

My eldest daughter arrives home for a visit today. Isn’t that freakin’ fabulous?

My sister flew in last night. yup. F.F.

Tomorrow night, we will celebrate my mother’s 92nd birthday — all of us together. My sisters, daughters, C.C., his daughter and her boyfriend – How freakingly fabulous is that?

The only ones missing will be C.C.’s son who is at The Peak Performance Band Camp, (more freakin’ fabulous stuff!) and of course, my nieces who live far away.

Yesterday, I met up with the amazing Diana of Talk to Diana for a glass of wine, a nibbly and lots of wonderful conversation. More freakin’ fabulosity!

I met Diana when I was working at a homeless shelter here in the city and she was the Director of Fund Development for a different shelter. We hit it off right away. From her compassionate approach to finding common ground, to her sharp intuitive ability to divine what’s really at stake, Diana makes a difference in my life, and the world.

One of the things I admire most about Diana is her capacity to see the big picture, and still keep the ‘little guy’ in the frame. Whether its the small not for profit agency struggling to execute on their mission or the charitable juggernaut striking new ground in the philanthropic sweepstakes, Diana can see how all the pieces fit together and understands the value of each perspective and their interrelatedness. Diana cares about making the world a better place, and lives by example. Big time.

A couple of hours with Diana and I find myself refreshed and reinvigorated. I want to take on the world and create better with every breath I take. It is one of her many gifts. To inspire people to embrace the truth of their capacity to make a difference.

As I walked back downtown to where my car was parked, I felt lighter, sunnier, calmer. Don’t you love spending time with someone who inspires you and lifts you up? Yup. Freakin’ Fabulous!

This morning, I will drop my sister off to visit our mother while I go off to pick up Alexis at the airport. From there, Alexis and I will drive to the hospice where her father’s mother is being cared for. Five weeks ago, she was told she had a week to live. While the prognosis has not changed, she has hung on long enough for Alexis to get here to say a final goodbye. And I think that is freakin’ fabulous. My daughters’ other grandmother turned 94 at the beginning of the month, a few days after the doctors gave her the final diagnosis. It has been a stressful and sad time for both my daughters to see the lives of their grandmothers inevitably towards their endings.

And yet, what a gift.

They have been blessed with having these two remarkable women in their lives for 26 and 28 years. They have lived the value of family ties unbroken through their childhood into teens and now into young women striking off to carve their own paths through life.

Both their grandmothers have played active roles in their formative years. From summer holidays spent wandering the beaches of Vancouver Island to playing dress-up and listening to stories of exotic places, through time spent with their grandmothers and their aunts, my daughters have had the gift of time with generations of women who love and care for them beyond my greatest imaginings.

I only met my mother’s mother once when she came from India to visit us for three months when we were living in France and I was in my early teens. My father had a distant and strained relationship with his mother and we never met her, even though, for awhile, we lived in England where she lived too.

I wanted different for my daughters. I wanted them to know their roots ran deep, their family ties were indestructible. Because of these two women, they have lived with the value of family ties binding them through the generations. And I think that is freakin’ fabulous!

This evening, while my daughters go off to a friend’s birthday party, my eldest sister, Jackie, is coming over to join Anne and me in the studio to help in the making of paper butterflies for mom’s party tomorrow night.

I have a vision. I’m going to drape a sheer blue cloth above the table and hanging starlights above it. We’ll suspend the butterflies we’ll be making tonight on the other side of the cloth and with flowers and photos, create a mystical, magical scene for mom to enjoy.

I’m looking for freakin’ fabulous! And I know, it won’t be the decor that makes it so. It will be family (though making it beautiful is so freakin’ fun it sure makes a difference!)

How blessed I am.

And grateful.

May you have a freakingly fabulous weekend. May it be filled with wonder and awe, and may you find your heart skipping wildly in love with the world around you.

Namaste.

Let the change begin with me.

Posted on December 20, 2013 by Louise Gallagher

The requests are simple. An electric kettle. A set of double sheets. A heating pad. A gift card to a bookstore.

And underneath the requests, is that place of humility. Of humanness. Of gratitude. Of community.

This is the second year we’ve organized Christmas at the Madison. The second year we’ve held the concert. Interviewed clients for the wishlist, bought gifts and put on Christmas dinner.

It isn’t something I do alone. It’s something that happens becase many people commit to being part of it, to sharing their talents, time and treasures to ensure no one is left out in the cold on Christmas morning.

The wishlist idea stemmed from my work at the homeless shelter where for over 7 years now, clients have been invited to share a bit of their story that is then put online so that Calgarians can read their wish and possibly make it come true this Christmas.

Yesterday, I spoke with Jennie Keeran, the founder and brilliance behind the Christmas WishList, and the found of “Homeless Partners“. When she originally walked into my office in 2007 I really had no idea what she was talking about, or even if it was possible to fulfill on her dream of sharing the spirit of Christmas with clients at the shelter. But, Jennie is a woman of vision. A woman who doesn’t recognize the limits of ‘no’ and sees only the possiibilities of ‘yes’.

That first year of hosting the WishList for Homeless Partners was kerr-aazy!

Volunteers descended upon the shelter night after night, organized by the indefatigable Brandi M who also hears only the power of yes — Yes! Of course we can do that. Yes! Let’s make it work. Between Brandi and Jennie, and all the volunteers they organized to interview and to post the stories and wishes online, over 600 people received a gift of their choice that year.

It was incredible. Mark P, who works at the shelter, and his wife Natalie dove into receiving and organizing and sorting the gifts, giving up their Christmas weekend to be on site to ensure every gift was placed into the right hands, every thank you was captured.

The Christmas WishList is a story of community and collaboration. It’s about being committed to not just ‘giving’ but of connecting, hand to hand, heart to heart, to ensure everyone feels seen, acknowledged, visible on Christmas morning.

Yesterday, when I chatted with Jennie, I found myself enveloped once again in that special place that she creates where there are no limits, no ‘can’t do that’s’ no, impossible’s!

I found myself sharing in this one woman’s passion, commitment and heart. I found myself inspired to keep turning up, to keep allowing, to keep being the change I want to see in the world.

It is for me, a wonderful gift to receive. To be reminded, that no matter what, it isn’t how people receive that makes the difference, it’s that I give. My best. My all. My utmost to ensuring this world becomes a kinder, more caring, more compassionate and just world — every day of the year.

Yes, the Wishlist focuses on Christmas. But underneath the glitter and the bows, the gift-giving and the unwrapping, is the message that speaks to me of what it means to be alive and breathing on this planet every day of the year.

We are all one planet. One air we breathe. One earth upon which we walk. And while maps may show invisible lines of demarcation, zones where war wages and countries are bounded by barbed wire and armed guards, there is no dividing line between our humanity.

We are all one.

We all have the capacity to give. To create. To be the change we want to see in the world.

I want to see a more compassionate, caring, kind and loving world. I want to see a world where children do not awaken to bombs exploding in the night or dive beneath their beds (if they have one) to avoid being beaten.

I want to live in a world where everyone knows, they matter. Where everyone feels their own power to express themselves in ways that create a world of awe and wonder. A world where being kind to one another trumps doing whatever it takes to make sure no one gets me before I get them.

I want to live in a world where Christmas wishlists are no longer needed because no one is that far from home they cannot reach out to touch and be touched by the one’s they love.

And until that happens, I will continue to do whatever I can to create a world where I am free to give my all to ensure that where ever I am, whatever I’m doing, I am the change I want to see in the world.

It’s the least I can do to ensure that the Jennie Keeran’s of the world and all those who work so hard to make a difference know, they’re not alone. I may not be able to do all that they do, but I sure can lend a hand and do my most to be part of the magic they create when they turn up and ask me to say, “Yes!”

Because, while there may not be a Santa Claus, we can all do our part to light up the dark by turning up and letting the brilliance of our hearts shine for all the world to see.

Namaste.

On the way to making memories worth holding onto

Posted on December 16, 2013 by Louise Gallagher

The kitchen sink clogged up at 4pm. By 5 C.C. had it unclogged. Except for the u-joint under the sink.

“I’ll just take it apart, clean it and you’ll be all set within 10 minutes,” he said. Confidently.

Three minutes later, his exclamation indicated something was wrong. Drastically wrong. As in, he broke the pipe wrong and we’d have no kitchen sink for dinner.

Twenty-three guests were arriving in an hour and I was minus a kitchen sink.

Interesting.

But then, there’s always the bathtub which became the home for dirty pots and ladles, cutlery and serving dishes.

In the end, the cauliflower never got made, and forget about the extra yam dish. I didn’t have another pot to use, and not enough time to cook it anyway. The hour spent clearing the drain had completely disrupted my timetable. I had to go with what I had and hope for the best.

And it was, the best… a night of fun, of laughter, hilarity and charm. We ate and drank and sat around the table and told stories and shared in that thing that makes Christmas such a special time of year — community.

We ranged in age from 19 to 75. From still at University to long past retirement, we shared points of view and points of contention, from one guests stories of his recent experiences in basic training in the military, to another’s stories of running a billion dollar corporation. We talked about homelessness and homes, education and travel, wine and cheese and everything else in between.

And then, after dinner, the guitars and drums came out and we sang and laughed and then most of the guests left and C.C. and a crew of younger folk sat down to play games and I went off to bed, hoping that tomorrow the plumber would arrive and I would have a kitchen sink to work in.

No such luck. The plumber worked with C.C. and they had it cleared but once he left, it didn’t stay that way. The problem was, when C.C. peeled the mound of potatoes needed to mash up for 21 people, the peels had gone down the garborator and gotten stuck. Really stuck. And then, they swelled and while they’d moved them down the pipe, they got stuck en masse further down.

Draino. Snake. Running water. No luck. We’d have to wait for tomorrow when the plumber was scheduled to return.

What to do. What to do.

C.C. and I decided on a movie. We switched on Pay per View, dialled in what we wanted to watch and cuddled up on the leather sofa in the den.

And that’s where we were when a resounding crash was heard from the environs of the living room.

“What’s Ellie into now?” C.C. asked as he got up to take a look.

“You’d better come see this,” he called out a a few moments later.

I wasn’t expecting it. I definitely didn’t think it could be anything so… dramatic.

But there Ferdinand the Christmas tree lay. On his side. Fallen over. Totalled. Ornaments strewn across the floor. pink and rose shards littered across the hardwood and onto the Chinese rug. The tree we’d decorated en famille just a few short nights ago, had fallen over.

It was a mess. Ellie was nowhere to be seen. Neither was Marley, the Great Cat, in sight either. Had they?… No. No way. Ellie’s too old and Marley has never shown any interest in the tree. Ever.

It must have been the gold beads strung across the boughs. They were only on the front side which meant the tree was front heavy. Must have been too much weight.

Sigh.

Nothing to do but clean it up. And start all over.

Carefully we untangled the lights and boughs and de-robed the tree of all its ornaments and glitter. C.C. mopped up the water while I swept up the glass.

It didn’t pay to think about it. The only thing to do was to get it done.

Bonus! As we’d decorated on Monday night, the girls had suggested we needed more lights. I didn’t feel like going out to the store mid-task so we’d made do. Now, I figured I may as well go and get more lights.

I went out and bought two more strings to add to the glow. Beauty!

And then today, C.C. officially got the sink unplugged and now, the house is back in order. The dishes are done and put away, the table leafs removed, the extra chairs tucked away until Christmas dinner. The tree glows. The sideboard is cleared of dirty glasses and the kitchen is decluttered.

It’s funny. Not having a sink didn’t detract from the festivities and the tree falling over didn’t really rob it of its beauty.

The memories of decorating the tree together remain. The laughter, teasing, conversation and good times shared continue to resonate throughout the house.

Disasters happen. It’s not their happening that makes the difference, it’s what we hold onto in their wake that measures the value of each day, that fill every breath with love — or not.

We decorated the tree last week and had early Christmas dinner so that my daughter could share in the love and joy of Christmas at home. The memories live on. They continue to cast a beautiful light in my heart of all that is so special at this time of year. Family. Love. Community. Peace. Harmony and Joy.

And as to the rest… well, that’s just the stuff that happens on the way to making memories worth remembering.

Namaste.

I am moving

Posted on May 6, 2013 by Louise Gallagher

I helped my youngest daughter move this weekend. She has flown the coop. Again. For the last time she tells me.

You are welcome at home anytime, I tell her. I know, she says. But I’m too old to keep coming back.

Saturday, we helped her move. And in the midst of it all, I prepared dinner for 10 and we bought a new sofa because one of the one’s we had was my daughters. We were just storing it for her… 🙂

Mid afternoon, with dinner guests expected for 7pm, C.C. says, after one last trip to Liseanne’s new apartment, “Maybe I should go buy a couch.” I don’t think he was too keen on my idea of using the lawn chairs in the living room.

I’d set the table in the morning (after I’d packed up all my daughter’s dishes which were waiting for her to come do it!) The lamb was marinating, the gazpacho chilling, dessert was taken care of and the potatoes were set to go in the oven. All that was left to do was the Rissotto, veggies, salad and appetizer. I was set.

“I’ll come with you!” I said.

The day before I’d seen a sofa I’d liked when I’d stopped at my favourite shop (Chintz) to pick up some small items for my daughter’s new home. I mentioned it to C.C. so off we went to check out my find.

Good thing I know my man’s taste. He loved it. We bought it.

The challenge — could we get it home for the evening’s dinner party. They were willing to sell us the floor model — It hadn’t been on display for long — but they couldn’t deliver at such short notice.

We called my daughter. Would her friend come back with his pickup truck and pick up the new sofa? I love my daughter’s friends. They’re always willing to help. (I did express my gratitude with a take-home container of Gazpacho and a dish of Wild Mushroom Risotto).

By 6pm, we were home and after some finagling (like removing the front door) the sofa was in place and I was back in the kitchen cooking. C.C. got the appetizer tray ready while I prepared the rissotto and veggies. By the time our first guests arrived shortly after 7, everything was set.

Yesterday, my daughter and I went shopping for her new home. We started back at Chintz — I’d spied two matching lamps the day before that I thought were divine and I knew would be perfect for her bedroom. She agreed. Then off to the staples of modern living — HomeSense, Home Evolution, Home Depot with a side trip to Walmart and Costco.

The 6 hours of shopping was easy though compared to the unloading at her new place. Parking in the basement we had to go through two heavy (and I mean heavy) fire doors to get to the elevator. We had quite a stash (good thing I have a hatchback). It took a lot of juggling to get it all loaded into the elevator in one go, but we did it, including the glass desk she’d bought (did I mention it was heavy?).

the new sofa

All of this is to say — I’m tired today! But it doesn’t matter. Because in the midst of all the moving and shopping and carting and lifting, I got to spend yesterday with my youngest daughter. We shopped and chatted and compared notes on ‘Oh, I like that’ versus ‘seriously what were the designers thinking’. At one point, we took a quick sidetrip to browse the showroom of a furniture store I’d never heard of and whose name I can’t remember. We walked through the aisles and both of us commented on how fast we were moving through the displays. Beautiful furniture but the music was a fast-tempo Latino derived electronica mixture that was not conducive to spending time in the store. “Maybe it was just us,” I said as we both made a beeline for the exit. Everyone else seemed to be content to sit on the sofas and test out the easy chairs. We both laughed and once we were breathing freely again out in the beautiful May sunshine, we agreed. We’re both weird.

It was a busy weekend but the busy-ness didn’t matter. I got to spend it with people I love, sharing stories and laughter, delving into what makes life so rich — our connections. Though as I later told my eldest daughter, Alexis, as we chatted on the phone, the one thing that would have made it perfect was if it had been the three of us shopping together. But then, we’d never have been able to fit in as much as we did into my car.