January 12, 2011 marks the one year anniversary of the devastating earthquake in Haiti. A country, still torn, still in ruins, rises above the their tremendous loss, creating awe-inspiring works of art which, remarkably, even brings a smile to the faces of those affected by the ravaging earthquake. Haitians not only lost their homes, but their way of life has been taken as there is, still, virtually no way for them to earn an income. With this project, Hearts for Haiti, artists have been given an avenue to share their works while earning income for them and their families: aid by way of trade.

The artisan community of Haiti salvages some of most unlikely items and, with their skills and imagination, create stunning works of art. It’s hard to imagine these bright and beautiful  items could have been created in such harsh and inhabitable conditions using such items as: steel drums, wrought iron, stones, and paper mache, but these brilliant men and women are doing just that.

(Port-Au-Prince still very much looks like it did days after the devastation. If you take a look at the images from this article featured in the DailyMail, you’ll see. WARNING: Some images are quite graphic and the content of the article often refers to sexual assault and the dangers Haitians are facing living in horrible conditions.)

By Shopping for a Better World, through Macy’s Hearts of Haiti campaign, you will be helping support some of the Haitians whom have been trying valiantly to get their feet back on the ground; to overcome the exceptional loss and damage done to their country. Without traveling to Haiti – or the Dominican Republic, we very rarely have the chance to enjoy some of their amazing work, or meet the wonderful people who create it.

Heart of Haiti Candle Holder, Fire Bird Hurricane $60.00

I will never forget the markets, along the white sandy beaches, where a number of locals where selling their handmade works of art. The resort we stayed at had a “community event” where the staff and their families were able to come and showcase some of their work on the resort in the evening. The paintings, the jewelry, the beautiful clothing, it was all so vibrant and lively. I have a ring, which I still wear everyday, that  I bought from a wonderful Haitian gentleman who had moved from the country to the Dominican. His make-shift tent was filled with wonderful colourful works of art which stood side-by-side with so many others, just trying to make a living.

If it was hard for them six years ago, I can’t even fathom what it’s like now.

:::

I was selected for this very special “CleverHaiti” opportunity by Clever Girls Collective, which endorses Blog With Integrity. All opinions are my own.

• Today
• Cure JM
• Gutted

I first *met* Susan, WhyMommy in July, 2007. We attended BlogHer virtually through Second Life. She had been going through chemo and was too weak to attend BlogHer in person, I? Was too chicken shit. We chatted, danced, socialized with others and attended some “panels”. It was an interesting experience, but what I remember most was her avatar. Susan’s caricature wore a beautiful black evening gown with elbow length gloves, a tiara – and was bald. I will admit, I was taken back and it made my heart hurt knowing what she was going through, but at the same time, her astonishing grace shone through. I was in awe of her, and to this day, that remains.

Susan is a remarkable, strong, vibrant woman. She embodies grace, perseverance and life. Despite the fact that she has, and continues to fight the cancer – which she’s now been diagnosed with for the fourth time in four years – she continues to share and put others before her. Her strength is admirable. Her brilliance is intoxicating. Her unwavering fight is awe-inspiring. Susan is amazing.

Once again, Susan has taken it upon herself to further bring awareness to cancer and help support other survivors. The following are Susan’s words; please read them, take them to heart, and if you can, please consider helping. There are many survivors who need support to receive the on-going care they need.

:::

Can’t Afford Lymphedema Sleeves?

Are you or do you know a breast cancer survivor?  Please read today’s post and pass it on. If you can’t afford to purchase a lymphedema sleeve, gauntlet, and/or glove, and you can’t manage your post-mastectomy swelling, Crickett’s Answer and LympheDIVAs want to help.

Today, I am pleased to announce a NEW opportunity for breast cancer survivors who have had a mastectomy and/or axillary dissection of the lymph nodes due to breast cancer and have swelling of one or both arms but cannot afford the $200-$500+ cost for two sets of the compression sleeves and gauntlets that survivors with lymphedema must wear every day to keep the swelling in check.

Although lymphedema sleeves are medically necessary, they are not covered by Medicare OR most insurance plans under current law, and thousands of survivors go without the sleeves, needlessly suffering congestion, swelling, and pain that interferes with their normal activities.

Crickett’s Answer, a 501(c)3 nonprofit organization founded in memory of Crickett Julius, has just joined forces with LympheDIVAs to help other breast cancer survivors who fight not just the beast that is breast cancer but also the fallout of side effects that includes lymphedema, which may limit survivors’ activities.  By working together, they are now able to provide needed lymphedema sleeves and gauntlets to women who need them but cannot afford them out-of-pocket or convince their insurance companies to pay for them.  They do this in honor and memory of their loved ones.

Crickett Julius survived breast cancer only four months, but her mother and cousin are dedicated to helping other women enjoy their life post-diagnosis through Crickett’s Answer, a 501(c)3 organization that provides wigs, mastectomy products, oncology/mastectomy/ lymphedema massage, facials, and other pampering services as a way to help women feel feminine and beautiful after losing their hair and/or breasts.

LympheDIVAs was founded by Rachel Troxell and Robin Miller, friends and breast cancer survivors who wanted to create a more elegant and comfortable compression sleeve.  Rachel continued to build the company during her later recurrence.  Even though she died two years ago, at the age of 37, her father, mother, and brother continue to grow the company in her honor and in the hope that LympheDIVAs’ compression apparel will continue to inspire breast cancer survivors everywhere to feel as beautiful, strong, and confident as Rachel was.

To ask for help, please download and complete the forms at Crickett’s Answer, writing in “lymphedema sleeve and gauntlet” on page 2 of the application.

To help someone else, please copy and paste this post on your blog or email it to a friend (or your local cancer center!).

To donate, go here.

To help change the law so that this medical garment is covered by cancer survivors’ insurance, stay tuned for more about the Lymphedema Treatment Act when it is reintroduced in the 2011 Congress.

Because of these women, these three thirty-something women who didn’t ask to get breast cancer, and the men and women who love them, there is now help for women who can’t afford lymphedema sleeves, a medically necessary garment not typically covered by insurance.  Their legacy lives on.

Note: Cancer patients who are members of the National Lymphedema Network and who are treated by an NLN therapist can also apply to the NLN garment fund, set up in honor of Marilyn Westerbrook.

Random Posts

• a new gig!
• the day the music died
• 9/11

You would have been fifty-one this year.

You may even have still been with Marsh & McLennan Cos. Inc, in the same building, with the same co-workers and friends. You likely would have kissed your wife Christy and daughter Christina goodbye as they saw you off to work. Some have hinted you would have arrived at the office, after your 45 minute commute from Wantagh on Long Island, with a muffin and coffee in hand and a smile on your face.

You would have been beaming with great pride over Christina’s university scholarships,  where she now follows in your footsteps as she studies accounting.

:::

Richard (Rich) Anthony Aceto, of Wantagh New York was at work, in One World Trade Center, The North Tower, on that crisp September morning. Colleagues and friends describe Richard as a friendly, happy and always smiling gentleman. Richard was a great friend who made time for those close to him, even if it meant rushing Uptown to meet up with a former colleague for a quick bite to eat. Unbeknownst to him, this selfless hike Uptown to see Nancy would be the last they saw of each other. He will never know how grateful she is to have such a friend in Richard.

Richard Anthony Aceto
March 24, 1959 – September 11, 2001

Richard loved his family deeply. A colleague recounts Rich’s beaming face upon his return to work after the birth of his only daughter Christina. Christina, Richard’s “Baby Girl”, now a bright and beautiful 19-year-old woman, lost her father before she really had the chance to know him. At just 12 years old, Christina read allowed her father’s name during the September 11th memorial. As one of the first readers, she said: “I love you, Daddy. I miss you a lot. Richard Anthony Aceto.”

I hope Christina’s had an opportunity to meet some of his childhood friends who could share stories of the ball games on Butler Street in South Brooklyn. Those who called him “Richie” and still remember the smell of her Grandma’s cooking.

Richard’s wife, Christy Athanasiou Aceto, who also works in the accounting field, holds a position in a Midtown New York firm to which she travels regularly from, I assume, their home in Wantagh. Gathering from an obituary guest book entry she posted many years ago to a colleague of Richard’s, Christy appears to be a very kind-hearted sentimental woman with green thumb as the perennials given to her and Richard had flurished in their garden.

:::

I was in New York City recently. I spent a day where the World Trade Center towers once stood. I paid my respects at St. Paul’s Chapel and as I walked those city blocks, I thought of you.

At Tribute WTC, I found you.

Amongst the names of the fallen, I searched.

I searched for a man I knew little about.

I found father, a friend, a kind-hearted  gentleman who was taken far too soon.

You are remembered, Richard.

Always.

:::

This tribute for Richard Anthony Aceto is part of Project 2996. There are still a number of wonderful people who were lost that are without tribute. Please consider participating and celebrating the lives of those men and women who were taken from their loved ones far too soon.

Richard worked for Marsh & McLennan Cos. Inc, which took up eight floors in the North Tower: from 93 to 100. At 8:46am, Flight 11 hit the North Tower between floors 93 and 99. Of the 295 employees and 60 consultants present at the time, none survived; but they remain in our hearts.

Random Posts

• teenage angst is back!
• I’m so ‘blah’ today
• I did all by myself!

The two organizations have been on opposing sides for ages regarding euthanasia. The Toronto Humane Society typically takes a rehabilitation approach, while the OSPCA is not opposed to euthanasia for any reason, and use it at their discretion.

For those that are unaware: the OSPCA is the governing body over Ontario animal welfare organizations.

Let me paint a little picture for you:

A dog is in the backyard of its home, a fully fenced lot where two young children are playing on the other side of the fence. They are taunting the dog; poking it with sticks through the chain link, barking at it, running back and forth, yelling, and throwing a ball at the fence.

With a toss, the ball is launched over the fence and one child begins to climb that fence to retrieve said ball. The dog, now aggressively chases that ball which was used to taunt him only minutes ago. It lunges for the ball, at the same time as the child, and latches on to his arm instead of the ball.

No one was there to see the incident or the behaviour that led up to the child jumping over the fence.

The dog is now aggressive and deemed a danger to society.

It happens all the time, people.

But! because of the different outlooks these two organizations have regarding the issue of euthanasia, the dog now faces two completely different fates – depending on which one he is surrendered too.

keep reading…

Random Posts

• I am Head Over Heels in Love with Two Gay Men
• DreamHost and Me (Read: Why My Blog is a Hot Mess.)
• Maybe They’d get it if I just Breathed Fire on Them

There aren’t a lot of people in this world who laugh at my crude sense of humour. Because, really? I am a twelve year old boy trapped in an aging saggy woman body.

When I first met her in person, Anissa was sitting in the lobby of the Sheraton Hotel in Chicago during this past BlogHer. As I walked past the lobby on the way to the elevators, I heard her cry out, “Hey! Bitches!” to which I, of course responded to, because honestly? HELLO!

As I turned towards the person calling out some derogatory reference my name I saw Anissa waving manically.

She was so pleased with my response that she began yelling to anyone who would listen, “Hey! She turned around! She’s turned around!”

For all I know, she could have meant it literally. I mean, it’s not like that would have been the first time. But I took it as endearing: that’s what us bitches do.

A huge grin crossed her face as she shoved her gigantic boobs in my face hugged me fiercely, and it was then I was completely sold on all that is Anissa.

photo taken by Shash and stolen borrowed from Anissa’s facebook.

Still, to this day, I love her like a sister. There aren’t many people that can make me laugh the way she does.

Why am I blowing smoke up Anissa’s ass telling you all about Anissa?

Because yesterday afternoon news traveled through twitter like a tsunami that Anissa was in the ICU after suffering a stroke. At the rip old age young vibrant age of 36, Anissa has suffered a second stroke (you can read about her first one here).

But not only has she been dealing with her own health issues, the Mayhew family just celebrated a huge milestone for the youngest in their clan. Peyton has been one year cancer-free!  (Peyton’s story can be found at Anissa’s first blog Hope4Peyton.) For once in a long while everyone was healthy and doing well. Now this.

Right now, there is a P.O.  box being set up for those of us far away to help out.

**UPDATE**

The P.O. box address is:

The Mayhew Family
860 Johnson Ferry Road 140-184
Atlanta, GA 30342

By sending gift cards for food, gas and other necessities we can try to help alleviate the burden on their family of five. By sending funds we can help diminish the financial burden, because at this point? There is little news about what the future holds for the Mayhews.

For more information, please visit Aiming Low where they are trying valiantly to provide up-to-date information on Anissa’s condition and what we can do to help.

If you write a post for Anissa, please take a moment to add it to the Mr. Linky provided at Heather‘s site, Izzy‘s site, as well as at Aiming Low.

If you have questions, please email

Please note: the family has asked for privacy at this time. Please respect the Mayhew family’s privacy by NOT calling the hospital. The outpouring of love is amazing, but we need to remember that there is a family who needs their space.

Most of all: Please pray that our friend pulls through this.

• Overwhelming Need
• And The World Keeps Spinning
• A New York Minute

I had another post here, which you may have caught in your reader.

I took it down.

Not because it was offensive or low brow, but I felt it was insensitive. I didn’t realize the date before I hit publish.

Today is not about my flourishing 18 month old baby boy, who has had an easy and uneventful go at the world since day one *touch wood*.

Today is instead about those who have not.

Today is about those sweet babies whom were born prematurely and have fought brave, hard and long battles to make our world all the more better.

Today is a day to stand up and help these small tiny children battle against the fight for their lives.

Today we FIGHT.

In An Average Week in the United States*:

10,440 babies are born preterm

1,664 babies are born very preterm

6,769 babies are born low birthweight

1,217 babies are born very low birthweight

• In 2006, there were 542,893 preterm births in the United States, representing 12.8% of live births.

• Between 1996 and 2006, the rate of infants born preterm in the United States increased more than 16%.

• During 2004-2006 (average) in the United States, preterm birth rates were highest for women ages 40 and older (16.8%), followed by women under age 20(14.7%), ages 30-39 (12.7%) and ages 20-29  (12.1%).

• During 2004-2006 (average) in the United States, preterm birth rates were highest for black infants (18.3%), followed by Native Americans (14.1%), Hispanics (12.1%), whites (11.6%) and Asians (10.7%).

• In 2005, the annual societal economic cost (medical, educational, and lost productivity) associated with preterm birth in the United States was at least $26.2 billion.

Learn. Do. Give.

For them.

• Gutted
• I Don’t Normally Ask for Help, But PLEASE! HELP!
• Child Poverty

When I received Kevin’s request for support, I knew immediately this was something I would do. Not only because he’s a friend but because I believe that no matter what, no child should ever suffer. Ever.  The least I could do was offer up this space.

Kevin blogs at Always Home and Uncool. He has asked me to post this as part of his effort to raise awareness in the blogosphere of juvenile myositis, a rare autoimmune disease his daughter was diagnosed with on this day seven years ago. The day also happens to be his wife’s birthday.

:::

Our pediatrician admitted it early on.

The rash on our 2-year-old daughter’s cheeks, joints and legs was something he’d never seen before.

The next doctor wouldn’t admit to not knowing.

He rattled off the names of several skins conditions — none of them seemingly worth his time or bedside manner — then quickly prescribed antibiotics and showed us the door.

The third doctor admitted she didn’t know much.

The biopsy of the chunk of skin she had removed from our daughter’s knee showed signs of an “allergic reaction” even though we had ruled out every allergy source — obvious and otherwise — that we could.

The fourth doctor had barely closed the door behind her when, looking at the limp blonde cherub in my lap, she admitted she had seen this before. At least one too many times before.

She brought in a gaggle of med students. She pointed out each of the physical symptoms in our daughter:

The rash across her face and temples resembling the silhouette of a butterfly.

The purple-brown spots and smears, called heliotrope, on her eyelids.

The reddish alligator-like skin, known as Gottron papules, covering the knuckles of her hands.

The onset of crippling muscle weakness in her legs and upper body.

She then had an assistant bring in a handful of pages photocopied from an old medical textbook. She handed them to my wife, whose birthday it happened to be that day.

This was her gift — a diagnosis for her little girl.

That was seven years ago — Oct. 2, 2002 — the day our daughter was found to have juvenile dermatomyositis, one of a family of rare autoimmune diseases that can have debilitating and even fatal consequences when not treated quickly and effectively.

Our daughter’s first year with the disease consisted of surgical procedures, intravenous infusions, staph infections, pulmonary treatments and worry. Her muscles were too weak for her to walk or swallow solid food for several months. When not in the hospital, she sat on our living room couch, propped up by pillows so she wouldn’t tip over, as medicine or nourishment dripped from a bag into her body.

Our daughter, Thing 1, Megan, now age 9, remembers little of that today when she dances or sings or plays soccer. All that remain with her are scars, six to be exact, and the array of pills she takes twice a day to help keep the disease at bay.

What would have happened if it took us more than two months and four doctors before we lucked into someone who could piece all the symptoms together? I don’t know.

I do know that the fourth doctor, the one who brought in others to see our daughter’s condition so they could easily recognize it if they ever had the misfortune to be presented with it again, was a step toward making sure other parents also never have to find out.

That, too, is my purpose today.

It is also my birthday gift to my wife, My Love, Rhonda, for all you have done these past seven years to make others aware of juvenile myositis diseases and help find a cure for them once and for all.

To read more about children and families affected by juvenile myositis diseases, visit Cure JM Foundation at www.curejm.org.

To make a tax-deductible donation toward JM research, go to www.firstgiving.com/rhondaandkevinmckeever or www.curejm.com/team/donations.htm.

• Gutted
• In Maddie’s Name
• {Winners Announced!} Have Your Coffee And Drink It Too {Review & Giveaway}

It’s been five months since this beauty left a gaping hole is the hearts of many.

Please take a moment to stop by and send her parents some love.

Donate to a cause dear to their hearts.

Help others.

• {Winners Announced!} Have Your Coffee And Drink It Too {Review & Giveaway}
• Always.
• Love, Elsewhere

There’s really nothing like feeling hot.

Not that I would know anything about being hot. Not after cleaning up throw up from my hall carpet all morning. Not to mention the trail of vomit leading to the washroom and splatter of stuff that didn’t make it. I KNOW. Gross right?! And since there’s no one here to share in my pain… YOU’RE WELCOME.

Nothing can compare to that new hair do, getting a makeover or getting dolled up for a night on the town. Am I right?

This little angel knows what I’m talking about.

That’s why you should get your gorgeous buns (have you been working out?) over to March for Maddie and bid on some freakin’ fabulous stuffs which were all donated by Cindy Deily (a buyer at Sephora). Cindy decided to rally her colleagues to dig deep into their personal beauty stashes to put together an auction to benefit the March of Dimes.

ONE HUNDRED PER CENT of the proceeds of the auctions – less shipping costs and PayPal fees – is to be donated to the March of Dimes in Maddie’s honor.

All items up for auction are new and unused.

Retail values of each lot will be stated in the auction.

Bid to Win! T3 Pro Iron and Oscar Blandi

Auctions will be running until Friday May 15th with TONS of special items available for everyone.

Clarisonic Skin Care System up for grabs!

And a side note: Me? LOVE girlie stuff and am, coincidentally, celebrating my 28th birthday on the 16th. Wouldn’t I just LOVE a wonderful package of beauty goodies?! Just sayin’.

So please, stop by and bid knowing that you’re getting some AWESOME products while supporting a wonderful organization that helps pregnant mommies and supports babies. And really, who doesn’t love babies!?

• Always.
• Maddie’s Story Hits KTLA
• Madeline Alice Spohr {Update}

Friday morning us three crazy Canadians and a handsome little baby Hudson piled into my car and made the seven twelve hour trek to Indianapolis where we invaded Casey’s house, ate her food, slept on her couch and kicked The Moosh from her room. In true Canadian fashion, we made ourselves at home the minute we crashed through her front door.

After hanging out with a couple other rowdy Canadians, Casey was truly un-phased by how *cough*classy*cough* we are, and for her to open up her home to “strangers” for the weekend was so very gracious and truly heroic because we are  loud, obnoxious and crass  ladies.

What brought us together? Our favourite preemie, Maddie.

Sunday we participated in the Indy March for Babies which took us on a five mile trek through downtown Indianapolis while we enjoyed the super warm weather and sunshine.

But that was after a truly tragic evening.

Something happened to me this weekend that I have a hard time talking about.

I don’t think I’ve cried this much in months years.

It all started with an all too innocent game of Boogie Super Star.

And ended in this.

In my defense: a) I was copying the dance moves in the game, b) I had NO idea she was filming this hot mess, and c) it made my Hedder laugh so that’s all that matters.

And one more thing? I want to take The Moosh and her mommy home and keep them forever and ever.

• GPS is Perfect for Those With No Short Term Memory
• Madeline Alice Spohr {Update}
• I Don’t Normally Ask for Help, But PLEASE! HELP!