I'm back from Canada, having spent the Christmas holidays with my family, skiing the snowy slopes of Whistler and feeling just a bit spoiled. (And a bit skiing challanged as well - the heavily carved powder made for some treacherours runs as did my out-of-shape body! I'm thinkin" "gym" for 2007.) Sore muscles aside, Whistler and Blackcombe are incredibly beautiful and the Canadian people (eh!) are extrodinarily relaxed and friendly - as are the Aussies - who seem to make up the bulk of the itinerant work force; many of whom stay on for the spectacular summers and the downhill mountain biking that attracts extreme sportsman from all over the world. Perhaps it's the lack of stress that makes everyone so nice. Perhaps it's the beauty. . . The village at Whistler truly is magical - between the Christmas lights, the absence of cars, the stone and beamed architecture, and the freshly fallen snow, the town looks and feels as if it has emerged from a snow globe. Perhaps it has.

On the return trip home, we spent an evening in spectacular Vancouver and happened upon Boxing Day - a holiday (I'm told) is a Commonwealth holdover from a much earlier era when the gentry "boxed"up their holiday leftovers and gave the servents a day off. In Canada, Boxing Day seems to consist of lots of parties and HUGE sales - the likes of which I've never seen before. Robson Street was literally overflowing with wall-to-wall shoppers and stores had lines out the door. And while I'm not a clothes horse by nature, I had to admire the skill of the people I encountered and the energy with which they pursued their goals.

Now back at home in Piedmont, my closets and drawers freshly purged of last year's broken, unused, or too small items, I'm considering my goals for the New Year. . . I've already intimated about the need to get into better physical shape but I would also like to get my philanthropy muscles toned up as well. Instead of just contributing to Habitat for Humanity, I'd like to get out a hammer and actually help build a home this year. I'd like to organize a blood drive for Valentine's Day. I'd like to get those damn tulip bulbs into the ground! I'd like to teach my children the importance of reaching out and giving their time as well. I'd like them to understand that they are lucky to have a roof over their heads, to have parents who love and care for them, to experience laughter in the home. (I'd settle for "thanks" from my teenage son once in awhile.) I'd like to recognize that my kids, as well as my husband and I, are all works in progress and I'd like to find grace and acceptance and patience while we grow and learn and navigate the world. . .

In business, I'd like to continue to serve my clients well - to help them find and acquire the home of their dreams at a price they can afford or help sell the one they currently own so that they can take the next step in their journey. And if their journey happens to include a visit to Canada, that wouldn't be such a bad thing - Eh?

Christmas Comes to the AIDS Grove

I spent Saturday morning with my family and my friends at the AIDS Grove stringing beads and hanging ornaments from the dogwoods that surround the "Circle of Friends." I have spent the last five years gathering at the Grove on the third Saturday of each month, with largely the same group of remarkable people - weeding, planting and pruning, but mostly supporting one another in our grief. Almost all of us there, have lost a loved one to HIV/AIDS and/or know someone who is living with the disease now. I lost a sister six years ago at the age of 43. She was younger than I am today.

She wasn't gay, she wasn't an intravenious drug-user and she didn't fit the "profile." She made the fatal mistake of falling in love with someone who did. I have struggled with why she chose him as a partner and have come up empty. I have been angry at her for letting go too soon. I have missed her at the most unexpected moments of my life as when a song comes on the radio that she sang to or when I recognize her smile in the grandson she never met. I have also learned that the "profile" does not exist and have had that sterotype shattered along the way. My "Grove Family" comes together on a monthly basis to honor all of those we have loved and lost to this devestating illness.

While the Grove gives us a place to remember, it also celebrates LIFE. Above all else, the AIDS Grove is a constant reminder of renewal, of the cycle of life and of hope. Please take a moment to learn more about the Grove by viewing the documentary at www.openeyepictures.com titled: A work in progress, Forget me Not (the Grove's official flower). And next time you are in Golden Gate Park, astound yourself with a visit to the AIDS Grove - the most beautiful and profound parcel of land in the park. The Grove welcomes all visitors.

Get up and Dance!

The great thing about music is that it has the ability to transform you and take you back to the place and time you were when you experienced a particular song. The first time I heard "Star Love in the Night," by Cheryl Lynn (yes, I know I'm dating myself) I was working at Great America in the "Bugs Bunny Review." After five shows and a parade, you'd think the cast would have danced enough, but being young, we spent a fair number of summer nights visiting the park's discotecque - a venue that doubled as the bumper car ride by day. That song set the bar for many nights to follow and still brings back great memories . . .

So even though I'm not that young girl anymore, when my uptown SF girlfriends e-vited me to the Cat Club on Folsom for 80's night, I was happy to participate. (plus, it's a great excuse to buy new shoes!) The plan was to meet at 8pm and when we arrived, the club wasn't yet open. We caught up with one another over lemon drops at Icon next door and when the music began at 9, we were the first ones to hit the dance floor.

As we grow older and life gets bogged (not blogged) down with career responsibilities, kids, partners, pets, mortgages, car payments and the neverending mundane chores and errands, it's nice to take a mini-break once in awhile and rediscover one's passion. I live in Piedmont now, where I work and volunteer, but I still remember how to sway to a beat . . . So don't forget to have some fun and get up and dance!