I love listening to music. My iPod has thousands of songs. A few hundred of my favourites have also been transferred to my iPhone. At work I’ll load up iTunes to distract me and keep me motivated when the workload becomes too heavy.

When it comes to music my tastes are pretty ecclectic. I love traditional Celtic folk music. Pipes and drums. Blues. Opera. Classic rock. Alternative. Electronica. You get the idea. There’s not much in the way I won’t listen to.

The song is a bit different when it comes to purchasing concert tickets. The price of tickets means that we can’t afford to see all the concerts I might want to so I have to be more discerning.

Over the past year we’ve managed to see Ozzy and Rob Zombie, LIVE, Elton John, and Buddy Guy. Did I mention the Buddy Guy seat was in the 3rd row?

Tonight I picked up tickets to Gordon Lightfoot. The show isn’t until April but the tickets were going fast so the best I could manage to Lightfoot were tickets in the first row balcony. I’m all aflutter.

Now if only Leonard Cohen would tour out west. I’d be in heaven.

I’ve just hit send on my most recent Psych assignment and have lots more work to do on my paper.  However, after working myself to a frazzle this past week and spending most of the weekend in my basement office writing like a fiend, I’m going to take the rest of the evening off.  That’s right.  I’m going to march my butt over to the couch, order pizza, and watch a movie.  No idea what movie it’ll be yet, but I’m sure I’ll find something. Today Drew called and confirmed he’ll be home in 3 days.  YIPPEE!  I kinda miss him and I know the dogs do too. So, to re-iterate: my assignment passed in. The Hubby is home in a few short days. I think it’s time to eat, sleep and be merry. Or at least sleep.  Sleep would be good.  After a movie.

I spent most of Thursday night reading Greg Mortenson’s journey in “Three Cups of Tea”. I often write of charity and the need for social change and open access to education. Mr. Mortenson has lived in a manner that we should all aspire to. He has managed to bridge cultural gaps and helped to educate hundreds, if not thousands, of children. With the assistance of locals who understood and valued his vision he has helped bring literacy and change to remote villages.

I like to think I have a positive (albeit) impact on the world around me. Perhaps that is just the insulating aspects of ego. Mr. Mortenson is proof of the maxim that one man can make a difference. Certainly he has had help along the way. Financial and emotional support has been provided. Without his vision and dedication to a promise made in his past the support would never have been solicitated.

Our society throws the word hero around so frequently that its meaning has become diluted. That’s not to say that some who has been given the title don’t deserve it. Certainly many have done little or anything to earn it. Celebrity worship has become the norm in many western countries.

Greg Mortenson’s schools prove that actions speak far louder than words and that we need to look further outside ourselves to discover how I make positive impacts on the world around us.

Read “Three Cups of Tea”. I can’t imagine how one could not be inspired to try and become a better person. I suspect we will all be inspired to become better people living up to Greg’s example.

When I arrived home from work this evening I had a message on the phone. For once it wasn’t a telemarketer or a parent who never listens. Despite our answering machine clearly indicating our names in its message, parents frequently misdial a local school’s phone number an leave messages on our maching relating to little Johnny’s absence from school. Happens a couple of times a week all year long. But I digress. Today’s message was actually intended for me.

T’was Canada Post calling. Apparently one of their drivers had attempted to deliver a parcel to the house but found the address was a vacant lot. They were calling for a forwardig address. Only one problem. The address the rep rattled off on the answering machine was the correct address for our house.

I called them back and confirmed that they had the correct address. That’s when the fun began. The lady at Canada Post kept insisting that there was no house at this address and that it was only a vacant lot. I’m sure the neighbours would be surprised to know that the door they helped fix last night or the garage they helped build this summer don’t exist. After suggesting that perhaps the driver might have become lost and gone to the wrong address the woman continued to argue with me. Bah! As far as I’m aware there are no vacant lots on my block. However, one block over there are no houses. We have a little park at the end of the street. Perhaps the driver zigged when he was supposed to zag andfound himself at the park instead of driving up our street to the house. It’s either that or they confused the avenues and streets in the address.

Must be a new delivery driver since the regular postal delivery woman seems to have no issues finding the house in order to deliver packages to us. Christmas around the corner. Textbooks due for winter classes any day now. Lots of online Christmas completed and packages eagerly awaited.

Hope all those deliveries go well. In the meantime I’ll be picking up todays package from the postal outlet on Monday…

I frequently blog about how fortunate we are in our neighbourhood. We are surrounded by generous and giving people who are always willing to offer help.

For the past few weeks my back door handle has been sticking and I’ve been having trouble getting the for open. Today I couldn’t get the back door to open at all. I had to go around the house to get in through the front door. After letting the dogs out I walked across the alley for help. Within minutes L was at my backdoor with tools and working to ensure I could enter the house from the back. Since we park off of a back alley and all our motion lights are at the ban of the house being able to enter the house through the back was the most convenient and safest way to get into the house in the dark of night – otherwise known as winter.

I continue to be thankful that we live in an area where neighbours are always willing and available to lend a helping hand. Lucky. That’s us.