Reconnecting with Grace

I had not had any meaningful contact with Grace for almost 10 years when I picked up a message from my university alumni office about two and a half years ago.

My old journalism school roommate was trying to track me down. Could they forward my contact information to her?

Of course they could! I called back right away, excited that Grace had taken the initiative to reconnect, something I had been meaning to do forever. I left a message and asked for a return call so I could get Grace's details as well.

I never heard back, from Grace or from the alumni association, and after a few weeks of happy anticipation, the idea of reconnecting got pushed to the back of my mind once again, filed away on the list of things that I absolutely would get around to, one of these days.

Until last night.

I was playing idly on the computer and Grace's face popped into my mind. This time, instead of just thinking "I really must look her up" I typed her name into a search engine and waited, happy and pleased that I was finally following through on something that had been nagging around the edges of my psyche for so long.

The first link I opened was her obituary.

My former roommate and dear friend died almost exactly two years ago after a painful battle with Lupus. The disease struck in 2002 when her first and only child - a son - was 10 months old. It included serious muscle inflammation and weakness that within months saw her hospitalized and essentially a quadriplegic.

Grace fought tooth and nail to recover and reclaim her life, I read. In 2003 she published a book about her struggle with chronic illness, dependence and her experience as a patient. In 2006, just months after she attempted to contact me, she succumbed to the disease and a myriad of resultant medical problems.

She was 37.

And so, after crying my eyes out for a little while I did the only thing I felt I could do: I bought her book.

It's due to arrive in 5-7 business days and when it does I will curl up with it on the couch. And through my tears I will finally stop putting off what I have been meaning to do forever, though I will do it in a manner I never, ever expected.

I will reconnect with Grace.

Extra! Extra! Scandal-ridden DMD drops out of political race

I think the whole world is well aware that the United States is in the middle of a rather bombastic to campaign to elect its next president, but some of you may be unaware that Canada is also in the middle of a federal election campaign.

While Canadian politics lack some of the drama found in the U.S., I have observed one particular phenomenon with great interest, sadness and regret: former bloggers are dropping out of the race like flies.

Apparently it really IS true that what you post on your blog today can prevent you from becoming Prime Minister tomorrow.

This is bad news folks, very bad news.

This means that in the event that my quest for complete cultural domination necessitates a run for political office, I could be royally screwed. Once the press and my political opponents start perusing my archives, the true picture of DMD is going to emerge and it's not going to be pretty.

I mean, right off the hop, the media will trumpet the fact that I have already declared myself unsuitable for political office.

And then it's gonna go downhill from there.

First the pundits will look into my take on social issues.

The right wing will dismiss me as a sniveling Liberal, admitting as I have to, plotting a revolution against the establishment and questioning authority at every turn.

The left wing is going to peg me as a raging fascist who would force kids to cut their damn hair and legislate against parents trying too hard to be hip. Also? I have no compassion for America's sweetheart mom and therefore no heart.

Once they start digging up the dirt in my personal life, I'm going to be all but finished. Where do I start?

I have proudly admitted that I am a big, fat liar who lusts after men - boys, really - young enough to be my son. Also, I am addicted to tabloid sleaze and continually enjoy an inner dialogue about how everyone I encounter is stupid and ugly.

I'll be lucky someone doesn't spirit Graham away after news of my parenting skills - or lack thereof - are made public. Let's see: I hit my child and exploit him for money. I park him in front of the television, expose him to my grotesque nakedness and harbour deep-seated fears that I might harm him. I didn't even bother to take him out for Halloween last year for Gawd's sake!

The idea that I may have inadvertently torpedoed my political career is really upsetting. I mean, for you, more than for me. Now, in all likelihood, the free world will never know rule under Don Mills Diva.

And that's a shame, it really is.

And you know what?

I blame it all on Graham.