The Beautiful Beast

From September 2017 to March 2018 the Youth of the Kitchener Ontario Stake of

The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints

participated in a production of

Beauty and the Beast, the Broadway Musical.

It was a proud Mother moment for me as my Rémi played the Beast 

and blew me away with his acting and musical talents.

He told well the story and transformation of a 

selfish man 

who

transforms 

into

a hideous Beast

and then

finally transforms into 

a tender, caring and loving man.

His emotional intelligence was on strong display

as he took us on this journey and grasped our hearts with 

fear, doubt, hope and love.

So impactful was his performance that my Dad turned to me and said,

"I just can't believe that's Rémi!"

My Dad was so enchanted by his Grandson that whenever he sees Rémi, 

he now refers to him as

"The Beautiful Beast."

Remi was not alone in the telling of this captivating story.

Along with a dedicated cast of his fellow peers in our church, was the 

supporting roles of his brother, Yvon and sister, Melaia.

Yvon played the "comic relief" character, "Nick" who was a villager and die hard 

follower of Gaston, the self-absorbed vilan.

Yvon showcased his singing and comedy chops and 

also showed the ladies 

his silly dance moves and his muscular lifts (of other characters!).

Melaia dazzled us with her infectious smile while 

dancing as an enchanted fork

or roaming through the village as an old lady & bar maid.

The thing I'm most proud of?

I was so pleased to see my children 

bonding together

as they worked together 

to learn lines or songs,

as they gave each other ideas for their characters and

as they celebrated in each of their successes.

They fight less in the home and uplift more.

I'm in awe and I'm so grateful for this experience that they shared together.

Here are my fave pics from the show. 

The first is a "behind the scenes" view of my boys in the "green room," 

waiting for their cues.

Photo taken and posted to Instagram by @Rachel_Sid

You can probably guess why this is a fave pic of mine too...

Yvon (16yrs.), Melaia (12and3/4yrs.), Rémi, the "Beautiful Beast" (15yrs.)

Christmas in July

Dear July,

thank you for blessing my Dad with his

76th birthday.

(I'm glad my Dad's here to witness everything below.)

Croc family

Thank you for the gift of

an incredible first young women's camp experience

as a leader with stellar young women.

(I feared that role for years!)

Thank you for my acceptance to be a 

Masters student

at

Wilfrid Laurier University

in the

Masters of Arts in Community Music Program.

(That was completely unexpected)

Thank you for my André,

for inspiring me to apply for school 

and seeing me through the application process.

(That was completely expected)

Thank you for granting 

André's

architecture license 

on my birthday.

That was one of the best birthday gifts!

(especially after many birthdays of working hard towards this together)

Thank you for granting me my 39th year on this earth.

(After cheating death many times,

I couldn't see anything in my life past 30.)

Thank you for surrounding me

with incredible 

friends (old & new), family & animals

that support me in so many different ways.

(I'm beyond blessed in this area)

Teaser for my next blogpost. 

With much Love & Desire

to give back,

Daisy

Architecture Throwback & Forward Again

In 2004 we had two kids, boys, 2yrs. old & a 1yr. old.

André was in his 4th year of Architecture at the 

University of Waterloo, School of Architecture.

There's a Rome term during the 4th year of studying architecture.

We were barely scraping by as students, with two children, while in school but André's professors encouraged André to go to Rome. This incredible school supported us every step of the way. Professors advised André to gather money from all possible resources - savings, loans, family, etc. They encouraged us to make the sacrifices needed to go and partake of the 
invaluable education that was the Rome term.

We begged our families to support us. 

Our families helped us get to Rome. 

They were hesitant, as it was a significant sacrifice on their part but they did it.

We made it to Rome because of our incredibly supportive and trusting family.

Rome changed our lives forever.

History came alive. Ruins told stories of people, their lives and their communities. Layers of life lessons, both individual and collective, gushed out through the study of architecture within the layers of new buildings growing out of the old. 

Rome was a cultural feast.

We drank deeply from it's historical waters.

We played where the Romans played,

We walked where the Romans walked.

Our family changed forever in this historical playground.

Today, we reap the rewards of such a rich education and personal sacrifice. André has completed his architectural exams and as of February, has successfully passed each of the intensive exams.

He has achieved his goal of becoming an architect but we know that it didn't happen without the support and sacrifice of many people along the way.

This is part of why we love community.

We know what community has done for our family 

and we're determined to pay it forward.

This weekend André will be hosting another Jane's Walk in Uptown Waterloo.

This year's Jane's Walk will be dedicated to Leejay Levene, an aspiring architect, who tragically lost his life during a routine wisdom teeth extraction. Leejay was only 18 yrs. old and was on his way to the 

University of Toronto school of architecture. 

I have no doubt that he would've been a successful student and architect.

How do I know?

You can see it in his art - 

which will be on display at the Central Library Art Gallery 

from May 7th to May 27th, 2015.

All proceeds from sales of Leejay's Art & $10.00 calendar will benefit the Kitchener Public Library's future "Teen Tech Livingroom" at the Central library.

How else do I know that Leejay would've been a successful architect?

Look at his incredibly supportive family & friends.  

Like Rome, they continue to build on the successes & tragedies of the past.

Polski

These are *not* doughnut holes. Not even close! Read on!

People used to ask me if "Daisy" was my nickname. Nope. That's my true blue, through and through bona fide birth-given name. My Mum's highschool friend was named Daisy and she looooooved her friend's name and wanted this name for me. 

I've had few nicknames throughout my life but a good friend, who wanted to highlight my Polish heritage, would call me "Polski".

"Polski" made sense.

My last name (at the time) was Podeszwa (pronounced POh-dEz-wAh in English. pronounced POh-dEsh-vAh in Polish). 

I loved my last name. It took me awhile to love it. Growing up, on the first day of school, I would sit with my head down on my desk, filled with anxiety, while the teacher went down the class list:

Sarah Adams? "here!"....Karen Brown? "here!" Jason MacDonald? "here!"....Daisy Po...Po...Po-desk...Po-zed...Po-zzzzwah (in my younger years, roars of laughter would erupt from the class depending on the phoenetic acrobatics that would come out of the teacher's jumbled mouth) "PODESZWA!" I would call to help out. The teacher would stick to "Daisy" and quickly move on.

Growing up I was told that "Podeszwa" meant "heel of the shoe". Our close teenage friends would bug us saying that's why my brother's and my teenage feet stunk so bad. Hahahaha! Good times!

I wasn't sure if the translation to English of Podeszwa was really true, so, I just googled "Podeszwa" to see what I would find. I cried from laughing SO hard! In "google images", there's a seemingly endless supply of pictures of the bottom of shoes or heels of fancy shoes/boots. So. Many. Different. Kinds. Of. Shoes. Once again, I literally "LOL"! Try it! What images come up for your last name?

I have SO many pictures of my brothers and I working in a garden & Dad's stories of his trips to Poland, 
visiting all the farms, that this picture perfectly defines being Polish to me.
Here are the Podeszwa kids, with Dad Podeszwa, soles of our feet covered in a garden, working. 
I bet my younger brother "watered" the plants after this pic!

I also found an "English translation" on the net for "Podeszwa". Here it is: 

sole {noun} [sports]
So there were no longer shoe makers, but now there are people slapping soles on people's shoes.
sole (of the foot and of shoe) {noun}

So there you go! "Podeszwa" is the "Smith" of Poland! Funny short story: my brother married a Smith. Yup! True short story!

On Feb.12th, 2015, I popped onto Facebook. Two interesting things happened:

1. A friend of mine, who served her Mormon mission in Poland, began posting "Fat Thursday" (in Polish, Tłusty Czwartek) pictures. She smothered her Facebook page full of Pączki (Polish pastries, very much like doughnuts) pictures. My mouth was certainly watering by now and with every picture, this treat was looking very familiar. I thought I never tried this treat before but my watering mouth told me that this treat was familiar.

2. My brother's Mother-in-law, yup, the "Smith", posted a website to my brother with a photo of my Dad's older brother's gravestone on it. My brother has been gathering his family history and his Mother-in-law found the gravestone, of my Uncle that died as an infant, online. Weird! How could it be "Fat Thursday" and my Uncle's discovery day in one? I was particularly excited because I had just recently gathered information about my Uncle Charles from my Dad. I could confirm the identity of this grave stone because I had just written down my Uncle Charles' birth & death years and the cemetery that he was buried in. Everything on the site was correct. 

I then shared with my bro's Mother-in-law the story behind that stone. You see, my Dad had recently replaced his older brother's stone. I thought he replaced it because it was worn down. My Dad is 75, so that would make his brother 77. I called my Dad again and my Dad shared that he replaced the stone because "Podeszwa" was not spelled correctly (no surprise there!). Also, My Uncle's first name, Charles, was not included on the stone. My Dad did this for his older brother, the brother he had not even met. This story had always touched me. After hearing about it again recently, I was even more determined to get back to my home-town, in London, ON, to see my Uncle's new stone but here I was seeing it for the first time on the internet. A stranger had taken a picture of it and uploaded it online for this exact purpose. So that people looking for their lost loved ones, can find them online. I told my Dad that the stone for his brother was now online. I wasn't sure what he would think of that. He simply said that it was amazing. Just amazing. At the time that my Dad put this stone together, I was busy with little ones and did not have time to support him in this worthy cause. His efforts seemed to go unnoticed and unheralded. That bothered him. In fact, he wanted to be there when that stone was laid but the nuns at the cemetery had neglected to notify him of the stone's replacement. This never sat well with him but all seemed to wash away when his efforts were validated by a volunteer who took time to take that picture, upload it online and now his son, who lives on the other side of the country, and his daughter, have viewed the stone.

Many of you know that I lost my fourth baby, Isoefa Alofa. It has been six years since we lost him and I have not yet had the heart to put his stone together and placed at his grave site. I felt like the time was getting closer and this would probably be the year. When I saw my Uncle Charles' stone, I knew for sure this would be the year. I want my baby's stone to reflect my Uncle Charles' stone. I'm ready and I now look forward to this special moment. 

Through my baby's loss and the loss of my Uncle Charles, I feel closer to my Nana, my Dad's Mother. She died when I was little but I remember her very well. I feel her loss. I feel for her loss and now I feel that much closer to her.

I Love this picture of my Nana. She looks SO Polish to me.
The dress, the hat, her strong body.
Nice legs Nana!

So, when I jumped on twitter later in the day and saw this tweet from one of my favourite local European bakeries, Nougat Bakery,

Nougat Bakery @Nougat_Bakery · Feb 12

Paczki - all day long #FatThursday #delicious

 

View more photos and videos

0 replies0 retweets0 favorites

I couldn't take it any more! I called the bakery, made sure they still had Paczki (they did!), and then called my husband to pick them up on his way home from work.

My husband arrived soon after and our family sat around the table learning about Paczki (pronounced pawnch-ki). This Polish delicacy is traditionally served on Fat Thursday, the last Thursday before the Catholic Ash Wednesday, where Lent begins along with the ban of lard, sugar, eggs and fruit, until Easter. These beautifully simple ingredients are used up together to create this brilliant fruit-filled bun. I must learn how to make them. I carry all these ingredients in my home. All-the-time. Why wouldn't I? I'm Polish!

Paczki!

We tried 3 different kinds of Paczki; Rose (rose-hip jam.lovely!), Raspberry and Advocat (like a boston cream but better).

The table favourite? Without a doubt, it was the raspberry. Each Paczki was beautiful and delicious and would win my dessert heart. However, the raspberry seemed to burst in our mouths with depths of flavour that perfectly complimented the fluffy pastry. It made us all wish there was more raspberry!

Raspberry Paczki.
Heaven!

For me personally, it was a rich taste of something familiar. I think my Dad has bought a cheaper version in the past or I had them as a young child with my staunchly Catholic Nana. Either way, the taste was a taste of home and on Fat Thursday, I felt closer to my Nana and my Uncle Charles. It was a special day and I thank my friend for honouring her time in Poland by posting those pictures and I thank my adopted Mother-in-law for finding Uncle Charles on Fat Thursday. It truly was a Fat Thursday - fat with the spirit of loved ones and cultural heritage. 

My Valentines Day is dedicated to my Nana Podeszwa, 

who suffered the loss of a child, 

on her own, in a strange new country where she began building 

her new home and future. My Valentines Day is also dedicated to my Uncle Charles, who I know enjoys eternal glory 

with his humble Mother and Father. 

Much Love,

your little,

Polski

 

Northern Falé

This year, 2015, will be the début

of our

"Northern Falé"

house design

Creative process, inspiration, plans, renderings, sketches 
and even "minecraft renderings" 
(c/o our children) 

will début here in 

#MyFale 

The design will be orchestrated by our 

"in-house Architect"

André Arseneault

We look forward to sharing 

with you the evolution of our 

Uptown Waterloo Home

*Update: the Northern Falé journey continues... II, III, IV, V & VI.

A Poet and Didn't Know It

I'd like you to meet my Dad.

His life has been simple but packed full of experience. Most of my life I knew he was an amateur Astronomer. My Dad doesn't have a framed University degree or College diploma hanging from his wall but has boxes of 75 years of life experience hidden somewhere from my Mum so she doesn't throw it out mistaking them as "junk".

It was my amateur astronomer Dad that introduced me to Halley's comet when I was a young child. He taught me that Miss Halley doesn't grace our skies with her presence very often and my Dad wouldn't be alive anymore the next time she comes around. However, I may still be alive to see her again as well as my children and maybe even my grandchildren would be able to catch a glimpse of her when she visits again.

That's what my Dad shared with me on that chilly night where I caught a brief look of Miss Halley's speckled tail through a fellow amateur astronomer's telescope. From my childish perspective, the fuss surrounding the event seemed greater than what I viewed through the telescope but it stuck with me. I can still see my Dad peeling over the newspaper articles of her every space move. I can almost smell the chilled air of that evening of our viewing and my Dad's excitement over the entire time period that Miss Halley visited. It's still a palpable memory, even after 28 years.

It was no surprise to me when my Dad began planning his trip to view the full eclipse of the sun that would be celebrated around Cairns, Australia in 2012. If I remember correctly, he called to ask me to help him research some information "on the line" in 2011. Why Australia, Dad? Because it was expected to be the best place in the world to catch a front row view of the eclipse - as long as they're no clouds in the sky that day. That was a risk my Dad was willing to take for this monumental event. Nothing that I said about travelling alone at his ripe age of 73 would convince him from taking a detour onto the comforts of the internet to view this eclipse. He was going to be there in person and continued making his plans and I began the prayers in my heart that there would be a clear sky for my Dad to view the solar eclipse in Port Douglas, Australia (close to Cairns).

Almost two years after his return home, Dad wanted to put together his photos of his trip in a scrap book of some kind. I told my Dad that I would be happy to make a book for him of his experience but thought that it would be nice if he could put together a summary of his trip to go along with his pictures.

I did't know what to expect when my Dad handed me the summary of his experience. I can tell you that I didn't expect to be that little girl watching Halley's comet all over again with the eyes of a mature adult that could recognize the brilliance and wisdom of my Father within his own words. My Dad!

I'm very excited to share with you the beautiful account of my Dad's trip to Port Douglas, Australia on November 14th, 2012 along 4 Mile Beach. The following account is in his own words along with photos taken with his disposable camera...

November 14th, 2012

Full Eclipse of the Sun from Port Douglas, Australia

At 3:30AM November 14th, 2012, 

I awake in my motel room. 

I start my walk to four mile beach in complete darkness 

for approximately 12-15 minutes. 

I arrive at 5:00AM. 

Many people have now gathered on the beach and 

are awaiting sunrise at 5:36am. 

First contact occurs at 5:44am.

The eastern sky is very cloudy 

the sun is only 20% visible than 

cloud moved into 60% visibility 

as the moon's shadow progressed into the sun.

As the minutes went by, 

visibility increased to 85%, 90%, 95%, 98%,

then a flash, a very bright light occurs 

and the sun is 100% covered by the moon's shadow

and we are in complete darkness for 2 minutes and 3 seconds.

Full and total eclipse of the sun has occurred.

I look up and view planet venus and some star's overhead 

- just as I had seen at 5:00am,

when it was completely dark, 

when I first arrived at the beach.

As the moon's shadow begins to leave the sun,

after 123 seconds, 

once again daylight emerges than by 6:30am or so.

It's daylight and the sun was all visible and back to normal 

as the earth traveled east and the sun rose higher into the sky.

I then walked slowly back to my motel room.

For the remainder of the day 

I was excited as the action of a stimulant on an organ of the body or of a plant.

"Just a menu on the sidewalk
in 
Port Douglas town."

"Just a minute before full eclipse of the sun."

"Full eclipse of the sun.

It's now complete darkness for a few minutes."

"Complete darkness when the moon completely 

covers the sun."

"It's now almost back to daylight after full eclipse of the sun."

Enjoy a peek of the Solar eclipse on 4 mile beach in 2012 via Youtube.

The above poses that my Dad strikes are pretty classic of his character. I now look at them with new, mature and informed eyes versus rolled eyes of annoyance or embarrassment.

I now look at my Dad in the above pictures and appropriately recall the song,

"Stayin' Alive!"

It Takes A Village

I'm obsessed with #Community.

I love community everything. Community centres, community theatre, community organizations, community parks, groups, spaces, people, food, libraries, community everything! It's SO ingrained in me how important #Community is.

Here's why:

I, Daisy Arseneault, was raised by a #Community.

I had a loving Mother and Father that needed a community to help in the raising of their family and therefore, I had the blessing of being influenced by such a wide range of wonderful people and places in my life.

Here's what my community consisted of:

My immediate Family: Mother, Father and three brothers

My Extended Family

My Neighbours

My Church

My Schools
My Libraries

My Parent's friends

Looking back, I can think of so many places and people in each category that have made an impact on my life today. I can think of how one area provided strength to me as an individual, that my parents just were unable, through no fault of their own, give to or teach me. The best thing that my parents did for me was to open the door to my community. The rest happened naturally.

Why am I so obsessed with this topic? I believe because this topic speaks to the core of who I am and where I've come from. You see, my Mum was raised in the ultimate #Community. She was raised in a tiny Village on the Island of Samoa where community is a natural way of life.

I asked my Mum what it's like to be raised in a village versus how I was raised in London, Ontario:

Mum: “My village has palm trees!”

(*I could've stopped here because clearly my Mum continued her

“village mentality” while raising us in Canada but I wanted to keep digging.*)

Me: But who raised you?

Mum: “My Mum and Dad.”

Me: O.K. Who helped to raise you?

Mum: “My older brothers and sisters.”

Me: Was there anyone else?

Mum: “Other family.”

Me: Who else lived in the village with you? Who were your neighbours?

Mum: “Lots of family like cousins and any other people in the village there, they are like family.”

(Insert Memory: Whenever my Mum introduced me to one of her childhood friends from her village, I recall having a very difficult time deciphering her friends from family that I was related too.)

Me: So, your friends were like your family?

Mum: “Of course!”

(like duh, daisy!)

Me: So, what did everyone do to help you and your family?

Mum: “They helped with the weeding, the cooking, the gardening, planting, or anything that needed to be done!”

Interesting:

The movement between family and friends is fluid in #Community.

Who doesn't need community?

I needed my community and I didn't even realize it until my community just showed up at my door.

My last blog post included an account of the personal physical struggles that I'm currently going through as my back heals from many injuries. I wrote that post purely as a reflection of how my month of February evolved and what I learned along the way. What I didn't expect and was shocked by was the immediate response of encouragement from friends and family who read my post. I thought it was kind enough to have little tweets of encouragement or Facebook posts that sincerely brightened my day. But it didn't stop there. The weekend after my post went up, a neighbour came to my door with food in his hands. Another neighbour called to help too. The next day, someone from church just showed up with more food and the offers of help with cleaning dishes and sending food have uplifted my family ever since. These acts of service didn't just relieve me of my duties in order to give my back the rest that it needed but it uplifted my children – who were compensating for what I could not do. It also lightened the burden on my husband's shoulders that he had been carrying – in addition to his current, intense workload with his job.

Beyond the immediate care that all this help has been giving me, can you imagine how this care is influencing my children first hand? They will never forget being in need and having that need fulfilled. They will always know what it feels like to be part of a loving village.

It has been a gift for me to see the wonderful village that I'm surrounded by. I have never been alone during these last three months of healing. Thank you to my friends and family for coming to #MyFale and breathing new life into my weary soul and making this bitter cold winter feel a whole lot warmer. You also played a vital role in raising my children in a way that I could not.

Thank You!

My children being raised by my husband & I and my extraordinarily talented Village

Trying to Dream...

I overheard my boys (who share a bedroom) talking to each other the other morning...

Yvon (12): "Did you hear me come in last night?"

Rémi (11): "Nope. I was asleep, trying to dream my favourite dream!...but it didn't work!"

That pretty much explains where I was this February, sleeping and trying to dream my favourite dream. What would that be? Well, when I was 16 years old, I was in a devastating car accident (that's a whole other blog post to come back to later as well!). Truly, I'm very lucky to be alive. I sustained many injuries and one was a compression fracture to my upper spine and a curve/twist to my lower spine. Over time, my spine will re-injure from daily use and it gave up on me right after Christmas. I've been on my back since then, with the hope that I would feel back to normal in February. That didn't happen. My injury was much worse than I thought and my healing extended into February which sent me into dream land. Dreaming that each day would send me a healthier back, that I would make that turn in my healing to "back to normal activity". It didn't happen. My "favourite dream" didn't happen. It still hasn't happened. So many February tears were proof that it just didn't happen.

But I learned something. Sometimes life is just like that. We're sleeping to the reality that is life and trying to dream our favourite dream instead.

I wish I thought to say to my son,

"Don't wait until you're asleep to dream your dreams Rémi, stay awake and work towards making your dreams come true!"

I believing in dreaming. The 2014 Sochi Olympics ignited new dreams in my children as dreams came true for other people's children - the Olympians! They were a mid-winter inspiration for all of us.

I've made a new dream for my back:

Stay awake and work everyday towards making my dreams come true! 

Think about what I can do instead of what I can't do. I can't return to "normal everyday activity" yet, but I can rest my back and enjoy reading to my kids the books that we have been wanting to read for a long time. I can open the opportunity for my kids to work along side of me and help me with the things I can't do. And most of all, I can listen to and watch my kids as they dream their dreams and work everyday to make them come true.

Here are a few of my kids' dreams at work:

Yvon has a gift for snowboarding - even on cheap snowboards!
He now has the 2018 Olympics in mind!

Melaia's latest adventure is creating clothing for her dolls out of scrap material around the house.

Creative Olympic dreams by Rémi

To me, this video of Rémi playing with our dog & a friend's dog, 

is the epitome of dreams at work.

Dream on,

daisy

You have Island roots when...

...your Dad installs a magical, Princessy canopy around your bed and you dreamily say...

Melaia, 8, reading Avatar in her dreamy bed. Yep! #IslandGirl!

It wasn't the reaction that I was expecting when she tested out her new bed that she had been dreaming about for months.

I felt a whole lot of Island pride as I immediately thought about my Mother telling me how she slept with a mosquito net growing up. Mosquitoes. That's a whole other blog post right there. 

For now, my #IslandGirl has zero concerns looking forward to the summer months ahead. In the meantime, her canopy seems to provide many other uses that you'll need to put your creative-cap on to fully imagine and appreciate.

Good-night, Sleep tight,
Don't let the mosquitoes bite!

Sweet dreams,

daisy