Cups or glasses?

 English is weird. 

Well, I suppose it must just be colloquial, not necessarily 'English.'  But here in Western Canada the term 'cups' and 'glasses' is often interchangeable.  

I'm feeling bloggy again today ... twice within three days. Sometimes I blog twice in a year. 

Today I had a big paint party workshop out at Ness Lake for a ladies retreat. 

I've been doing paint parties for almost 15 years now. 

Truth be told, I still feel somewhat like an imposter as an artist, and it still blows my mind that I would be one to stand in front of a roomful of people instructing them in anything.  

But here I am. 

In the early days, classes of 4-8 were all I could handle. 

These days if a class is less than 15, I consider it small and intimate. 

Today was a group of 20. 

I'd be lying if I said I no longer get nervous before a class. But honestly the thing that stresses me most is forgetting something. 

Today I packed my supply bags out to the garage and set them behind my car and went back into the house to brew a coffee before heading off. 

As the coffee was brewing I had slight panic attack. Well not really panic, but a clear sensing of "Cups. did you pack cups?" (For a paint party we need cups for water to clean brushes and make paint puddles.) Probably not the most imperative thing to bring, but necessary none-the-less. 

Maybe I should just throw in a sleeve red solo cups to be sure. So I did. 

As I was loading the bags into the back of the car, I saw that there was a sleeve of my regular water cups in the bag. Oh well, I guess I have extra cups. 

Then as I was climbing into the driver's seat, my "cups" warning turned into a "glasses" warning. I had cups. But do I have glasses? 

I knew I always have a pair of 'readers' in my purse. And they can work for paint parties, but with readers I am always taking them on and off. It's not ideal. It's better to have a pair of prescription glasses that I can leave on my face. 

I ran back into the house and grabbed a pair of prescription glasses while having the weird thought, "Cups and glasses can mean the same thing. I was stressed about not having cups, but it was glasses I needed." 

And off to the party I went. 

I put my prescription glasses on and taught the class. (While my favourite red framed reading glasses sat docile in my purse.)

During class, a woman came up to me in a panic. "I just sat on my glasses and broke them. Do you have any sort of glue to fix them? They are just Costco readers, but I cannot read or observe any other seminars this. weekend without them." 

We tried using sticky dots and masking tape to repair her glasses. Nope. Not gonna happen, 

Ahh, yes. I am wearing my prescription glasses and I have a pair of readers in my purse. 

She was overwhelmed as I insisted she take my red-framed readers. Now she could fully engage in her remaining sessions of the retreat weekend.  

Had I not ran back for my prescription glasses I could not have offered her my readers. 

Cups? Glasses? 

I had a slight initial misinterpretation, but translating "cups" into "glasses" worked out to be the solution. 

Waving a White Towel

"Mom, I'm heading out on the road with West Coast Amusements next summer." 

I heard this pretty much every August since 2008, when Jed started picking up a weekend of work with WCA here in Prince George at the Exhibition.  I would just smile and nod, because I have learned to pick my fights.  

I remember the very first time he came home after a day at the fair grounds and told me he had just spent the day operating rides. I darn near had a heart attack. And offered up a prayer of safety for all children near and far. 

And with very few summers off, every August when the fair came to town Jed would show up in his work boots on Tuesday and come home with a bag of cash on Sunday.  

In the fall of 2022 he began in earnest to pursue the thought of heading out on the road with WCA come spring. 

Rather than continue to fight it I decided to just let him try it out.  I even contacted a relative who had worked for years with WCA. 

"It's effing brutal," her short answer. 

Jim and I made bets.  I can't remember which one of us said he'd be home in three weeks. The other gave him two. 

And on March 8, 2023 we dropped him and his sleeping bag off in Chilliwack in the middle of the WCA parking lot under a cloud of marijuana smoke and surrounded by a motley crew. 

Oh dear Jesus... 

And the next thing we knew we were back in Chilliwack to pick him up at the end of the season in October.  And Jed had seen much of BC, the Island, Alberta and even Saskatchewan. 

He earned many thousands of dollars. And came home with a grand total of 17.  Yes. Seventeen dollars. 

"Oh that must have been a nice break for you," I heard from many people. 

Yeah, no.  It was still a full time job for me dealing with his housing and rent, disability pension, social workers, the what-ifs, and the shock of some of the stories he'd tell me of being on the road. Details no mother wants to hear. 

It was much safer to just bury my head and imagine horrible things that might happen, while pretending they wouldn't: drugs, alcohol, vaping, casinos, clubs, lap dances, losing money, giving money away, paying other people's phone bills, and all sorts of other wild imaginings. Some I never dreamed of... until he told me the details of. And praying all the while, "Please God, for the love of all things holy, please, please do not let him make a baby." 

So no, it wasn't a break for Mama. 

Jed however, loved his life as a carny and couldn't wait to go back.  

And he did.  For another two and a half seasons. Until his poor decisions started to catch up with him.  And after a couple of months on the road, this year he was asked to go home and "get his head together" and he would be welcome to come back next year in the spring of 2026.  (That's the short story.) 

However, "getting your head together" isn't easy when the job you love has been taken away from you and you really don't like where you live, and you yearn for independence. 

Each year, coming back to his Community Home Share home after his months of independence on the road got harder and harder on his mental health. And consequently my mental heath.  😊

But Jed is nothing, if not determined.  On May 8th he decided he no longer drinks alcohol. And to my knowledge he hasn't since. 

He also determined he was leaving Prince George.  

And with zero help or encouragement from his mother or sister, (quite the opposite, in fact) in August he bought himself an e-scooter (that's a whole 'nother story in itself) loaded it onto the BC Bus and headed off to Osoyoos to meet a couple of girls he used to work with at WCA. 

Almost a whole book can be written about that seven days in the life of Jed. But a week later, after a couple of nights alone on the streets of Vancouver (Again, a whole book could probably be written about how his week in Osoyoos ended up on the streets of Vancouver) he arrived back in PG determined to give his notice at his Community Home. 

He was moving to Osoyoos.  

Probably just about the furthest town in BC he could go to get away from his mother. 

Where he knows almost nobody.  Save for three WCA employees, whom I had never met. Or even heard of before August for that matter.

Mama just threw up her hands clutching a white towel. 

And on September 26th, Sarah, Brandi and their two dogs arrived in my driveway to cram him and all of his belongs into their vehicle. And off he went to live in their basement suite without so much as a look back in the rearview mirror.

And on the first of October, I gave official notice to the home he has lived in for ten-and-a-half years.

He phones and FaceTimes me anywhere from 5 to 15 times a day. He takes me grocery shopping. He shows me the beach. He has me check his meatloaf for doneness. 

But he is happy. And vibrant. And loving having his own kitchen space. 

He gets up in the morning and makes himself breakfast before throwing in a load of laundry and having a shower, and then heading off to work. How many miracles can one sentence contain? 

Heading off to work...

He had been gone from 'home' for less than two weeks when he found himself a full time job working at SaveOn Foods. 

And he gets to wear a uniform. 

Tomorrow I will go to Devin's house for the final time and clean out his room. 

And I stand here, from afar, waving my white towel and cheering him on. 

Is there anything better than a job with a uniform. 

 

You Get What You Pay for it Seems

In 2018 I bought myself a birthday present. I don't know that I had ever done that before...or since. 

Oh for sure I had, and have since, picked out things and gave strong hints bordering on commands as to what I would like. 

I may even have on occasion wrapped said gifts for the generous giver.  

But that year I lived alone and had no one to give hints and requests to. And no one to rein me in. 

And Opus Art Supplies had Daniel Smith professional watercolour paints on sale. 

I bought a 28-pan palette from Amazon and ordered 28 tubes of paint from Opus to fill them. 

Tubes of paint are priced according to the colour. Not that the prettiness of a colour determines its value; prices are based on the minerals used to make each colour. 

Regular price for 15ml tubes of professional paint range from $20-$30 each. It was a big investment. 

But they were on sale, I justified myself out of habit.  

I know it looks messy... but it makes pretty pictures.
And yes, that's a puppy pee pad I use for a table cloth so I can just wipe my brushes on it. 

Over the years I've had to top up the pans with fresh paint, some colours more often than others. 

This week, many of the pans were getting low on colour and looking kinda messy. I felt the need to clean it up a bit. - Did I tell you that on August 20th I’m gonna be a featured “Artist in the Garden” at an upcoming Farm-to-Table event at Wildflower Farm? (But that’s whole other story.)

I need a somewhat presentable palette to use while painting on display. (I cannot even believe I’m doing this. But again, that’s a whole other story) 

So tonight, mostly in an act of procrastination of doing the tasks I need to be doing, I decided to squeeze tubes of colour into my palette and top up the pans. 

You have no idea how much geeky satisfaction this task brings me. 

And joy. 

And gratitude. As I realize how justifiable it really was all those years ago to purchase professional paint.  Sure it cost nearly $500. Seven years ago.  

I used pliers to squeeze the last dregs from two of the tubes. Undersea Green and Opera Pink.  Those are the first two tubes I have emptied in all these years. Most of the rest of the tubes average about 50% remaining. 

And I paint A LOT.   I've even made up a couple of smaller travel size palettes.  

I must disclose the only reason I ran out of those two colours in particular is because I have put them on my student palettes. They are just wonderful unique colours not available in the student grade paints I use for my paint parties. (I've replaced my student paint tubes many many times) 

Anyway, I just wanted to give a shout out to Daniel Smith Extra Fine Watercolours. 

And if I've given you permission to buy yourself an over-the-top birthday present. You're Welcome. 

 

Winner Winner Chicken Dinner!

For inexplicable reasons 8, 17 and 42 have, from a very young age, been my favourite numbers. (Weirdly, I was a child when I picked these numbers but 8 was my late husband's hockey number and 17 is my current husband's hockey number and between the two of them I have been married nearly 42 years.)  But enough about that for now.

So far the year 2025 has been "Workshop" year for me.  I literally have lost count of how many workshops, lives, tutorials, challenges and classes I have already participated in during the first 85 days of the year.  Many include paint. Some include fabric - making me a wee bit regretful that I have wheedled the enormous stash of fabric I inherited from my Mama down to just 2 Rubbermaid containers. 

In my sanctified reasoning many of these workshops fall into the category of crafting, rather than art. Some are a combo of both.

It has taken many years for me to stifle my "imposter syndrome" enough to be able to call myself "An Artist."  And now, here I am an artist and reverting back to my crafting days. And though I am enjoying them, I have to admit that I sort of feel like I'm cheating on myself.  I'm not sure why. For truly both arts AND crafts are exercising the same gift of creativity.  

Anyway, let's get on with the story I came here to tell you.  (Writing is my other 'thing.' I can write, art and craft. But don't ask me to talk, sing or dance - I drew the short straw there.) 

So this morning I had a zoom call in one of the final days of a ten day creative workshop with BB Henry Arts (Go ahead and google her-  she is super creative and diverse and she does a bit of everything for everyone.) 

This was actually a FREE 10-day workshop.  Being free, and being that BB (Brooke Henry) is a pretty dynamic and talented person, led to there being over 9000 people signed up for the workshop. Yup. NINE thousand.  I was one. 

Today was the 5th of five zoom calls in the workshop. During each call Brooke usually hands out 8-10 giveaways. These include art supplies, works of art, free admission to paid membership in classes and workshops etc.  

The way these giveaways are conducted, she has her assistant do a random number generator and the first person to guess the number between one and 100 is deemed the winner. 

Today I had the zoom call running on my phone without my face in active video while I was in my studio doing other things. (I've been sort of down and out for a week with a cold and I am trying to be prepared to leave for Hawaii in 2 days and also be prepared to teach two large paint nights within 3 days when I return on April 26.) 

Shortly into the zoom call, Brooke does a giveaway.  I know from experience that with this many people in the group it usually takes nano seconds for someone to guess the correct number between one and 100. I didn't even try to get back to my phone with my wet hands to enter a guess. But I said out loud to no one, "Seventeen is my guess." 

Yup 17 was the number. Yay Sarah, or Lucy or Michelle, or whatever your name was. I was pretty stoked that you picked my number and won.  

A while later my hands were dry when the next giveaway took place so I scrambled to my phone to enter my pick. I knew I was a bit late to the game so I opted to enter "8" rather than my other favourite number of "42."  The middle of the pack numbers always get guessed first. I knew I stood a better chance by picking a low number or a high number. 

Holy Hannah! I won! I freaking won!  I am the proud new member of BB's RingDex Class, which honestly I had already been looking at paying the membership fee to join.  Woohoo!  This was after a bit of anonymity after realizing my zoom identity was "iPhone user" instead of my actual name. But I won indeed. 

This drew me into the call more intimately and I started working on a project for the class while I sat closer and paid more attention to the screen.

About 15 minutes later there as another giveaway. This one for a membership in different class. 

I was quick to respond so I entered my 'middle of the pack' favourite number. 42 

Uh yeah. I won.  

We are talking nano seconds to be the first to enter the winning number. And I'm a bit zoom challenged when it comes to making my way around a call. 

Turns out they opted to give someone else a chance. 

The second person to guess my lucky 42 was awarded the prize. I'm super happy for her.  I like my prize better. AND prize or no prize, the fact that I won makes me feel like the winner.  

There were a number of other giveaways during the call, but I opted not to enter a number knowing I wouldn't win anyway.  I wish now that I had written a number down... y'know just to play along. 

I don't remember the rest of the winning numbers.  But I'm sure I woulda called them.  

I am an artist. A crafting artist. I am a crafting artist who can do math. But I'm not mathy enough to figure the odds of the number of people picking numbers between 1 and 100 and guessing the first three numbers correct. 

Seriously.  

I did not go out and by a lottery ticket today. But you are welcome to use my numbers.   8, 17, 42.   If you need three more I would go with 3, 12 and 20.  (These are more intentional numbers for me- come for a visit if you want the 'why') 

You're welcome.  I will take a 10% tithe of your winnings.   

I'm Sexy and I Know It ...

 Who'da thunk??!? 

My film debut would be me in a swimsuit, showcasing an exercise program? 

Seriously! 

As is my usual two-to-four times a week custom from October to April, I went to aquafit at the pool today.  I usually show up about 20 to 30 minutes early and do some core work treading water before the 50 min cardio program starts. 

The cardio program started at 12:10 today.  

I entered the pool about 11:40. Another gal joined me shortly thereafter.  We were the only two there in the shallow pool. 

A few minutes later the aquafit instructor waved the two of us over. He is a super friendly guy who just started leading these classes, of mostly elderly women, at the beginning of the New Year.  He's only been in Canada, from south Asia, for about two years. 

He was quite nervous and a wee bit awkward to start with. 

But he has really come along the last 6 or 7 weeks.  He is always asking for input and opinion in his broken English.

He waved the two of us over and asked if we'd be okay if he video'd while he instructed and explained the differences between doing jumping jacks in shallow water versus deep water versus on land. This was a requirement of his becoming certified as a fitness instructor. 

I thought it weird that he would ask just us two rather than waiting for the entire class to arrive.  

We gave our "click here to accept" consent without really knowing what we were consenting to. 

Before we knew it he set up his phone camera on a tripod, the music in the entire pool shut off and he waved us over to the end of the pool. 

And the two of us were versed in the art of doing jumping jacks for about 10 minutes. 

By the time the recording was over, a dozen or so others had entered the pool wondering why the heck they were apparently late for class when they were still 5 minutes early. 

Our film debut ended right at 12:10.  

Time for class to start. 

He motioned for the class to start the warm-up jogging while he went to fire up the music playlist. 

After 15 minutes of silence throughout the complex (so the instructor's instructions could be heard on his phone camera while he recorded his two willing participant athletes) the class music started belting out... 

"I'm Sexy and I Know It " was the first song. 

Followed by Adam Levine belting out "Moves Like Jagger." 

Coincidental that these two songs were the first ones played after my swimsuit film debut? 

I think not. 

It's February Again. Already!

 

It seems every year has two New Years. 

Of course there is January 1st, the actual New Year of the Gregorian calendar. 

But September often also feels like the "New Year."  

The kids go back to school. 

The casual days of summer are winding down. 

Many clubs and churches and sports teams and groups begin a new season. 

For many years, September brought to me a pull and a longing to 'go back to school.' Not for anything in particular.  Not a yearning for high school math and PE and lockers with combination locks that haunt my nightmares even on occasion still, 40 some years later.  

I just wanna learn stuff that I want to learn.

 I do admit that the last few years that pull has been a little less intense.  I have been busy.  Busy forging a new life. A new husband. A new house. And new adventures. Surely the waning pull for schooling has nothing to do with an aging brain.  

Last September that old feeling surfaced again, and I signed up for a watercolour painting class at Studio 2880. I loved it! Much of it was stuff I knew, but I did learn some things, but mostly I loved just being scheduled every week to have to do something that I enjoyed, but didn't necessarily make time to do (outside of needing to be intentional about painting 110 Christmas cards each year.)  Happy New Year. 

8x10 Watercolour Painted at Studio 2880

Then January came. The real New Year. 

New year, new starts. 

I began signing up for classes that enticed me. 

And here it is the last day of January and I find myself registered and participating in 11 different classes, groups and clubs. All of them in the creative arts in some way or another. 

Most of them online. 

That's the problem with the online world and algorithms. All you have to do is show interest in ONE thing. And BAM! Everything that comes across your feed is more enticing than the last.  And you gotta try them all. 

So my clean, simple watercolour art studio that my new husband and new house have granted me, has suddenly become filled with acrylic paints, fabrics, papers, glues, canvases, scissors, inks a plethora of other things. 

And my Amazon delivery guys are on a first name basis. 

And I rarely emerge from my studio, except to go to the pool three or four days a week. Not so much to get a bit of bodily exercise, but to get me out of the house so I can stop by Michaels for more supplies on the way home.  

And tomorrow is February. 

And February means Opus Art Supplies daily practice month.  

Opus Daily Practice is an event I have participated in for the past eight years.  

Each day they give a prompt word and the participants create a piece of art somehow remotely connected to the word.  

For eight years, I have taken that prompt word and painted a watercolour work of art. Ok, they haven't all been 'works of art'.  Many have been experiments. But they are watercolours.  

Eight years times 28 days, and a couple of Leap Year's thrown in there. That's a LOT of paintings. In recent years I have made most of the paintings greeting card size so I could get rid of them - 8x28 equals many. (Sorry, I don't math or PE anymore). 

But tomorrow is February... 

Watch for the Opus Daily Prompts to bring out more than watercolour paintings in me this year.  

Also, I'm trying to keep up with all kinds of classes and mediums and content. So you might wonder how I connected the prompt with the image you see. 

There's a very real possibility there isn't much connection at all between the daily word and the art. But I will post some form of art each day in February. You can use your imagination to make a connection...

...or just shake your head. 

Cherishing these moments until my memory fails...

I waited 30 years from giving birth to my girl until I got another princess to rule my heart. 

Maeve Liliana (L'il Liana) was dramatic in capturing my heart from her first breath in my Midwife Crisis as I delivered her unexpectedly on the floor in the back hallway, until today when  I witnessed not a child, but a young lady who is finding her way, lead her school with charm and humour and confidence in their Christmas concert at Spruceland Community School of the Arts.

Even from her early days,  she was captivating... 

To this day, I am not sure why Maeve was front and centre at her very first Christmas concert.  She was three years old at Cedar's Preschool.  

But fast forward to today. Her last Christmas concert.  She was still front and centre. 

And next year she will be in high school. How the heck did we get here!!?! 

I cannot express how proud I am of this young lady.  She was honoured with the role of MC at Spruceland Community School of the Arts Christmas concert.  This is kind of like being selected as validictorian of a graduating class.  

Oh my goodness! She rocked the roll.  Looked classy. And did the Ziemer humour proud with her jokes. Groans were heard throughout the auditorium.  Papa would be so proud of his influence. 

 

Papa was her date at her very first Christmas concert when Xander was 3 in Cedar's Preschool. 

Tonight, Maeve and her friend Cadence were so amazing as they set the pace for the performances. 

Her class performance was so much fun! 

 

The final performance is always a crammed event that includes all of the students from the school singing a song which they have included the lyrics to in the program so everyone in attendance can sing along, 

And sing along we did. Even her brother, who skipped his afternoon grade 10 classes to attend his sister's final Christmas concert. 

Oh my goodness! Granny's heart was so blessed to watch Maeve in her final elementary school Christmas concert  while sitting next to her brother, literally belting out a song at the top of his lungs.  I was so into the moment I didn't catch a video until the dying seconds. 

This young man has been a part of some of my favourite moments. 

This little boy has been a part of so many of my favourite moments.  Circa 2012. 

But I will cherish these moments as long as I live.  Or until my memory fails and I lean on Facebook to pop up with an "On this day" moment and I can relive this blog.