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. 

Sadness Redeemed.

 November 11th. Remembrance Day here in Canada.

And remember I do, each and every year. 

I appreciate and honour every person who has supported, fought for, and defended our country, and brought peace and healing to the nations. But I remember more than that on November 11th. 

It was on this day in 1985 that death entered my world in a big way for the first time.  As a 20-year-old mother, my five month old son was suddenly and shockingly ripped from my life. 

(In 2011 I was taking an online writing course in which I had to write a memoir with the theme "Funeral." You can read that piece HERE. )

Today, 39 years later, I lay in bed  "lallygagging" and drinking coffee, as is our usual morning custom. Being that it is November 11 I was a little more contemplative than normal. 

I considered all the loss I have endured in my life. There has been a lot. 

My most recent heart wrenching loss was my diamond tennis bracelet that Jim bought me after I said, "I don't want a diamond engagement ring. I just want a three-stranded wedding ring that will speak for itself representing Ecclesiastes 4:12. "A three stranded cord is not easily broken." 

About a month ago I realized my tennis bracelet was missing. 

My heart cried. My stomach wanted to vomit. 

I retraced my steps and contacted all the places I thought I might have been. 

No success in recovering my diamonds. 

I prayed.  "Jesus, you KNOW where these diamonds are. Please, I beg of you, just tell me." 

All I heard was "Pocket." 

I searched every pocket of every pair of pants and every jacket that I own. Even those I haven't worn for months. 

Jim and I both scoured my art studio top to bottom. He cleaned my car. (that in itself was almost worth a $3200 bracelet.) The couch cushions were investigated. We even looked under mattresses and in the "pockets" of any fitted sheets. No go. 

I decided to just leave it be. 

Perhaps one day, when least expected, it would show up.

Maybe next July when my friends Gaylene and Tom return after an extended time in Hawaii, and then relocate to Squamish, will unpack their boxes and find my bracelet had dropped into one of their boxes while I helped them pack. 

I also imagined that maybe somewhere, someone in a desperate situation found my bracelet and acknowledged the diamonds as a gift from God. 

I lay this morning, on Remembrance Day, sipping coffee, scrolling my phone for memories, seeing baby Ben, seeing photos of Albert's health failing in 2018,  and remembering... 

I've had extreme loss...

But I cannot consider my extreme losses without also acknowledging my extreme blessings. 

God has been faithful. 

I got out of bed this morning juxtaposed with my losses and blessings.

I acknowledge my devastating losses.

I am so grateful for my here-and-now blessings.  

One of my daily blessings is our incredible walk-in shower. 

After my shower today I proceeded to empty my travel bag. I needed my blow dryer and eyeliner. 

We had travelled to Burns Lake to visit dear friends this weekend. 

I opened the "pocket" in the travel bag. 

The sparkle that caught my eye was intoxicating. 

There in the bottom of the pocket of our utility bag lay my diamonds! 

HALLEJULAH!     

One month ago I had obviously dropped them into that pocket when we travelled to Chilliwack and Kamloops  while picking up Jed after his summer away working. 

My day of sadness has been redeemed! 

I won the 50/50! 50..50...50.....

 Have you heard of the 50-hanger challenge? 

The challenge is to purge your closet and empty 50 hangers.  

You still win the challenge even if half the items come from a drawer or a pile on the floor.  And a pair of socks can count as two items if you get desperate. 

And don't feel guilty if your hubby's hideous 90's sweater makes its way into the pile. 

I have been wanting to participate in this challenge for a while now. And today's cool cloudy weather dictated that today was the day. 

I want to say I am proud. However, the truth is, I am a little bit embarrassed to say I spanked this challenge! 

I did not need to pilfer from Jim's closet. 

I did not need to count drawer items. 

I emptied pretty much exactly 50 hangers from my closet. 

On a roll, I started on the drawers...

I lost count at 50 items. 

And pairs of socks counted as one. 

I'm fairly confident I may have come close to doubling fifty.

I was feeling so successful! 

So I moved on to the bathroom. Surely I could find 50 items of clutter to dispose of: 

Nearly-empty bottles of lotion, hair products and make up. 

Horribly stained face cloths. 

Eyeshadow that, I know without a doubt, I purchased more than 15 years ago. (Not sure how that even made the move to this house three-and-a-half years ago.) 

Outdated vitamins. 

Random strips of used magnetic eyelashes. 

Bobby pins that were stretched beyond use. And I don't even use bobby pins. 

Thumb tacks.  Actual thumb tacks, not push pins. What the...?!  I had 6 or 8 thumb tacks thrown in my vanity drawer. NO idea why. 

Keys. I had keys stashed in my make up drawer that I am sure fit the ignition of one of Jed's many long abandoned quads. 

I found a $25 Home Depot gift card that did not make it to the trash bin as the other items did. I am hoping it is still good. Even though I know I acquired it almost 10 years ago as a reward from Albert's HD credit card.  

Heck yeah! 

50 items from the hangers.

50 (Times 2) items from the drawers. 

50 items from the bathroom. 

Let's move on to shoes..... 

Gulp 

No!!! Not the shoes! 

I know that I have more than 50 pairs of footwear. 

My heart started palpitating.

I do have a lot of shoes. But I don't feel like it's too many. 

Seriously, there are FOUR seasons.  All of which need entirely different footwear here in Northern Canada. 

Perhaps I could release FIFTY shoes. 

That's only 25 pair.... 

I went to the second spare room (known as "The Kid's Room") and opened the closet where my 'spare' shoes and jackets make their home. 

I sorted. 

I tried on. 

I walked up and down the hall. 

I organized the winter collection and felt good about that. 

I 'found' a number of flip flops that, here near the end of summer, I had forgotten about. 

Some of those made the "50-to-cut" pile. 

I went out to the garage where the official "shoe wall" resides. 

I sat on the floor in front of the shoe wall. 

It smelled of stale leather and foot odour. 

Only about 8 shoes made the delete list. (That's 4 pair) 

I moved on...

I flipped through the flip flops at the front door. 

I think there are a couple pair Maeve might be able to use. 

There's a pair that are very similar to a pair that is up in the spare closet.  But I still like them.

I cannot release them. 

Oh, and there is the pair of flip flops that I distinctly remember wearing out to the flower garden last week, knowing that I was going to take this 50-thing challenge and wanting to spare them with the knowledge that "I still wear them." 

But all-in-all I feel like I SLAYED IT! 

50 hangers

50 (times 2) drawer items

50 bathroom vanity items

30 shoes (15 pair)  feels marginally like a fail. But conquering a panic attack makes up for that, I think. 

And now I sit down in my art studio typing up this blog. I simply refuse to include this room in the challenge. 

But I may include fridges, freezers and pantry one of these days. I know for certain I will find 50 food products that are nearly empty, out dated, freezer burned or we just simply will not eat. 

I took this "50" challenge and spanked it in every regard! 

I think I deserve a shopping spree.  I am pretty sure Walk Rite Shoes has their annual sandal sale on... 

 

And For That I am Grateful

The current fires in Jasper are horrible and devastating. To humans. To animals. To culture. To the western Canadian economy. 

And, at the risk of sounding a bit ego-centric and trivial, they are more than a mere inconvenience to anyone needing to travel from Central BC to Central Alberta. 

On July 21, 2024 after a brief battle with cancer, Grandma Gloria, my last remaining ancestor, was awarded eternity in Calgary. And the round trip to be there to lay her to rest was nearly a 3000km drive. 

We (Jim, Connie and I) decided to make it a circle drive and stop for the night in Kamloops to hang with Brandi, Kore and the girls before trekking through Roger's Pass and onto Calgary.  It was a treat to get an unexpected day with them. And it had been more than half a century since any of us had driven through Rogers Pass. 

Yes, we are that old. 

And the drive, even with heavy traffic including other diverted big trucks and RV's, was beautiful and enjoyable. 

And for that I am grateful.  

We opted to take the north route home, even though it was about 100km further. But I think the higher speed limits and reduced traffic probably made it a faster drive overall on the two day trip.  Even with stopping to visit David and Bobbi in Innisfail and spending the night in Grande Prairie and hanging with Coralie and Greg. 

These 'people connections' wouldn't be normal on a quick trip to Calgary, but the fires dictated our detours. 

And for that I am grateful. 

****

Grandma, being of sound mind and genuinely looking forward to eternity, took her brain tumour diagnosis, with its 3-to-6 month prognosis, with dignity and acceptance. 

And for that I am grateful. 

She organized and assigned roles for her funeral service. Chose the music, and determined which songs were forbidden, due to the involuntary sounds playing audibly and constant in her head, while the tumour pressed on the sound receptors of her brain. 

Grandma assigned two of her granddaughters to speak at her service. Neither was me. 

For that I am grateful. 

There would be no "open mic" during the service, however there was a call for all grandchildren willing, to submit a memory or a blurb to be read by a designated spokesperson. 

Write a memory and NOT have to public speak??! Pick me. I am in! 

Here is my contribution of memory and honour of my Grandma Gloria. And I didn't even have to stand in front of a crowd and say it. 

And for that I am grateful.  

****

Grandma Gloria has been my grandma since I was nine years old. And she has always just been “Grandma” to me. I never thought of her as “Grandpa’s wife” or “Mom’s stepmom.” She is just Grandma. And I love her. 

 

And for that I am grateful. 

 

I don’t think it was coincidental that the year after she married Grandpa, our customary 2-dollar bill in our birthday cards became a 5-dollar bill. That was a colossal gold mine in the eyes of a kid living in the sticks in Keefers in the early 70’s. 

 

The first time I really felt like I got to know Grandma was when they visited us in Prince George in 1979, just five years into her role as Grandma. (They may have visited before that, but I don’t remember developing a relationship in the same way as that summer.) 

 

One of the days while they were visiting, Mom, Grandma, Jennifer, me and a friend went to the mall. (I’m not sure why Connie wasn’t there, but lucky her…) My friend and I parted ways with the adults and Jen, with instructions to meet back at a certain spot at a certain time. 

 

Mom and Grandma’s shopping time was cut short when Mom got paged throughout the mall to return to Woolco, the olden days “Walmart.” 

 

Where they were greeted by Woolco security and the RCMP. 

 

I cannot even imagine my mother’s humiliation upon realizing, within the presence of her stepmom, that her child had just been busted for shoplifting. Dollar-twenty-nine nail polish. While packing $40 in babysitting money in her wallet. 

 

What I DO remember is overhearing Grandma talking to Mom.  

And if we are all being honest, especially in the early years, Grandma was a pretty stoic, rule keeping, black-and-white, good-and-bad type girl. 

 

Yet, what I overheard her say to Mom, as the RCMP released me to their care, endeared her to my heart. 

 

“It’s NOT a big deal. It’s like smoking pot. ALL kids try it.” 

 

SERIOUSLY! My Grandmother thought this was “not a big deal!”  It was 1979! 

 

Mind blown! 

 

She had no idea that she had just saved me from a grounding, or a lecture, or a belting. 

 

However, I cocked my eyebrow in slight offence. 

 

Pot smoking???!!?

 

C’mon, Grandma! I may not be above slipping a $1.29 nail polish into my pocket. But pot smoking???! I’m offended. 

 

And few months later some kid on the bus gave me a bag of pot… 

 

For the record, I hated it, and it never became a thing for me.

 

And neither did shoplifting. 

 

But I credit Grandma for treating me with dignity, even while not approving my behaviour.  

 

And for that I am grateful. 

 

And through the years, Grandma has had an innate ability to love and include, while holding fast to her morals and belief in Jesus. 

 

And her love and inclusion included my son Jed. 

 

Grandma loved all her grandchildren. 

 

But she held a special love and inclusion for Jed. 

And for that I am grateful. 

 

She knew that when he called, it’s best to just answer and say, “I am too busy right now.” Rather than endure the 47 subsequent unanswered phone calls.  

 

Grandma often said to me, “I know that Jed loves me. And I love him.”  She was so gracious. 

And for that I am grateful. 

 

The summer of 2009, in Kamloops, I got to present my grandson to my grandparents. And getting 5-generation photos was seriously a highlight of my life. 

 

Last year, in 2023, Jim and I became great-grandparents to baby Bec.  

 

If I am a Great-Granny, this makes Grandma Gloria a great-great-great Grandma. 

And she makes a really GREAT great-great-great Grandma.  

 

Everyone has heard of families that have had “that praying Grandma,” who has brought their families incalculable protection and blessing. 

 

Grandma Gloria was one of those.

 

And for that I am grateful.  

 

And now she’s gone. 

 

Who will pick up the slack? 

Visiting Grandma just 90 days before she was awarded eternity with Jesus.