I Wish You Pleasure and Contentment in 2019

There are two December traditions that for a couple of decades I have been subjecting my circle of family, friends and casual onlookers to. 

The first is early in the month when I send out hand painted (occasionally they have not been painted, but some other sort of handcrafted) Christmas cards.  

The recipient list fluctuates a bit year-to-year according to who is prevalent in my circle, and who moved and didn't leave me a forwarding address. But generally the list sits somewhere around 110 cards. It is a lot of work, but I enjoy it and usually start painting during the summer while out at the cabin. 

For the first time in nearly 20 years those cards didn't go out this year. 

Oh, they got painted. They are assembled. They sit in a stack in my closet. I simply couldn't bring myself to sign just my name on them, for "I" have been "we" all of my adult life. One of the hardest things this Christmas season was to write "Love Granny" on a stack of gifts. 

My second annual tradition is to spam everyone I know with a year-end review of our lives on Christmas Eve, New Year's Eve or New Year's Day - depending on my procrastination level. 

I ditched the cards, but think I'll try to pick up the ball and carry on with the review... 

"Happy New Year!" 

It's how most of us begin the year. 

Google defines "happy' as: Feeling or showing pleasure or contentment. 

And I have to say when 2018 was a "new" year, our home was filled with pleasure and contentment. We had just finished a major renovation to the main living space of our home and managed to move back into it, mostly finished, in time for Christmas dinner. 

We were in Kamloops the first cold and snowy week of the year to watch the girls while Brandi and Kore had a getaway to New York for their 5th anniversary. The sketchy weather (especially back east) meant a few rescheduled flights and turbulent travel, but a trip to remember for them for sure. 

Of course we had no idea on Jan 23 that our 36th anniversary would be our last anniversary. But we did it up in style and picked up McDonalds for supper. 

We coulda done it up fancy for our final anniversary. But we did it real. 

In February I participated in a daily art challenge. It was supposed to be 28 days, but I was enjoying it so much I managed to drag it out for an extra 30 days or so. 

Connie and I headed off to Texas in April for nearly two weeks of sister time. I'm pretty sure it's the only time we've ever spent time like that with just us three sisters. It was great. And even Andy survived it.  

<3 my="" sissies="" td="">

The day after I got home from Texas Albert had a little altercation with an industrial drill and ended up with a broken left hand. That had him off work until the end of June. It was kinda nice to have a couple of months where he couldn't work and we could just hang out, living on reduced income and credit cards. 

After not being removed for over 20 years, his ring was cut off. Kinda symbolic of  what was to come, I think. 

My ever helpful hubby helping the Dr fix up his hand.  

We made a couple of trips to Kamloops while Albert was off work - one of which JimE came along and helped one-armed Papa (and Daddy and Grandpa Geo) build a fancy castle playhouse for the girls. 

June was referred to as "Junuary" because it wasn't all that warm, but we got lots of cabin time in at the lake.  

Maeve, Papa's Little Boopsie Boo, graduated kindergarten. It's crazy how fast time goes. 

I don't know that I ever learned the reason, but during June there were many days that the local gas stations ran out of gas. I'm sure the reasons were political and I don't do politics, so I didn't investigate too hard. 

July saw Ken and Jade celebrating 10 years of marriage. Which also means it's been 10 years since we started hanging out at Vivian Lake. We took Xander and Maeve out there for a few days so K&J could have a few days to themselves. And like typical parents, they came and spent one of the days out there with us. :) 

In August we took Maeve and Jed away with us to attend the Keefers reunion. We managed to make it through all the mudslides in the Cache Creek area, but many others were diverted through to Little Fort and Kamloops. 

On the way home from the reunion we watched as smoke started to roll in and sock in our entire province. And for six weeks people were mostly housebound due to all the forest fires. We didn't get much lake time until after the September long weekend. August felt dull and depressing due to the smoke, even though without the fires it would have been a completely sunny month. 

We took Xander to Kamloops with us for a few days to celebrate Beatrice's fourth birthday. And we brought the girls home to PG with us for a few days while B&K attended a wedding on the Island. 

Freezing cold pitstop on the way home to PG 

A couple of days before Sept 10, when we left for a week in Alberta with JimE, Albert sort of felt like he had a bit of a stomach bug but didn't say much about it, assuming it would be gone in a day or two. 

We were excited to FINALLY be making the trip to Alberta that we'd been promising to Coralie & Greg and Al & Rachelle for a decade and a half.  

Who friggin' knew there was a castle in Alberta??!!? 

He didn't complain while we were gone, even though he really wasn't sleeping and was forcing himself to eat. And when we got home he decided to stop drinking wine for a while to see if a bit of overindulgence during the past few months while not working much was causing problems for him. 

And by the beginning of October he knew a trip to the doctor was in order. I was thinking that it might be gallbladder problems, as a lot of the symptoms lined up with that. Ok, I admit I might have been 'ostriching' and burying my head in the sand because I didn't want to consider alternatives. 

He had all the typical blood, urine and stools tests done and although things weren't totally off the charts, a lot of things were slightly elevated or low. The doctor suggested that pointed to some sort of infection in the body and sent him for a CT scan. I now suspect that he thought it was more than "some sort of infection" but as a doctor is trained not to scare the crap out of the patient and their spouse before absolutely necessary. 

On October 16th the C-bomb was dropped. Tumours too numerous to count in the liver and throughout the belly cavity (outside the organs) were deemed to be secondary cancer, so no steps could be taken until the primary source was determined. 

Over the next few days he had scopes and scans and further tests that showed further secondary tumours in the lungs and the primary tumour in the esophagus. There was no treatment available beyond prayers of desperation and preparation for the inevitable. 

While he wasn't eating much and he had some discomfort, his pain level was really minimal considering what was going on inside his body. 

He didn't sleep a lot during the night, but he spent many hours just "hanging out with Jesus." He conversed with Him. Sang with Him. And just chilled in His presence. He explained it as being almost out of body - his body was low and failing but his spirit was flying. This was a blessing for me to witness. I also saw his body failing rapidly day-by-day but I was so relieved by his peaceful demeanour. And I will be forever grateful for the minimal physical suffering he experienced. 

Albert believed beyond a shadow of doubt that God was able to heal him. Yet even in his declarations of faith and prayers of hope, he graciously accepted that that God ultimately had the final decision and he was okay with whatever the outcome. 

Wrapped in love

My faith was a little shallower. Or perhaps it was just God giving me the full time we had left to prepare myself for what was coming. But from the very first diagnosis I clearly felt Albert would not see 2019 this side of heaven. I really hate being wrong, but this is one time I prayed desperately that I was. 

But it was not to be. 

Forty three days after the bomb was dropped, my world imploded. 

And I don't have a lot more to say about the final 33 days of the year 2018. For sure, they have been filled with blessing and love from those who surround me, and for that I am very very grateful. 

But mostly they feel surreal. I am still just waiting for my beloved to get home from nightshift...

So, I wish for you a Happy New Year. 

But for me, it will take some time before "pleasure and contentment" once again become a reality. In the meantime I shall try to embrace gratitude. Gratitude for what was. Gratitude for what is. 

How to get a Kitchenaid for 20 Bucks

Kitchen Aid. Even those who don't really cook dream of owning one. But the price can be hard to justify if you know you won't use it more than a handful of times in a year.

Here's how I got mine for 20 bucks.

I bake most of my own bread and have off and on for years.  Two years ago, just before Christmas when they came on sale at Costco, I finally justified the purchase of a Kitchenaid to help me with the task.

Many stores offer great discounts on these appliances around Christmas but I opted to purchase at Costco for two reasons: it was the larger professional size which is better for bread making and you can't beat Costco's return policy should something go wrong.
(As a side note, the professional one is the 'bowl lift' style and doesn't have a tilt-head. This is bit of a pain in the arse if you ask me, but I traded that feature for the larger size. I believe you can order the smaller tilt-head style on Costco.ca)

The Costco shelf price was $379 and the sale in 2016 offered $100 off. So I paid $279 AND through the Kitchenaid website there was an additional $100 rebate during December that year. So basically, I paid $179, which I found rather easy to justify.

About 8 months later after faithfully making all our bread in the machine, I was making another batch and I may or may not have left the room for a little too long while it was kneading. I returned to find blue smoke billowing from the machine that had come to a grinding halt.  I returned it to Costco and got my $279 back. So now I have essentially been paid $100 for my troubles.

But I missed the machine and a couple of months later when they came on sale at Costco again just before Christmas I purchased another one for $299. (Damn inflation) And low and behold if Kitchenaid didn't have another $100 rebate offer to coincide.

So to keep you up with the math, I paid $279 was returned that amount, then I paid $299  but have received $100 back twice, so total paid so far was $99.

The second machine I purchased always had a bit of a wonky switch and I had to turn the machine off and on twice to get it to come on. Totally a manufacturer's defect but I limped along with it for a year. Until this past week. And Costco had their annual Christmas sale on. However, this time the sale is only an $80 savings. So I paid $319 for a new machine, but received $299 back for the one I returned. And guess what! Kitchenaid has their annual Christmas rebate online. So yes, I get another $100 back.
Are you keeping up with the math??

Total paid to Costco: $897
Total returned from Costco: $578
Total rebates back from Kitchenaid: $300
$897-578-300= $19  Plus tax of course.

Of course I also need to factor in my Costco Executive card rebate as well as the MasterCard rebates so in reality I say it was 20 bucks, but it was probably more like free.

Feelin' sorta smug with my new machine hoping the 3rd one's the charm.

Hopefully 3rd time's the charm

His Song Has Ended But the Melody Lingers

On November 28, 2018 my world imploded.

My husband was my everything, but he also had a profound impact on everyone else in his life. And on December 8th we celebrated that impact.

I am so very grateful for the generosity of so many who helped to make Albert's celebration of life an incredible day. There were nearly 500 people there to share in the tears, love and laughter but many more were unable to be present so here is a glimpse into life of Albert for you.

Excerpt from Memorial Card at the service:

Albert graced the earth with his presence in Port Alberni on October 25, 1960. The fact that his mother weighed the same the day before he was born as she did before she got pregnant is symbolic of Albert’s nature – he was never a weight or a burden on anyone.
   As a child he was extremely shy, and as a teen he was a bit of a prankster and had the ability to gross you out like none other. 
  Throughout his life he had a quick wit and an even quicker tongue that often dripped with sarcasm. You didn’t have to know him long to realize you could not outwit, out-insult or outsmart him and it was to your favour to concede early. 
   Even in Albert’s rebellious days he had a heart of love at his core, and the gift of service to others has always be evident in his life.
  In January 1982 he and Liana were married at the ages of 21 and 17. While not exactly recommended, they proved that love and commitment are attainable at any age. 
   Albert’s proudest achievements were his children: Brandi who together with her husband Kore , gave him his “Nolly girl” and “Schmoey girl” – Beatrice and Daphne. His eldest son, Ken, and wife Jade, made him “Papa” in 2009 with the birth of his only grandson, Xander, his “Little Buddy.” They followed up with his little “Boopsie Boo” three years later with the birth of Maeve. 
   Albert & Liana’s son Jed was a gift from God who completed their family a year after their baby Ben went to heaven at the age of 5 months.
   Albert’s talents were many, and his heart was giving, and as such he blessed everyone he met in one way or another. Whether he did a job for you using one of his many physical skills, led you in worship or entertained you with his music talents, or simply offered you encouraging words with his wisdom and realness, he did it all with a side of sarcasm and humour. 
  On November 28, 2018 when a short battle with cancer hastened his journey to heaven, a large hole was left in the lives of all that he touched. 
   He was fond of saying, “Love ya deep.” And he truly did. He would be honoured if you took that love he shared with you and passed it on in intentional ways with those around you. 
  Singing was Albert’s favourite thing and we cannot even begin to imagine his current joy, as he is harmonizing with the saints and angels around the throne of God forevermore. 

Display in the foyer was an incredible reproduction of our sanctuary at the lake. 

"This do in remembrance of me" 

Great job Lucy & crew for making a mish-mash of weird items into a cohesive display

The Christmas decorations already at the church worked well 

Click Here to watch slideshow (6.5 min)

Click Here to Watch Service (1.5 hrs)

Today's unexpected blessing

Today’s unexpected blessing is brought to me by Best Buy. 

I was waiting for a prescription to be filled at Costco today and rather than just driving the 2 blocks home to wait the 45 minutes for it, I decided to walk across the parking lot to Best Buy to see what they had to offer in the way of Wacom Tablets. 

Of course, I totally already knew what they had because I’ve been googling and researching for 2 months. But let’s back up the bus a bit here….

Three and half years ago I won a $500 Wacom Intuos Pro tablet in a contest from Dave Cross at the Creative Live website. 

I’ve used a tablet rather than a mouse for many years but, prior to this, it had always been the basic hundred dollar versions. 

Now, without incriminating any of my grandchildren, a couple of months ago the pen for my tablet went missing for a few days before it was found in the grass in the backyard. And one disadvantage to the very advantageous option of having automatic sprinklers in your lawn is that when one’s Wacom pen is in the grass for 4 days it gets ‘watered’ a couple of times. 

As a result, I have been relearning to use a mouse. 

And woe is me, I’ve limped along, mouse in hand, and managed to advance multiple levels of Candy Crush and whoop some Scrabble butt over the weeks. Then a couple of weeks ago I had some graphics designing to do. That, in a typical “first world problems” way, sent me on a product investigation in a I-cannot-afford-this-but-am-not-accustomed-to-not-getting-what-I-want sort of way.

Five hundred bucks for a new one. Yikes.

For about $130 I could get a more basic version. While not exactly what I am accustomed to, I had to be honest and admit that it would probably be suffice, given that graphic design is no longer a huge part of my life. 

Fast forward to today…

I wandered over to Best Buy with about $150 cash in my pocket to “look at what they had.” Knowing full well that I would be carrying home the hundred and thirty dollar “Bamboo” version of a Wacom tablet. 

The friendly sales rep showed me the aisle where the Bamboos were after I told him I was looking to replace my Intuos tablet but wasn’t really in a position to get another “pro” version. 

They keep the Intuos Pro tablets in the next aisle over. He led me there despite me feigned resistance to affording more at this point in time.  

And here he pointed out an “Open Box” specimen of the 2018 version of the $500 tablet I was looking to replace. 

“We do have an open box version of the pro on the shelf. Someone bought it and decided it just wasn’t gonna work for them. Nothing’s wrong with it except the box has been opened and they probably installed it and used it for a week before deciding it wasn’t for them. It’s two hundred and fifty bucks.”

And instantly my brain goes into overdrive. I only have a hundred and fifty bucks cash. MasterCard has almost limitless buying power. The prescription I am waiting for is going to be completely covered by Pharmacare. I deserve this right now. I haven’t bought new shoes since, since, since … shit I don’t even remember when I last bought new shoes. My monthly wine budget has dived from … well… lots. To practically non-existent this past couple of months…

“I’ll take that lovely little puppy!” I say to the nice young boy who eagerly led me to the check-out while I whipped out my Mastercard. And turns out it rang in at $220. Practically free. 

Facebook scrabble anyone? Me and my new pen will kick your butt, or happily concede, while we bask in the clearance-clearance afterglow of an unexpected blessing. 

Consider Yourself Reminded.

Ten years.

It's been 10 years today since I was branded with that title that no-one ever wants to wear. That is until you receive it. Then you want to wear it forever. Cancer Survivor.

My breast cancer was discovered by my first-ever mammogram at the age of 43. I can confidently say that I would not have scheduled my first mammogram for at least another seven to ten years on my own initiative.

However, my family doctor who normally took a fairly natural approach to treating things, and often prescribed, "Leave it alone, it'll probably go away on it's own," far more often than he handed out prescriptions, insisted that I get the "full once-over" before he would put me on high blood pressure pills.

Although I can be a bit opinionated and somewhat harsh in my expression of such opinions, I try not to get too soap-boxy about the whole mammogram issue.

Oh, I realize it is radiation exposure and there are risks involved with that. But it was a risk I was willing to take. And quite frankly am rather glad I did. One can freak themselves right out by imagining scenarios of "What if" and "If only."

I respect that some women will weigh the pros and cons of mammography and choose not to have one done. But I also know that some women will make this choice without really weighing the options because choosing not to have a mammogram allows you to get out of subjecting the sisters the proverbial booby torture chamber. Which, I will admit, due to the jokes and comments surrounding mammography, I was terrified of before I went the first time.

However when it came right down to it, I was almost disappointed at the lack of pain and drama involved.  Yeah, you gotta flop the girls onto a cold glass table and there's a bit of pressure, but I've had more pain from an ill-fitting bra.

So while I try not get soap-boxy, I do feel it my reasonable responsibility to tell my story and encourage women to make the appointment and risk the radiation for the possible chance of early detection, and thus earlier treatment, which is generally less invasive and more successful than treating cancers that are further along.

I believe that it's a yearly radiation risk with more value than some of the other things we willingly expose ourselves to on a daily basis: cellphones, microwave ovens, smart meters - all sources of radiation that we are willing to take the risk daily for for the conveniences they provide.   And we all dance with glee at the chance to walk through a radiation chamber at the airport so we can go on a vacation.

If you choose to avoid a mammogram because you don't like the risk, then by all means don't have a mammogram. But if you, like many, don't get regular mammograms simply because you forget to book it, consider yourself reminded.

Happy October! Which is breast cancer awareness month - the month, 10 years ago, that I became more aware than I would like to be.

Maeverson Park

Why am I posting? It probably just comes down to the fact that I just feel like ranting about something.  I'm blaming it on being smoked in with all the neighbouring forest fires. Our city looks apocalyptic.

We live across the street from a city park. As kids become more and more plugged into electronics and involved in organized sports and scheduled into 'play dates', community parks are being utilized less and less.

Last year our city announced that many of the seldom used parks would have their equipment removed and they'd become empty lots. Most of the parks that were still viable would have their equipment replaced.  Ours was included in the "viable" group.  I'm sure this was due in part to the heavy use it got from the successful Daycare/Preschool that was in a house next door. The daycare has since sold the house and taken over the entire Child Development Centre.

Demolition of the park started a few weeks ago and my 9 and 6 year old grandkidlets and I were quite excited about what the "New Park" would look like.

For all of Maeve's six years she has referred to "Sanderson Park" as "Xanderson Park" because with a brother named Xander, that was only natural sounding to her wee ears and vocal ability.

When demolition began she demonstrated her unique little sense of humour and wit and said to me, "Granny, I hope when they redo the park they name it "Maeverson Park'." I'm a bit biased, but she is a witty little girl. And the park will forevermore be known as Maeverson Park around here.

Well, today around noon in a cloud of heavy smoke from all the neighbouring forest fires, Maeverson Park opened its gates to the public.  While Xander and Maeve weren't here at the time, we happen to have Beatrice and Daphne, ages 4 and 14 months, here for the week.

Off to the park we toddled.  And toddled is the right word to use here.

I've never actually heard the term "Toddler Park' before. But apparently it's a thing.

Begin rant...

What in the actual funk??!!?

Who the heck makes decisions like this? Let's rip out this lovely well used park that has a swinging bridge made of tires, a zip line, swings, twirly tunnel slide and other fun and entertaining items and replace them with a toddler park. A TODDLER PARK??/!!! WTF! Why?

I feel conflicted about bitching here, because I'm truly grateful that the city is investing money in upgrading its parks, but...

I'm trying not to entertain the idea that the decision was based on the fact that there was a daycare next door because, well, it was a private daycare and if the city created a tax-funded park for a private daycare.. well... don't get me started...

Now, on a positive note, it's cute little get-up and it is lime green and bright blue which nicely matches my newly renovated kitchen/living space colour scheme.

But...

The park itself is a good size. The equipment is wee. It would look great in someone's backyard or even a large rec room. But for a city park it qualifies as ridiculous.

It even posted a sign saying it was intended for 2 to 5 year-olds. But a lot of the stuff was too small for our 4-year-old. She looked ridiculous on the tube slide where her head was poking out the top and her feet could be seen at the bottom of the slide. Seriously. The slide is no more than 24 inches long. It's cute. But it's ridiculous.

Even the swings hang on an 8-foot frame. There's one baby swing seat and one regular swing. The regular swing is really high off the ground. This makes it convenient for a parent to push a wee one they've lifted onto the swing, but impossible for a child to get themselves onto without adult assistance. And with the short height of the swing frame and the high height of the swing seat, it makes for a very short chain and thus a less-than-exciting ride for anyone over the age of 5. Understandable, I guess, for a "toddler park." But sorely disappointing for the hundreds of kids over the age of 5 who used to frequent this park, for which the swing is THE ONLY piece of equipment they actually physically fit on in this 'new park'.

The park is certainly big enough that some sort apparatus could have been added so that all children could be included, and the park might become a destination for families with kids of all ages. But as it is, it's a lovely space for the very young, but even our 4-year-old was too large for most of the equipment.

Overall, a big 2-thumbs-down from this Granny to the city of Prince George for the super cute but super useless new park.

***End Rant***

They are pretty straight up honest about who the park is intended for. I just wish they had posted these intentions 2 years ago so the users of the park actually had some input into the production. 

Super cute little 14-month-old enjoys the equipment that her 4-year-old sister is too big for. 

It's a great funky little bench for parents... IF parents of the children of appropriate size were actually able to sit on a bench while their wee ones played on the equipment

It is bloody cute and stylish, even if useless, to most families who used to frequent the park. 

Fabulous for the 14-month old

The 4-year-old had to tuck herself to go down the 24-inch slide.  

I didn't get a great photo of the 4-year-old with her head poking out the top of the slide and her feet hanging out the  bottom. If it wasn't so sad it would be comical. 

Once again, it was lovely for the baby. 

Not so lovely for the 4-year-old. I can't imagine the disappointment my 9 and 6-year-olds will experience when they get to realize their excitement for the "New and Improved" Maeverson Park.  

A Woman's Perspective

Keefers 1974.  

I have to say I just loved the history session on Saturday evening at the Keefers 50 Year Reunion. It was great to get the different perspectives. However, I heard a bit of murmuring that there should have been a woman’s point of view.  

Had I known beforehand that Uncle Red was going to drag me up to the mic to talk about collecting photos, I may just have squeezed in a small speech on behalf of women. But speaking off-the-cuff with no preparation just ain’t in my wheelhouse. (Frankly, I don’t even know what a wheelhouse is, but speaking isn’t in mine) 

Writing, on the other hand, is something I do. And here’s what I would have written that evening, had I taken the time:

My name is Liana and I am the eldest daughter of Ed (you may have known him as Ted) & Jean deBalinhard. I don’t really qualify for giving a “woman’s perspective” of Keefers, since I was only 3 years old when our family arrived in that first group coming from Barkley Valley in 1968. Yeah, yeah, I’ll do the math for you – I’m 53 today :) 

We actually lived in Keefers at three different times and in 6 different houses which included: the Front of the Trading Post, Ed’s Cabin (I think this may be known as Harry Lafferty’s place) The cabin Davey, Chris Adams and my Dad built, which is in the yard where Ted and Elaine live, the main house of the Trading Post, a short time at “Lures” place down by the river, and finally in Brook’s House (aka the ‘red house’) We left for the final time in 1974. I was 9 years old. So I don’t really have a woman’s perspective.  

While many things have changed over the 50 years, enough remains the same that I am flooded with childhood memories anytime I visit. 

I really feel like I had a great childhood where every day was an adventure. 

I remember our first winter in Ed’s cabin, dad had made a sleigh from the hood of an old car and our pony would pull us down the trail along the flume whenever Mom and Dad decided to venture out with 4-snotty nosed toddlers. (Our youngest sister was yet to be born)

We loved playing in the old vehicles that were left parked wherever they had died in years previous to us arriving. The smell of rotten oil and old rubber to this day takes me back to Keefers in my mind.  

One day my brother Ted and I were playing with our pet chicken, Henny Penny, and pretending to give her a haircut with a large butcher knife. Cuz don’t all 4 and 5 year olds play with butcher knives?? Anyway, we literally scared the poor chicken to death. She had a heart attack right there in our hands. We ate her for dinner. 

When we were about 7 and 8, Ted and I were tasked with sending a batch of kittens off to kitty heaven by way of the Fraser River. “Be sure to tie the bag shut after adding a large rock,” we were instructed. And off we went to the river packing 3 kittens and a gunny sack. 

We somehow neglected to heed the “tie the bag shut” portion of the instructions. The burlap bag hit the water and the rock took it to the bottom of the river. The kitties floated to the top. I like to think they managed to make it to shore and some kind soul downstream gave them a good life. 

These things were all just a part of our lives. I honestly had no idea that the rest of the world didn’t live like this, without electricity, phones or running water. No idea that .22 rifles weren’t toys. No idea that most people got their chickens from a grocery store, they didn’t select one from the coop and chop its head off. No idea that other 6 year olds didn’t light the wood stove in the morning using kerosene as fire starter. 

Visiting Keefers fills my head with amazing childhood memories. But being there as an adult causes me to imagine the situation through a mama’s heart. And Oh.Em.Gee…

At first glance at our lifestyle one would think the women were meek, weak, submissive and even oppressed. And certainly religious legalism played into that, however, I have come to realize that my mother, and the other women, were anything but weak. 

I cannot even begin to imagine the hours of back breaking labour it took just to cook and clean for a large family using wood heat, even if it was 30 degrees. Hauling water. Pooping in outhouses that were NOTHING like Elaine’s. Cloth diapering babies. Canning everything because there was no refrigeration. That was after you planted, watered and weeded it for months. And all while trying to homeschool your large brood, hoping they’d turn out smart enough to forge out a better life for themselves. 

Yes, the women were anything but weak. 

I can totally envision myself in my mother’s position, handing the kids a .22 rifle and saying, “Here, go play in the Fraser River.” 

Distracted...

If you've followed my sporadic 11-year blogging venture or friended me on Facebook, you probably know I hate politics. And as a general rule I refuse to participate in debates and mudslinging and even gentle banter in regards to such.

But sometimes political scenes arise and take over social media. Frequently I just have to shake my head.  Often I unfollow people but keep them as friends.  Occasionally I actually resort to un-friending people.

But I usually remain silent.

And then every once in a while I feel compelled to comment. But that comment becomes longer than a status update. And kind of morphs into a blog. A blog that resembles folklore, legend, a parable, fiction. Call it what you will...

Distracted

There once was a big family who loved each other and lived peaceably amongst their neighbours.

One day they heard very loud barking coming from the yard of their neighbour across the back fence. The family began to dispute among themselves what ferocious breed of dog it sounded like.

They yelled, argued, fought and said hurtful things to each other (the very people they loved the most) while they tried to determine just how dangerous this dog was. They had violently differing opinions on whether they felt the neighbours were protecting, versus endangering, their own young children by owning such a ferocious sounding dog.

They spent many hours in their backyard that day damaging their own family relationships, while trying to peer through the neighbour's fence to determine the breed of dog and safety of the neighbour's children. And the sad truth was, the reality of neither factors would be changed at all, even if it were possible to beat each other into a consensus.

Later that day they went back inside their house to realize that while they had been so distracted by the rightness and wrongness of their neighbour's decisions to protect their own family, they had left their own front door open and someone came in and robbed them blind.

*****





Don't be so distracted by things you have no control over, and zero influence on, that you ruin your own relationships with people you love, and turn a blind eye to what's happening to your own property. 
🇨🇦

Something's Not Right Here

Spoiler Alert: The temperature is in the 30's and I just spent the last two hours cleaning cat sh!t out of my sand box. I'm tired and grouchy.

I'm sure there are responsible cat owners everywhere. Even in my own neighbourhood. But not in my house.

We are not pet owners because we pre-know that we just aren't the responsible pet owner type. I don't like sh!t. Not the look, the smell, the feel of picking it up... nothing about it. But with pets comes sh!t.      

Don't get me wrong, I think cats are the cutest little shedding sh!tting fur balls ever.  All of my children live with cats; I see the joy they can bring.  And when we lived on acreage with mice, I also had a cat. A spayed one with an indoor litter box and vast acreage outdoors to sh!t in without filling the neighbour's flowerbeds and children's sandboxes.

I know it's only natural and I really don't have an answer for cat owners on how to keep your cat sh!t contained to your own yard. But surely if you are a city dweller your cat can be an indoor cat or you could make it some sort of outdoor enclosure if it really must bird watch and catch butterflies. Or keep it on a leash. At the very least, buy it it's own sandbox to be kept in your own backyard so the poor creature doesn't have to wander about weaving traffic looking for someone who does indeed have a sandbox. A sandbox intended for children to play in.

As I alluded to, I have just spent 2 hours, on the hottest day of the year, raking, re-raking, and then fine-tooth combing with my gloved hands, ridiculous amounts of cat sh!it out of my sandbox. I then liberally dusted the entire area with hot tub chlorine and proceeded to wash the sand. Yes, that's right. I washed dirt.

Oh, I partially blame myself. A couple of years ago I bought fresh sand for the 3' x 12' strip along the back of the house that sits under the cover of the fabulous roof my hubby built over our back deck.  Yes. I BOUGHT sand. Even though we live in a neighbourhood built on a sandhill. Well, it's more like an anthill, but it's comprised of sand.

The sandbox had been pooped in too many times so I replaced it with lovely grainy sand I purchased at Superstore on clearance-clearance at the end of the season.

For the first couple of winters I was faithful to cover it up with landscape fabric, knowing full-well that a sandbox with a roof over it will not get the protection of 3 feet of snow to save it from sh!tting cats. I think I was too focussed on going to Maui last October to remember to winterize the sand. Never again!

So while I am partly angry at myself, I can't help but take on a bit of victim mentality here. I am the victim here. It's my sand. In my own yard. I responsibly don't own pets because I know I'm not responsible.  Yet here I am having to clean sh!t and wash dirt in stifling heat while I try to think of creative ways to protect myself from future abuse.  Something's not right here.

The Verdict is In...

I’m sure you’ve seen the posts on social media this year about a recipe claiming to be an effective mosquito repellant that you spray around the yard and it will ward off the pesky buggers for 80-90 days.

I’m a skeptic by nature, so I didn’t immediately jump on board – partially because for years I’ve been taking 100mg of vitamin B1 daily when I’m going to spend time at the cabin or in other infested areas. And for me, it really works. I rarely get bitten by mosquitoes. However, they still drive me crazy when they are buzzing around the cabin in the night, so I thought I’d give this 90-day remedy a try. (90 days is pretty much the entire summer here in the north.) 

I was especially willing to try it after I read comments from people who heard it on Paul Harvey decades ago and claim they’ve been doing it ever since. If you are too young to immediately know who Paul Harvey is, google “The Rest of the Story” and you’ll see why he sets the standard for news stories that aren’t “Fake News.” 

So I headed to the lake last week after gathering all the supplies: A spray bottle, 3 cups of Epsom salts, 1 litre of cheap blue mouthwash and 3 cans of stale beer. I’m not sure what constitutes “stale” beer, but I opened it and let it sit in a jug for 2 days. 

It took me a couple of days to figure out what the smell reminded me of. I actually really liked it – it was a memory smell for me, and it took me back to my childhood bathroom. I was thinking maybe it smelled of the Poli-dent that my Mama used to clean her removable teeth. But I think it actually smells like a blue powdered toilet bowl cleaner we used in my youth. I can totally picture it in its shaker can, but I can’t recall the name of it. But that’s irrelevant. The point is, this alleged magical compound smells pretty darn good despite its contents. 

I sprayed all around the cabin property, concentrating around the cabin door, windows and the deck. I soaked down our chairs by the fire pit and showered the trees, planters (apparently it’s not harmful to plants) and the picnic table.

We didn’t spend the night but we sat lakeside for a few hours. We really didn’t see any bugs at all. But it was pretty windy, and that usually keeps the bugs at bay, so my skeptic self gave credit to the wind and my hopeful self resisted the urge to shout far and wide the merits of my new found use for beer.

We left town for a few days and it was about a week later when we returned to the cabin for the real test. 

I wasn’t expecting to head out to the lake quite as soon as we did, and in my haste to get ready, I forgot to take my vitamin B. But, in the back of my mind, I was thinking, “Ahh well, with my magical Paul Harvey solution I may never have to pee fluorescent yellow again.” (This is a side effect of taking 100mg of vitamin B) 

It had rained a bit while we were away and I still had ½ a spray bottle of magic, so I gave the backs and bottoms of our chairs another sprinkling as added protection. 

We did some puttering around, thinned out some dead bushes and other assorted cabin-life tasks before pouring a glass of wine to sit by the fire and gaze out at the lake and bask in the blessings of our peaceful corner of paradise. 

And suddenly it was as if a helicopter was taking off from our site, with an almost deafening sound of buzzing and the air swirling violently, due both to flying insect activity and our arms flailing around in attempt to swat away the swarms of mosquitoes, no-see-ums and fish flies. 

I have.never.seen so many bugs at the lake in the six years we have had the cabin. Seriously. 

It was a beautiful windless evening, and yet by 8:30 we were hunkered down in the cabin inhaling 2 burning mosquito coils and watching the sunset through the window. 

So yeah, the verdict is in. 

I’ll be going home to freshen my breath, fill my bathtub and drink the last 3 cans of beer from the 6-pack, while I soak in Epsom salts to try get some relief from these mosquito bites, and contemplate how to get rid of the layer of white salty residue that now graces everything I own at the cabin. 

And now you know the rest of the story.  

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