Bruce. Sexy and Available.

Bruce. 

He's pretty sexy. For a heap of deteriorating metal, rubber and leather with a splash of plastic and electronics thrown in. 

Here he sits above Tobiano and Kamloops Lake January 13, 2016 with  less than 100 km on his odometer. 

While I find him sexy in the realm of trucks, he does also intimidate me with his size and power. 

And so I shall sell him and get myself something more appropriate for my Granny lifestyle. Like a Tiguan, a Rogue or a Cherokee. Rav4's, Escapes, Crosstreks and Encores have also made my final cut of options. And I welcome your input, opinion and guidance in regard to my top 7.  Narrowly missing the cut are the Qashqai and a Lexus. 

While Lexus is slightly into the next level budget, I was willing to contemplate it if the comfort and convenience justified the extra coinage... that is until I saw what the 2019 version looked like. OMG... it's so f'ugly that I would not purchase it if it was 10 grand less than my other prospects. 

What were they thinking when they designed this front end???!!! 

But enough about the obliterated Lexus. Let's get back to Bruce.  Bruce is a Ford F350 Lariat who was built in 2015 but we purchased in 2016.  And he's not very commonplace. Most F350's have diesel engines. But not my Bruce. He is gas powered. And our reasoning for this, three years ago when we added him to our family is: Gas powered trucks in general are about 10 grand less than diesel right off the lot. And gas is 10 to 15 cents a litre cheaper than diesel and any eventual repairs are about half the cost of diesel repairs. And we didn't really need the extra towing capacity that diesel provides. 

So to sum it up, I have a gas powered  1-tonne truck for sale. Three years ago his window sticker listed him at $68,800. His current odometer reads 50,211km (31,200 miles for old school folk) In addition to what's listed on the window sticker, he has a remote start and there is a box liner. He comes with two sets of tires on rims. Those are the only options that are visibly obvious to me - there could be more) PLUS of course the DNA of my precious Albert is embedded in the seats and other areas that make Bruce invaluable.  

The original window sticker

He's a bit dusty. But I plan to have him detailed and presentable "as new."  If you are interested in taking Bruce home as part of you family, please contact me here in the comments. Or contact via PM on FaceBook or text/call me at 250 649 6986.  

Here I've listed a few comparable options out there. I had to reach out to BC, AB and ON because a  gas F350 is  actually hard to come by. 

I'd like to get $44,000 for Bruce. I think this is a really fair price, but I'm open to talk.



PS: His name is Bruce (and if you message me, I will tell you why) but he is totally open to having a name change.

Pavement and Rocks

Thirty seven. I really don't feel like I'm much older than 37, but it's been that many years since I gave up my father's ridiculously long surname to become a Ziemer.  And with that exchange of names, came an exchange of diamonds and gold. 

Our culture norm is to wear a band of gold on your finger to indicate one is married. One difficult decision, amongst a myriad of others a surviving spouse has to make, is how long to continue wearing your "I'm married" symbol of gold. 

I'm sure there are some who've immediately removed their rings and others who wear them for years. It is really a personal decision and there is no right or wrong answer. 

I have chosen today, 37 years after having those bands of gold put on my finger, to remove them for the final time and put them back into the sage green velvet box from whence they came. 

I cry because of what this means for me. And then I chuckle as I can hear my Albie say to me, "Oh Babe, it's okay. Just wait till you get here with me again and realize you've been wearing pavement and rocks all these years." Diamonds and gold will indeed be pavement and rocks where I'm going. 

  

My interpretation of the word "commitment" during my art marathon of 2018

On this day, ten years ago, I also blogged about my wedding rings and give an explanation of the diamonds and gold bands in my right earlobe. (Which, incidentally, are still there.) 

Not sure when they will get tucked into their little white leather box 

When Sadness Comes On Top of Sadness

For ten years Vivian Lake was our special place. It wasn't our 'getaway,' it was more of a feeling of 'coming home' when we were out there. A simpler life. One of cooking over a fire, peeing in a pail and being entertained by watching the sun go down. All with a side of music on the iPhone and occasional Facebook log-ins to keep us connected with reality. And crowned with wine. Too much wine usually.

Of course we had no idea that our last weekend out at the cabin, October 13th, would be our last weekend out at the cabin.

My intentions were to keep the cabin. To hang out there. Spend some time grieving and saying goodbye and just soaking in the atmosphere. To be honest, I don't know how much time I'd actually spend there but I just know I'd like some time for closure.

But sometimes sadness comes on top of sadness.

The landlords have decided it's not in the best interest of their own family to open any of the resort property this year. So I need to have the cabin cleaned out and trailer removed by the May Long. (Of course this will be weather dependant and they will graciously work with that if it's a long winter/spring) I, personally, am hoping and praying for an early spring so I can have a couple of weeks with the snow gone and ice off the water. I really feel like I need some time there.

I've known for two and half weeks, but couldn't bring myself to talk about it before this weekend. It's like a whole 'nother dimension of grief for me. But in the spirit of gratitude, I'm glad I have four months to process it all in my mind before moving day arrives.

Just looking at photos conjures up the smells and sounds and feelings of overall wellness that fill my heart. 

To be fair, I must acknowledge that I hold no ill will or bad feelings to the property owners, they are completely entitled to make decisions that are best for their own lives/family. I am truly grateful for the time we had.

For all that was...

Today was a day I've known was coming but I wasn't really looking forward to. And while it was hard, it was also kinda therapeutic. 

It was official "Closet-clean Day."

I didn't really intend for it to be closet day today. It just sort of happened. It all started when I hauled all my swimwear out to try on and narrow down which ones would be coming to Maui with me next month. I am determined to pack about 25% of what I overpacked last time. (Mostly because I won't have Albert's suitcase to pack half my crap in.)

I got piles of stuff out of my side of the closet and had no idea how I was going to stuff it all back in, when I had the bright idea that if I cleaned out A's side of the closets I could spread out a little and it would look like I owned less stuff. And so began my day... 

I'd already given bags of t-shirts, jeans and socks to the boys but his closet was still full. And it wasn't all clothes. Oh the papers I sorted today. 

Now, I would defy you to recall a time in past 37 years when I have trash-talked my husband. It's something I just didn't do. And I still won't. But Oh.Em.Gee.  He was a bit of a hoarder. I admit some of it stems from the fact that he was considerably more sentimental than I am.  However, I did find myself being somewhat sentimental today as I sorted through every birthday card I ever gave him. Every little coupon book the kids made for him in elementary school - I think I'll cash in on the bazillion free carwashes and special suppers that were promised and never taken to task.  Some are quite hilarious: 

Free meal from Brandi - draws a turkey and offers 'bacon on bread'.  :) 

Jed will not whine, nor will he pick his scabs.

Ken will... well... he will wash the truck, what else could it mean? 

I found little notes he typed to me on an old ribbon-style typewriter we had back in the 80's. "HappLianaversary Babe. Forgot to tell you I took tonight off. Gone logging." was my favourite. I actually remember finding that note on the counter early on the morning of January 23, 1987 after I woke up and discovered he had come home from working 12 hours at the mill then headed off to the 90 acres we had at the time and were in the midst of logging the trees off.  

I found a stash of old Compact Flash cards and 3 1/2" floppy disks that, thank God, I do not even have a means to view. But I know they are from our original digital camera from over 20 years ago. And I know what's on them. 

He had a pile of every single Canfor pay stub since they started direct deposit in 2003. Yes. Every.Single.One. I didn't actually count them, but there are 390 pay days in 15 years. 

Have you ever wondered what 15 years of pay stubs looks like? 

There are CD's. Oh, there are CD's.  Boxes and boxes of CD's. Who knew Chris Tomlin had 945 CDs? I've got 'em all. He did digify (that's not a word, but it should be) them all onto a mem-stick. I'll keep the mem-stick but the CDs have to go. 

Albert rarely wore shorts. He owned about 42 pair. About half still have the tags on them. I'm fairly confident he didn't actually purchase a single pair, so I kinda have to take some blame here. 

And "Canada" t-shirts. Again, I take responsibility for every single purchase. But, my goodness.... 

So today was a bit overwhelming. It was hard. But it was good. Gosh, I have had a good life and I owe pretty much all of it to the amazing man that God saw fit to partner me with. I am so very grateful for all that was. For all that is. For all that is still to come.  

Gratitude and Attitude.

January 15th??! How'd we get here already.

I was off to such a flying start, blogging 3 days in a row, finding things to be grateful for each day and generally feeling kinda smug that 2019 was not going to take me down. But take me down, it did.

Oh my goodness. I have definitely been sicker in my life, but I don't ever recall being down and out for 11 days like that. Each day I'd lay in bed and think, "Ok, maybe today I will get dressed." And then I'd walk from the bed to the toilet to pee (less than 4 steps) and I'd need a nap.

I wore my Apple watch in bed because it took less energy to look at my wrist than to actually lift up my phone to see the time or read a text. I fell short of the ideal 10,000 steps every single day. (Ok, no surprise here as the only time I actually reached 10,000 was the day, before I got sick, that I shook 1.5 litres of whipping cream into butter and my watch thought I was walking)

One day I reached a grand total of 143 steps. And I attributed about half of those to coughing.

So, I may have lost the first 2 weeks of the year, but I'm ready to face the next 50 with gratitude and attitude.

So grateful to spend a couple of hours after school today with X&M and their Mommy. And even Daddy stopped in after work for a bit. Two weeks is a long time without snuggles in the life of a Granny. And the day topped off with a FaceTime visit with the girlies as well.  My heart is full.

Becoming Unmarried

Today has not been a good day for me on a number of levels, I'm hoping a rant is helpful.

Bruce will be looking for a new forever home. Pm for details :) 

Three years ago next week Bruce came into our lives. Bruce is a Ford F350 Lariat we bought in Kamloops. (Doesn't everyone name their vehicles?) And he is beautiful.

When we were doing the paperwork the salesmen suggested both our names go on the registration. "You know, just in case..." he said, "It makes things easier."

And I've gratefully acknowledged his foresight over the last few weeks.

The insurance is due next week and I didn't feel like doing much else today so I thought I'd take a 1/2 hour and run get that done.

I armed  myself with the papers from the truck, the renewal notices, my driver's licence, Albert's driver's licence, marriage certificate, the will, death certificate and even the truck keys. I expected it would be a fairly straightforward procedure, but I'm learning to be over prepared.

Turns out it's a 90 minute procedure.

Apparently they can't just change the name on the paperwork. Even though I am an equally registered owner, the current policy and registration needed to be cancelled and rewritten. I need to hand in the plates that are on the truck because there is 7 days valid insurance left on them. (But no, there will be no refund issued for those 7 days that cost $5 each to insure) The plates were the one damn thing I didn't take with me.

After a ton of rigamarole involving two insurance agents, and phoning head offices and even Kamloops, where the truck was originally insured 3 years ago, 90 minutes later he quotes me a final cost to insure.  He graciously offered to finish up the paperwork without the plates but I would need to go home and get them and drop them off.

We head over to the pay station and the total on the MasterCard machine is about $300 more than the quote, so I questioned this.

"Oh yes, that quote was for the insurance portion. Then there's the transfer fee, one registration cost, licensing fee and charge for new plates."

WTF? I just had to pay $300 to register and transfer a vehicle I ALREADY FRICKING OWNED!! I'm actually shocked they didn't try to make me pay PST & GST.

Had I known, I would have just re-insured as is and swapped the transfer papers in the spring when I sell it and let the new owner pay the fees. Live 'n learn as they say. It's really no wonder people lie and cheat when they make ICBC claims.

As I put my credit card away and gathered up my papers and new plates, the young man reminded me to return the old plates, preferably today.
"Yes, I will get them," I responded, then added, "as soon as it's convenient." Which I don't see ever happening.

During my hour and a half ordeal, one of the insurance agents was talking with another at the next desk over complaining that she had to find her marriage certificate in order to finalize her divorce.
"I mean really," she said, "How difficult can it be to become unmarried?"

"Well, honey. C'mon over here a lemme tell ya..."



Oh yeah, I'm supposed end on a note of gratefulness. At this point, I'm just grateful this day is nearly over.

Sleep Training

Sleep Training. I'd never even heard of it until a little over a year ago when my youngest grandgirlie got sleep trained.

I don't exactly know what happens in training, but from about six months old, Daphne is in bed at 6:30 and she basically waves to you and rolls over and goes to sleep.  And you don't hear from her until you go in to get her at whatever time. Seriously. She usually wakes sometime between 6:30 and 7:30 but you  don't hear a peep from her until you go get her. She just lays there entertaining herself quietly.

It's odd how grief is capable of presenting itself in all manner of ways. Sometimes it's like a freight train you see coming but powerless to stop it. It just plows you down and rolls its boxcars over you clickety clack, clickety clack, clickety clack.

Other times you're just floating along minding your own business and it sneaks up on you in the form an "add washer fluid" icon on your dash. It devastated me. I knew neither whether I even owned any nor how to add it. Instead I went and got my oil changed because I knew they'd top it up.

I know, you might think it's sad that I'm so clueless, but we had our roles. He didn't know how to make spaghetti or iron a shirt.

But he did open the pickles. Twice now I've cried over jars of pickles tormenting me by refusing to release their grip on their lids. Baby dills and asparagus.

This arrived today from Amazon:

It even has an arrow to remind you what way to turn it.  

I'm sure every grieving spouse has their own list of things that they find difficult to adjust to. Sleeping alone topping the list for many. For many years Albert worked straight nightshift at the pulp mill and was gone 5pm to 6am. I slept alone more than a 1/3 of the time so this is not something that is a huge adjustment for me. This doesn't make it any less horrible, it just means I get to bypass the phase of being nervous and learning how warm up my own cold feet, because I've already got that experience.

So, I say I'd never heard of sleep training, but in fact I was in sleep training for quite a number of years.

And for that I am grateful.

New Reality

They often say that Christmas, or other special days, can be extremely difficult when they come soon after you lose someone. And to be sure, there were some difficult things. But I have to say that I welcomed the distraction. 

It wasn't particularly a distraction from grieving, but rather something to focus on to fill the emptiness that has potential to swallow you up. 

Yesterday I packed up Christmas.

So with my distraction tucked away in boxes in the basement, and the kids all gone back to their respective homes, sh!t gets real now. 

It feels like today, January 2nd, is the first day of my new reality. Even though my old reality ended five weeks ago. 

I don't really know what life will look like a week from now, a month from now, a year from now. But for today I will put one foot in front of the other and begin to walk it out. 

I think I'll start by trying to resurrect the blog a bit. I'll do it mostly as a therapy for me and for my own record keeping. I don't plan to share a daily link on Facebook (but we'll see how exhibitionistic I get) but you are free to follow along, dropping in and out as you see fit. 

Two goals, or rather determinations, I have for my new reality are that I want to try to be intentionally grateful each day for something. Anything. Some days this may be something as grandiose as heaven itself, and other days it may simply be wine. 

And speaking of wine, my second determination is to try (notice my casual insertion of the word 'try' which sort of gives me an out) not to drink alone because, well just because, it can lead to places I don't want to go.  So, if you think I'm deserving of a glass... c'mon over. 

Now, on with my new reality. 

I'll start by throwing in a load of laundry and washing the kitchen floor. It seems there really is nothing new under the sun after all. 



Today's gratitude item: I have the flexibility to change my mind. Just as I'm about to hit enter on this submission, the kidlets texted to see if they could come over. I'll throw the laundry in, but the floor washing gets punted.