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.