But I Do Wonder...

Sometimes weird things happen. Sometimes you can shrug it off and never think of it again. Sometimes they can just stay with you for no apparent reason.

I had a dream on January 31st that wasn't scary, wasn't bizarre, and wasn't particularly out of the ordinary, except that I actually remembered it when I awoke. And it has just stayed with me. And I don't know why. Perhaps there is no 'why' and it's just magnified in my mind because our pastor at church is currently going through the book of Daniel which includes many dreams and their interpretations.

But before I go into the dream let me drone on with the pre-amble.

The first year we moved to PG I went to Shady Valley School in 6th grade in the original 3-classroom school.  Kindergarten and grade seven students went to Hart Highway School. My classroom was home to grades five and six.  Mr Bell was our teacher/principal although he took sick part way through the year and Mrs Lorenz took over the position.

I kinda felt disappointed that I wasn't a couple of years younger so I could be in the grade 3-4 class with Mrs Mary-Anne Poetsch. She was amazing. She was sarcastically hilarious. And she loved Coralie and me. Sometimes, especially on cold days, she would sneak us into her class at lunchtime so we could visit with her instead of going outside with all the others. If she heard the principal coming near she would hide us behind the giant map box until he left. We felt so privileged and special. And we loved her.

A couple of years later Coralie moved "into town" and it turned out she was just a couple of blocks from Mary-Anne and her husband Sepp's house. And she became their babysitter.

And often when she was babysitting, I would just happen to be with her.

The most memorable thing about their house was that they had a giant bottle of vodka, with a hand pump on the top of it. Seriously it was GIANT. I'm not sure how big in litres, but I recall it being about waist height for us. Maybe that's an exaggeration, but I don't think so.

This isn't exactly it, but it's similar to the giant  vodka with a pump.  

Of course we imbibed.

And whenever we did, we'd replace the stolen vodka with water to ensure the level stayed the same.

This was around 1978-80. And I also remember being so impressed as they were the first people I ever knew that had a video camera and vcr.

(Both the vodka and VCR are irrelevant to the story but interesting tidbits none-the-less)

Fast forward 25 years when I worked in the hot tub store. Sepp and Mary-Anne had a hot tub so I occasionally saw them in the store.

But that was about it for my interaction with them.

At one point I heard that Mary-Anne died. I wasn't sure of the cause.

Okay, that's it for the pre-amble.

In my dream last week, I dreamt that I was on Vancouver Island - I think just outside of Victoria. I was wandering the aisles of a rural corner store and at the far end of an aisle I saw a man whom I recognized as Sepp Poetsch. I didn't talk to him or interact in any way but I just knew it was him.

Also in the store was my sister-in-law Cindy.  I pointed out to her that Sepp was in the store, and explained where I knew him from. It was all kind of uneventful.

When I awoke, I clearly remembered the dream, but wasn't particularly moved by it.

But the morning was February 1st. The first day of the annual Opus Art Daily Practice Challenge. I eagerly jumped out of bed to check my computer to see what the first challenge of the year was. It was "Tiny."

Not to bore you with facts, but this year the challenge invited people to offer suggestions for the daily prompt. Winners receive a $100 GC to Opus Art Supplies for their entry. (And as a side note I will be getting a GC on Feb 24 :) )

Blah blah blah ...

I dreamt of Sepp Poetsch, and awoke to find the Opus prompt "Tiny" was submitted by a K. Poetsch. This is not a common surname, I don't think.

I'm not normally weirded out by co-incidences and such, but for some reason this really stood out to me.

I went to make an FB status update about it but I wasn't completely sure how to spell Poetsch. So, in typical Liana fashion, I Googled it.

The first Google entry was Mary-Anne's obituary.  And I decided an FB status wouldn't cut it, I would have to blog.

Such joy in her eyes. She was the best. 

She died of cancer on November 28, 2009. Ten years to the day before Albert.

For some reason I cannot shake this. I'm not Nebuchadnezzar not Belshazzar and I don't offer purple robes, gold chains, promotions or any other such rewards, but I do wonder....

Tomorrow is Another Day...

Splosh, glup, glup glup...

I actually googled how to verbally describe the sound of pouring wine. Apparently that's it.

I'm pretending someone is here with me, because I said I'd try not drink wine alone. But tonight is a two or three glass night. I can just tell already after only two or three sips.

I haven't been sleeping very good the past few nights. I tried an OTC sleeping pill two nights ago and it was probably the worst night of sleep I've had in a while. So last night I pulled out Albert's stash of drugs and took one of the sleeping pills they prescribed for him, but he didn't actually use because he liked laying awake with Jesus all night.

Sleep was marginally better but I still didn't feel very rested in the morning. And yes, that's even while wearing my CPAP machine.

So tonight I pull out the big guns: Cabernet Sauvignon.  We'll see how that goes.

But all-in-all today was a pretty shitty day.

It was a beautiful sunny day and we reached a high of minus 20 or so. Which actually almost felt balmy after that past few days.

The power steering went in Jade's car the other day so I gave her the Grannymobile for the week because I have Bruce, my sexy F350, who has just been sitting in the driveway for three months.

During this cold spell, I have stood in my warm kitchen and pressed the remote start button for the truck each day and he fires right up and I let him run for 10 minutes, or whatever the length of time is that the remote start leaves him running.

Even though he is sitting out there (and I haven't even bothered to plug him in) he fires right up every time.  Until today. When I actually needed to use him. AND it is 15 degrees warmer than it has been.

I had a few things to do this afternoon, so in the morning I thought I'd fire him up and get him ready for the day. I pressed the button. He honked at me. I said, "What the.." I pressed the button again. He honked again.

So, I got bundled up and went outside to physically insert the key and start him. Click. He was dead. D.E.D. dead.  (A phrase which A & I referenced regularly and I think originated in the movie "The Warriors," one of the first movies we saw together somewhere around 1980. We also often repeated "Warriors... come out to play-ee-ay" while envisioning hearing beer bottles clinking together, from the same movie - I guess it impacted us, though I really don't remember the script or plot, which isn't surprising.)

So, I did what any grieving spouse does when they can't just yell, "Albert! I need you." I cried. Dropped an f-bomb. And called JimE.  Oh my goodness. I am grateful for JimE.  Then I cried again.

So now that I've acknowledged gratefulness, let's get back to bitching shall we..

I was supposed to be at my art class (not a paint party, but a class where I actually learn things) at the Artist's Co-op at 1 pm. JimE could have had the truck going by then, but I was pretty much a basket case so I texted my friend and art buddy, Michelle, and bailed for today. And I cried again.

Then I spent the rest of the afternoon sitting in the living room window napping in the sun, working on my artwork for tomorrow (it's February, so it's the Opus Art Prompt-of-the-Day daily practice challenge where you are given a prompt each day and challenged to churn out a piece of art) and crying.

I really did fall asleep in the window and didn't see/hear JimE drive up until he walked in the back door. 

So in short, today sucked.

But tomorrow is another day...

Kinda Makes You Say, "Hmmm."

I headed off to do my grocery shopping as a beautiful sunrise arched over Superstore. I didn't take a photo because I was driving. Well actually, because I had my super fuzzy warm mittens on and I wasn't taking them off to dig in my purse for my phone. My dash display confirms it is minus 25 this morning. 

Westwood and Ferry Avenues are bumpy and jarring with compact ruts, the residual of 48 hours of snow we got that finally ended sometime in the night while the temperature plummeted. 

Even at this early hour I contemplated a number of things that just made me say, "Hmmm?"  

First I had to wonder what the heck was going through my mind to make me think it was a good idea to venture out at 7am on a Saturday when it is -25 degrees.  

Next, I contemplated something that has always baffled me, and if you have insight I'll gladly listen to it.  All summer long Superstore stores the carts in nice little rows in the foyer of the store. As soon as the weather starts to turn cold... outside they go. Covered in snow. And the -25 degree handle gives you frostbite on your fingers by the time you reach the produce department, and all you can think about is getting the heck outta the store so you can ditch the cart. Seriously. This has baffled me for years. 

And third, as I was driving home, I had to wonder about snow clearing procedures. You see people on social media bitching and whining all the time about it, but to be honest, I think the city does a pretty decent job of keeping up. 

I'm not sure how they determine which streets are "priority one, priority two" etc, but Westwood is a pretty main thoroughfare and is a bus route for a number of bus runs. And Ferry is a major road that intersects with lights at Highway 16. Neither of these streets had been plowed yet. Yet coming home, I turn onto Range, a much lesser street, and it looks like a superhighway with the snow banks pushed right back. 

Then I hang a left onto Wiebe, a short street behind Costco that doesn't take you anywhere but behind Costco. Again, this wee side road is neatly plowed right back and ready for the weekend. The only explanation for this is that somehow the big-box giant retail store is more of a priority than bus routes and safe access onto the main highways.  Kinda makes you say, "Hmmm...."   

Frozen snowy cart for my fresh veggies. 

Wiebe Rd, plowed and ready for the weekend.

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.