The bank is empty.

I don't use a lot of big words. But I do like etymology, which in itself is a big word, but simply means the origin of words and phrases.

Haven't you always wondered where the phrase "caught red handed" came from? It happens when you've just killed someone and still have their blood on your hands.

And what about "goodbye"? It was originally "God bless you." Some will argue that it became shortened when people felt obliged to use the customary term but didn't actually want God to bless the person. Hence, the word goodbye is actually a curse.

I love to think about words, and I enjoy writing them. Speaking them - not so much. I feel like I only have so many verbal words allotted each day, and when I use them up, I'm done.

When we have needy customers at work that just seem to be there to waste our time, we call them "time pirates" and it makes us a little reluctant to help them the next time they come in. However, I think it's not my time that I begrudge them, it's my words.

Yesterday I had a customer who just didn't get it when it came to taking care of his hot tub water and I had to explain in ridiculous detail the procedures. I had to talk non-stop for over half an hour. "Big deal," you may say. However, for me, it is a big deal. That's was my whole day's worth of words.

After he left, I turned to Nikki and said, "Don't talk to me again today." I think she was a little offended because, she on the other hand, gets allotted about 30 times the number of words I do each day.

Even by 10 o'clock last night I still hadn't managed to recharge my word bank. I came here to the blog site with the full intention of making a new entry. I was home by myself and the house was quiet and wine glass was in hand. This is my most ideal setting when I write. I logged in. I opened a blank page. And I stared blankly. Even though I wanted to, and it had been a while since I made an entry so I felt obliged to, I had nothing. So I went to bed. Goodbye.

The bucket list.

It often seems that after someone dies suddenly, you notice little things they had said or done that sort of "prepared" the way for them. I think it's for this reason, subconsciously, I've always dragged my butt about updating our wills, life insurance and papers and stuff. I think that as long as I'm not "preparing the way" then it won't happen to me. It's just my twisted way of thinking, I suppose.

Last spring we went to see The Bucket List. I really like Jack Nicholson. For reasons unknown, he reminds me of Albert. Ever since then, on occasion I think, "I should make a bucket list." But then I think, "No, that would sort of prepare the way... I'm not ready for that."

However, even though I haven't written out things on a list, I do have 2 items waiting to be added:

Zip Trek at Whistler. This is where you spend the day riding zip line swings back and forth across the canyons. Whenever I do make the list, this item will be last because surely I shall die of fright on such an excursion.

Writing a book. I'm gonna write a book one day. When I went back to school a few years ago, at the beginning of the class we had to introduce ourselves and tell everyone why we were in the program.

Everyone had lofty reasons - start a career, change a career, make money, avoid entering the workforce etc. Then it was my turn.

"My name is Liana Ziemer. And I want to see it written on a book cover some day."

That's it. No ambitions. Just selfish vanity. I have no idea the content or purpose for the book, other than just to see my name on the cover.

Then a couple of years after that, I bought a book by Sue Buchanan called Duh-votions. I think I hadn't even finished reading the introduction when I exclaimed, "This is the book I want to write." Dammit. Sue beat me to it.

Basically it's not much different than my blog. It's 60 random one or two page ramblings from her life. Except that she's added a one-line prayer to the end of each. And she's become rich and famous because of it.

Perhaps it would get boring when each chapter of my version ends with "Dear Lord. Help me not to kill Jed today. Amen."

Some things you are better off not knowing.

Sometimes time is worth more than money. That's why we decided to hire a drywaller to finish the suite. The extra charge for him to paint as well was practically inconsequential.

The guy we hired has 30 years experience and Alb has worked along side him on a couple of reno jobs he's done for other people so he felt comfortable with his ability and work ethic. (which means speed with which he will perform at a reasonable cost that doesn't increase after the initial quote)

Turns out the guy has hired an assistant to help him increase his production. They came in the first day and got started after I handed over keys to my house so they could come and go as needed. I was introduced to the assistant, whose name I cannot recall because as the words, "Nice to meet you," were rolling off my tongue my mind was scrambling to assess his character. Sadly, as is typical of human nature, I immediately formed an opinion of the guy who has a total of seven teeth.

Alb was not home that day and as I left for work with strangers in my home, it was a bit unsettling for me.

Today I was off work and so was home while they worked. This was slightly even more unsettling. Alb was in bed after night shift so I could not retreat to my room. I couldn't even busy myself doing laundry because my washer has died. So I sat 15 feet from where the men were busily mudding my new dining area and I worked on formatting Jed's laptop that he had managed to own for 22 days before he had it so screwed up that even the Dell technicians couldn't help me.

Working in such close proximity I couldn't help but be privvy to the conversation of the men. I got to hear how the hired guy reacts to various drugs. I also got to hear rave reviews of the rehab programs at Kingston Penitentiary - affectionately known as Alcatraz North. Apparently they offer great computer programs, and you can learn auto mechanics. You can't access the internet. The food is really decent. These are not things I want to hear from someone who has keys to my home while my husband is on nightshift.

It's the thought that counts.

Autumn is upon us. That means it's time to put Betty the bike away for the season.

We decided to take her for one last ride on the weekend. We were going to go to Williams Lake and have dinner at the Laughing Loon and stay overnight but the weather forecast didn't look all that favourable for the Sunday morning ride home. So we decided we'd just take a day trip and head east to Mt Robson instead.

The pavement is new. The road winds and has some hills. There's not much traffic, and few inhabited areas. The scenery is beautiful and the ride fantastic. Of course hanging on to my leather-clad husband for 7 hours is a bonus.

With the full intention of having a meal when we arrived, we packed only a camera and a water bottle and hit the road.

The power was out at the Mt Robson cafe so our only option was a prepackaged sandwich and lukewarm coffee that had been sitting in the carafe for 4 hours. We sat and ate our little picnic and gazed at the majestic mountain. And then it was time to hit the road and head for home.

We wandered back to the bike to find a woman and her wheelchair bound father oogling over her in the parking lot. We had a nice chat and learned they were from Edmonton and the father used to hike the mountain in his younger, obviously more agile, days. Turns out we weren't the only ones whose destination was simply a glimpse of the mountain which provided completely cloudless view that day.

In the midst of our conversation the man who was verbal, but not completely literate (or whatever the word is for not clearly understood) pointed to my Harley boots and made some incomprehensible comment. Clearly he was as thrilled with the sight of them as I had been when I found them in a shop in Kelowna 4 or 5 years ago. Only, it was a cheap thrill for him. It cost me a hundred and thirty bucks.

They asked if we minded if they just sit and watch while we leathered up, boarded and rode off. We waved and we were off.

About 2 kilometers down the road I thought, "That was stupid. We should have put Alb's helmet on him and taken his pic with his wheelchair behind the bike so it looked like he was riding it." We could have emailed or mailed him a copy. Why is it when you have a good thought, it's always an after thought, but when bad things come to you, you spout them out without thinking it through?

The perfect smorg. And it's free.

I was out doing errands and grocery shopping yesterday. At one point I was starving. I considered running through a drive-through but I really don't need the calories, fat, sodium or extra swipe on my debit card. I considered running home to fix something but knew that if I walked in the door there was no way I'd leave again to finish my errands. I really only needed to hit up Costco then I'd be done.

And I really do like getting groceries on an empty stomach. I know they tell you not to cuz you tend to buy more things - but isn't that the point to grocery shopping? I hate it when you shop on a full stomach and get home and realize you really didn't buy much more than toilet paper and ketchup.

At the end of the first aisle in Costco someone was handing out sample bites of energy bars. I ate one. It tasted like grass but it took the edge off. I decided I could avoid having to go home and make something if I just wandered the aisles in search of the free sample ladies.

It was great. I had 2 bites of lasagne, a cracker with hummus, a bite of bread with a blob of almond butter (glad I didn't waste 8 bucks buying a jar), 1/2 a perogy and topped it all off with a mini cream puff. By the time I left I was feeling satisfied but not stuffed. It cost me nothing and I didn't have to cook. It don't get much better than that.

Self portrait is self explanatory.

Life with Jed has been and will continue to be an adventure. Depending on his mood and behaviours, on first impressions many people don't realize he has special needs and are surprised when I explain it to them.

I woke up to this image on my desktop this morning. I think I'll carry it in my wallet - it's pretty self explanatory:

God is pleased. Amen.

I've taken on the role of official church decorator. Mostly as a safe-guard against having teaching Sunday School once again become a part of my official ministry duties.

I'm quite excited about the task (ask me again in June, though) however, I find it very distracting on Sunday morning during sermon time. Brian is a good speaker and I enjoy listening to him but it gets difficult to concentrate while you are trying to guesstimate how many feet it is from the plug-in on the ledge to the north wall. And what if I just inched the drums over a bit to the left. I could probably fit the Christmas tree in behind there - or maybe I could rig up a stand for it so it looks a little taller than it is.

One day last week I was seeking a moment of me-time and found myself inside Liquidation World. They had some really cool Thanksgiving items at clearance-clearance prices. I even found some Christmas things - I'm determined to redo the dilapidated looking wreaths at the church sometime in the next month. I got quite a bit of stuff for quite a little amount of money - even though they double rung in a couple of items.

I decided yesterday that I'd better go get my money back for the extra items they charged me for. It amounted to about 13 bucks - not a big deal, but a good excuse to go back to Liquidation World.

I walked in the door and it was like a large vacuum just sucked me right over to the blue-ticket-item section. There was a huge table of 5-cent items. 5 cents!! That's a nickel. You can't even use a nickel in a parking meter anymore. We're not talking crap here. This was good stuff.

I got 100 floral things for revamping the wreaths for 5 cents each. I had just bought 4 of them the other day for a dollar each. I got candle holders- great for spring and fall decorating. As I skipped with excitement towards the check-out I had to pass a whole new Christmas aisle. Oh lordy! When my cart became heaped to the point of spilling out, I just said to myself, "Enough is enough. Stop now." I just had to walk away.

I spent 32 dollars of God's money from the minimal church decorating budget and I got a full cart:





I think God is pleased with my good stewardship. Amen?