Psychological Motivation

Have you driven the Road to Hana in Maui?

Hana rhymes with sauna and does NOT sound like Hannah. Let's just get that out of the way.

People tend to look at their map and say, “Oh, it’s only 64 miles. We can make it to Hana in about an hour.” Well, not unless you’re flying… literally. Aptly dubbed “The Divorce Highway,” the Road to Hana has an exhausting, and many times harrowing, 617 hairpin curves and 59 unforgiving one-lane bridges, not to mention an incredible number of blind spots along the way. And, since the speed limit is 25 mph or less the entire way, that puts the drive time, (with few to no stops), averaging about 2.5 hours — and that’s without encountering any traffic or other diversions.

Oh, and there are more obstacles to making it there “on time,” like being mesmerized by all of the incredibly beautiful waterfalls, local handmade jewelry, fragrant flowers and leis, fresh pineapple, banana bread and a host of other Hawaiian culinary delights to be discovered at the roadside stands.

We drove it in 2017. It was a fabulous experience.

If you get a chance to drive it, or anywhere in Maui really, I highly recommend you download the GyPSy Guide app for your phone. It's a game changer.

Near the seven mile marker of the trip are the Rainbow Eucalyptus Trees. So beautiful they seem fake.

Anyway, that's not really what this post is about, it's about me... 🙂

I don't really think of myself as being a competitive person. But that's really not true. I do love to be right and I love to win. It's just that I tend to only compete if I figure I have a pretty good chance.

So, no tennis games or speed races or singing contests for me.

I do try to get my daily steps in each day. While Jim was playing hockey three days a week over the winter, I often would go and mall walk or go to Costco or Superstore and intentionally walk up and down every aisle, sometimes twice.

Now that winter is over it's nice to get back outside again.

But I'm scared spitless of bears and cougars and dogs and pretty much anything on four legs. So sometimes I need a little push to get me going.

A few weeks ago I had an ad for The Conqueror app come across one of my newsfeeds.

It was a virtual challenge to walk the length of The Cabot Trail. This piqued my interest as it was my favourite drive I've ever taken.

The app includes street views of where you are along the way, and points of interest. You get digital postcards when you reach milestones and they even send a physical medal in the mail when you finish.

It seemed like a fun challenge with little perks to keep you motivated. It might be just what I need to keep me going. Cuz the thoughts of being healthy, in shape and possibly losing some weight obviously haven't been all that motivating for me.

However, the Cabot Trail is 298km long. That seemed like it might be a bit much to take on for my first challenge.

But, there is also a Road to Hana 104km challenge. That seemed a little more doable to me.

So I signed up.

They recommended you set an 8-week goal to finish the walk. I figured I would push myself to complete it in six.

But oddly, I have been motivated and spurred on by these little psychological perks and it's a great online community as well.

I began on April 8th.

And today, 18 days later I kicked some Hana butt as I crossed the virtual finish line.

And now I await my medal to arrive in the mail:

And tomorrow I'm off to meander the shores of Italy along the Amalfi Coast.

People are Disgusting.

Snow Mould. It's a thing.

And it shows up in the spring as snow melts away and reveals a layer of grey fuzz on your lawn. It developes when the ground isn't very frozen before it gets covered with a thick blanket of snow that lasts for months.

Often as the mould is uncovered it produces a nasty smell, not unlike the dog poop that also gets exposed in the spring.

I know there's not much we can do about the mould. And about all we can do about the poop is complain about inconsiderate dog owners who refuse to abide by the bylaws and frequent signage that state owners must pick up after their leashed poop machines.

It's not the fault of the dogs. It's the people who are disgusting.

But even with these stink factors and the dirty layers of sand and gravel that cover everything after being spread around and left behind by street sanders over the winter, I get excited. Spring is on the way!

Yay! We've survived another winter.

Another winter of lockdowns, restrictions and mandates.

The result of which adds another nasty layer appearing as the snow recedes.

Face masks.

People are disgusting.

We walked to Save-On yesterday and I decided to count masks along the way. We were chatting as we walked so it is quite likely I missed some. I obviously only saw one side of the street as we walked, but there were forty one.

Forty one discarded face masks lining the 1.9km-each-way trek from my house to Save-On.

People are disgusting.

Today I did my walk in my old neighbourhood. I counted masks again, and even took photos, as I walked along Pinewood from Ospika Blvd to Westwood Dr, (I'd estimate it's about a half kilometer stretch) I counted 18. On the sidewalk. On the road. In people's driveways. On their lawns.

People are disgusting.

I read recently on the City of PG Facebook page that there are 693km of city streets. (Do you follow their page? They have a new writer and their posts are often hilarious.) I walked about six of those kilometers in the past 24 hours and stepped over 59 freaking facemasks.

People are disgusting.

Before we moved into town from 'the farm' seventeen years ago, I spent months driving around different neighbourhoods assessing things like how fast the snow melted, how many kids hung out on the street, and how close were the bus stops before I chose an acceptable neighbourhood. Being close to a bus stop for Jed was a definite prerequisite.

However, if I were doing the same experiment today, being in close proximity of a bus stop would no longer be a prerequisite, but rather a detriment. It's my unscientific observation that living within two blocks of a bus stop will pretty much guarantee that, come spring, your yard and driveway will will be filled with a layer of discarded face masks.

People are disgusting.

And I kinda wish I'd bought shares in the face mask industry two years ago.

I Wanna Phone My Mama.

​Sometimes I’m nearly asleep and I jolt awake wanting to phone my Mama. 

Like tonight. 

I’m sleeping in a hotel. Falling asleep while thinking about coffee. 

Remembering as a child running to greet my Dad on the driveway when he arrived home from work.  The first kid to get to him got to carry his thermos in the house and drink the last inch or so of coffee left in the bottom. Sweet sweet creamy lukewarm nectar.  

It’s only just now, as I type this out fifty years later, that I realize he probably intentionally didn’t drink the last few swallows in the thermos so he could bring home a sweet blessing for one of his five kids. (This thought seriously has just punched me in the heart.) 

But tonight my sleepy thoughts had me trying to remember how my Mama brewed that coffee for Dad’s thermos each day.  

I have no recollection.  

Most of my childhood we had no electricity. We surely didn’t have a Keurig or Delonghi to push a button to select the strength and flavour, with an option of frothed milk.  Neither was it even a simple Melitta pour-through with a cone and filter. 

But I can’t recall it. 

“Mama!” 

I just wanna ask a simple question. 

“How did you make coffee, way back when?” 

I know instant coffee was a thing for a while. But I don’t think that’s how they filled Dad’s Thermos. 

And so I lay awake…

It’s not like there’s more important crap to be hijacking my thoughts at night. My country’s not on the brink of civil war. The world’s not spinning out of control. People aren’t being manipulated and divided in insanely bizarre ways that even ten years ago no one in the ‘free’ world could have even imagined…

No, it’s the vintage ways of brewing coffee that are keeping me awake.  

And I just wanna phone my Mama. 

It's a Wrap. Or is it Keto Doritos?

I fairly strictly followed a Keto eating plan for the better part of a year and was quite successful in losing some weight. But more than losing weight, I just felt better without all the carbs.

For the last year or so my Keto plan has morphed into more of a dirty, lazy low-carb. I'm no longer losing weight, but I really do feel better eating this way. And even Jim doesn't mind eating it, if I toss him daily rations of fruit and the occasional baked potato.

When I first started Keto, the options for bread, and it's substitutes, was really limited and not all that tolerable. But with so many people jumping on the bandwagon the options have increased substantially.

I really like the Keto wraps from Save-on.

But I haven't been able to find them in the last couple of weeks.

My phone must have overheard me looking for keto wraps and thus popped up an ad for Mr Tortilla on Amazon.

I've heard good things about the Mr Tortilla wraps but have never seen them anywhere in town.

Food from Amazon?

How bad can it be?

And the price was pretty decent.

I ordered four 24-packs last week and they arrived this morning. Best before May 2022.

I excitedly opened the box.

I nearly choked on my saliva when I gasped at the sight of them!

Oh.my.gosh!!

I dunno what kind of wrap I'll make first.

Perhaps I'll wrap an olive. Or maybe a cherry tomato or a teaspoon of salad dressing. Not much else will fit.

These things are hilarious!

I'll probably air fry them and eat them like doritos.

Parenting Matilda, Georgia and Jeannie.

Meet Jeannie...

I was getting some daily steps in Costco the other day and I bypassed a display of live plants. I'm not really a plant person. Oh, I love greenery and plants and trees and all things summer, but I kinda rely on God to provide them for my enjoyment.

Shortly before our new home was ready to move into JimE and I had a conversation about orchids. We both liked the look of them and thought they would suit our contemporary-clean-lines-simple-decor new home.

I knew nothing about them other than a cut orchid will live for months and months in the fridge if there are no ripe apples or other fruit nearby. (A fact I learned when I was 15 and worked in a flower shop.)

But I bought one for JimE as a house warming present on June 10th last year when we got possession of our new home. Orchids have always reminded me of the artworks of Georgia O'Keefe and I wanted to name our new plant Georgia but somehow the name didn't fit. And she became known as Matilda.

In Cahoots with the Boots.

Superstore was crazy busy today.

I didn't have many items, and had I known how long the lineups were I wouldn't even have stopped.

I took my items to the "16 items or less" express checkout and stopped in my tracks. The line-up was about 1/3 of the way down one of the aisles. I momentarily contemplated brushing off my convictions and actually going to a selfcheckout. But nope. I just couldn't do it. (Probably more out of stubborness than anything, but I refuse to participate in this utter lack of customer service.)

I scanned all the 'also long' regular lineups and factored in who the cashiers were (I can be rather judgemental like that, but I've become fairly adept at choosing who is gonna move their line quickly and who is gonna have to call for a manager or price check for every second customer.) I took my half dozen items to till 7 with the middle-aged woman with red hair and stepped into the long, but shorter than express, lineup behind a couple also carrying a basket with just a few items.

As we were waiting in line I checked out her footwear. Which is something I almost always do in a lineup or a waiting room. I read once that (while people-watching) you can tell more about a person by their footwear than just about anything else. At the time I sort of scoffed at the notion, but have never forgotten it. And over the years, I've come to think it's rather true.

This woman had on a spectacular pair of blue boots. I'd never seen them before.

"I wonder if they are Riekers?" I thought. And instead of just complimenting her on her boots and asking her, I then proceded to carry on a full conversation in my head.

"Maybe they aren't $200 Riekers, maybe they are $400 AS98's."

"Y'know they could be some sort of $89 Walmart knock-offs."

So I proceded to judge her clothing by brand name and check out her husband's shoes (which were Merrells) and decide they were probably Riekers.

"Yes!" I thought.

I got a rather sizable GC to Walk Rite Shoes from my hubby for Christmas. "I think tomorrow while JimE is playing hockey I'll go on a shoe date with myself and see what they have in stock for boots. Maybe they will even be on sale."

And with that decision, my mood brightened and waiting in line didn't seem so bad.

I got home and put my groceries away, got supper started and decided to sit down and catch up on social media on my phone.

I opened Facebook read a couple of posts before the first "sponsored" ad scrolled across my feed:

What the ??!?!!... "No!" I exclaimed. "Just No!"

Which got my husband's attention. "What?"

"Look at this ad on my Facebook feed!!" (I can promise you I have never seen it before. Trust me, I'd remember.)

I proceded to tell him my Superstore experience.

"Did you talk to her about her boots?" he asked. We've both become a little suspect of our devices listening to us to produce their algorithms in recent years.

"No. I did not say anything out loud. The entire conversations took place in my head. I didn't even sneakily snap a photo." (Which I've been known to do.)

Weird.

But I'm pretty stoked that I was able to call them out as Riekers.

Blogging About Blogging

Yesterday was the anniversary of Albert's passing.

I had a cry day.

It's kind of an odd position to be in. To be so blessed, in love, and living my best life, while simultaneously grieving the loss of my other best life. And what a blessing that my new love also grieves my past love - JimE and I truly have a special thing going that few others can really understand.

Anyway, let me rabbit trail a bit here...

Our Northern Health region is currently in a different 'special lock down' than the rest of the province. And as such church has been mandated to online or zoom sessions only.

Each week JimE and Beth lead worship music; one opens with a set-list and the other closes with a couple of songs and they take turns opening and closing.

JimE opened his laptop yesterday (Sunday) morning to send his two closing songs to her. And lo and behold Beth had already sent him her set list. Both lists included "Father of Lights." (Which, incidently, is one of my faves.)

Anyway, in collaboration they decided they'd start the meeting with Beth leading it and JimE would finish off leading it again. It actually worked well.

*** end of rabbit trail ***

As a sort of last minute thing that evening, a group of us decided to meet at 6pm at Northern Lights Winery to walk through the festival of lights. Actually I think it's called "Light up the Orchard" but I always call it "Festival of Lights."

It was a nice warm evening and the walk was beautiful.

When our half hour session was over we all just sort of stood in the parking lot with no real plan since it was sort of a last minute group date. So I just threw it out there, "Party at our house!" Poor JimE. He's a good sport and is learning to just go with it when I get crazy.

And twenty minutes later the party was at our house.

I was grateful we had gotten the inside Christmas decorating done this weekend to compliment the outdoor decor that's been up for a couple of weeks. And grateful we always have charcuterie fixings and wine on hand. It was like we'd planned this party for weeks, when in fact I was a crying mess just a few hours before. We have good friends.

But we are all old people. And the party was over by 9:30. We did a quick clean up and Jim sat to watch the recorded hockey game.

I felt the need to debrief the day, so plunked down at my computer and set out to blog. Blogging has always been my own personal therapy that I just happen to publicly share with anyone else who may be entertained by it.

I sat at my keyboard starting and restarting a blog entry many times, but just couldn't get it to go in a direction I needed it to. So I took a wee Facebook break.

And the first thing that pops up on my feed is a post by my sis-in-law Coralie commemorating her brother Albert. Her post included about a half dozen photos and a video. The video was recorded during Albert's last session he had in his music room in September 2018. The phone actually fell over at the beginning of the recording, so it's just a black screen with audio. Audio of Albert singing, "Father of Lights."

Seriously?!!?

And with that, blogging went out the window. That was the therapy I needed. To finish off my "Festival of Lights" day with another version of Father of Lights.

*****

This morning I went back to my computer to see if there was anything salvagable in my attempted blogging from the night before. Nope. Nothin' to see there.

However, I noticed the post I wrote last year on November 28th. While I did publish the post I didn't actually publicly share it. I'm not sure why because I never do that. The post was only viewed 5 times. And 4 of them were probably me.

Perhaps someone needs to read it this year.

So here is my blog entry for November 28, 2020:

Learning the Attitude of Gratitude.

"He's gone."

A very short sentence, with life altering impact, that needed no further explanation.

Without a doubt the three worst phone calls I have ever had to make. On the worst day of my life- November 28, 2018.

It's been two years today since I said goodbye to the man who had been my everything for 38 years and eight days.

I've done a lot of reminiscing this past week or so. I recall last year fearing the coming of November 28, the first anniversary of losing him, and how it signified to me a moving on of sorts. Well, actually I prefer to think of it as a moving forward.

And here at the second anniversary, I acknowledge that by the grace of God, I have moved forward. This doesn't mean I forget all that Albert brought to my life. For surely I am blessed beyond measure every.single.day by the things he provided for me. And daily I am grateful. Even on days when missing him actually physically hurts my heart.

I would have NEVER imagined that I would be remarried two years later. Never imagined who I would be remarried to. Never imagined building a new house. Never imagined, never imagined, never imagined....

Never imagined.

I actually have a fantastic imagination.

And I do tend to imagine stuff.

I try not to live in fear and imagine the worst 'what ifs."

But I do find myself often imagining "what if ...." And then trying to pre-live a scenario. Not so much to bring fear upon myself, but more in a "prepare myself for anything" situation. And I truly believe it has saved me on many an occasion to walk through situations with a little more grace and confidence than might be expected. Or than I actually feel.

Walking through grief is always uncharted territory. And there is no set pattern to follow. No right way to grieve. No wrong way to navigate. No matter how many grief sessions you are required to walk through.

I have lost a child. Lost my Mom. Lost my Dad. Lost my grandparents. Lost my bestest friend. Lost my in-laws. Lost my husband of 37 years. And at times I've felt I've lost my sanity.

And I still don't know how to accurately walk through this sh!t.

Truly, I want more than anything to be able to post a blog or write a book with a step-by-step guide on how to navigate loss.

But there is no such guide.

The absolute best advice I can give is to daily be grateful. This is ultimately what has sustained me. Being grateful every.single.day. Even on the hardest days, find something to be grateful for.

As encouraged by St Paul in Thessalonians: in everything give thanks. It doesn't mean being thankful for everything that comes your way. But rather, in every circumstance focus your mind on things you can be grateful for.

I can't describe it, but finding gratitude in all things has changed my life.

And for that I am grateful.

This man. I am so grateful for the foundation we had that can launch me forward with the grace of Jesus into the future. 

Here's the link to Coralie's Facebook post of Albert singing "Father of Lights"