Suzeville

Ruby a.k.a. Stitch a.k.a. Satan

2011-11-11T13:25:00.000-08:00

Readers, meet Ruby. Ruby is the newest addition to the Barth/Conley/Gustafson tribe and she is adorable but very, very evil. She is five months old and has lived at the Cranbrook SPCA since her birth which I think goes a long way to explaining her satanic ways. When I met her for the first time, she scratched me and ran away. She does that on a daily basis and also growls which led me to the conclusion that she wasn't actually a cat, she was an alien like on the cartoon "Lilo and Stitch". Do you see the similarity? Do you? DO YOU?!!!!

Ruby is half manx which is a h-u-g-e part of her charm and I'm sure one of the few reasons that she hasn't been strangled yet. Not quite manx but certainly not 'normal' (in oh, so many ways). She has half a tail. Half. Have you ever seen anything quite like that before? Ever?

Ruby was named after one of the characters in the television show 'Supernatural'.... a beautiful demon. Appropriate somehow, no? 'Stitch' CERTAINLY would have worked well too but for now, she's our Ruby and we love her.

Now if only I can get her to stop taking her evil demon poops in my plants.... maybe I'll smite her.

Suze-isms

2011-09-28T02:07:00.000-07:00

Yes, I've been away a long time. Blah, blah, blah.... I apologize. Yadda, yadda, yadda.... so sorry.

Now that we have that out of the way, let me tell you all about the 'Custom Dictionary' on my BlackBerry. I was looking through it the other night and had so much fun that I simply have to share it with y'all. Now for those of you who are even less technologically inclined than I am (a rare beast you must be if you exist), a custom dictionary keeps a list of words that you use frequently that the existing dictionary on the BlackBerry doesn't recognize. Here we go.

Abbotsford: Where Jim's parents live, folks who I absolutely ADORE. Their home has become a refuge for me and I love them so much.

Absolution: Since when is that not a word??? Sheesh. Apparently I must require it on a regular basis.

Advil: Thank fuck for Advil. You know those people who always say "Oh, I just HATE taking painkillers". Yeah. I'm not one of them. I buy it in bulk at Costco.

Apologize: Whatever. My BlackBerry is set to UK English where they want me to use 'apologise' instead. Looks dumb and reminds me of a former co-worker who really needed a head-squishing.

Asshat: Bwah ha ha ha ha ha!!!! Love that word. Reminds me of Shannon, a former co-worker who I love and who is funny as fuck. She introduced me to it.

Bitches: Yay, Bitches! Especially the Blind Bay variety.

Blech: Really, what other word can you use? "Susan, would you like olives on your pizza?" Blech.

Bwah: As in "Bwah ha ha ha ha"!

Carmella: Short for 'Carmella Soprano'. My darling offspring believe that I have mafia-wife hair. Hence the nickname.

Citran: Apparently the dictionary recognized 'neo' which is best paired with 'citran'. Please see 'Advil' above for opinions re: voluntary pain.

Clusterfuck: A word describing my life at least 3 times per week. Plus, I just like any word I can pair with 'fuck'. Yes, I'm a potty mouth. So was Elizabeth Taylor. What of it?

C*nt: I really, really, REALLY want to type the entire word but I don't want to offend anyone although the mere suggestion of the word has likely already done the job. People who know me well know that I love that word. I refuse to let anyone make a word that describes a part of my body into something derogatory. Reclaim that word, ladies. Seriously. It's ours.

Ding-ding: A term of endearment, really. If I haven't called you 'Ding-ding' at least once, I probably don't really like you all that much. Just sayin'.

Donde: As in "Donde Esta", Spanish for "Where is". I use it all the time. "Donde esta keys?!!!" or even "Donde Esta Love?!!" if I feel that I'm not getting enough attention at any given time. Hijacked this one from Seeso.

Fiestaware: I heart Fiestaware. I have no words.

Fishercat: Dear God. This is whole blogpost of it's own. I'll be sure to make it my next one.... in another 7 or 8 months. Thought I better say it because all of you were thinking it. Haters.

Fuck: Also - fucked, fucker, fuckers, fuckin', fucking, fuckity (as in 'what the fucikty fuck?!), motherfucker, motherfucking and last but not least, fucktard. I'm seriously sorry if I've offended anyone here. I was raised Catholic and was unable to use that word for the first 16 years of my life. I have a lot of making up to do.

Helga: Another nickname for my hair. From my children. They think I'm actually powerless and the only reason I have any ferocious-ness at all is because of the independent entity that resides atop my head. Is my hair really that bad???

Hijinx: Seriously!!! Is there a better word in the English language? Love getting up to all sorts o' hijinx on a regular basis.

Nyquil: Please see above definitions for 'Advil' and 'Neo Citran'. If I had a triplicate prescription pad I'd be dangerous.

Ohmygod: Much more effictive with no spacing. Also, "omg" and "omgomgomgomg".

Pooter: Cutest word in the world for my downstairs girlie-bits. 'Pooterville' is also there for which I have no reasonable explanation.

Roundy: I like to put a 'y' on the end of many, many words. It's cute when I do it, I swear to god.

Schmoosh: Also, 'Schmooshy' and 'Schmooshing'. A lovely way to describe cuddles. I really do love schmooshing.

Wowza: a way I express being speechless. I am incapable of being speechless, therefore I needed to create a word that replaced speech-less-ish-ness.

Zilla: Something I put on the end of a word to accentuate it. How tired am I? It's 2:58am. Tired-zilla.

/jpc

2011-02-02T00:55:00.000-08:00

Ok y'all. I think it's happened. I met a boy. Ok, well not a boy... a man. I've been somewhat resistant to the concept of being in a relationship again (my girlfriends are all collectively rolling their eyes right now at the irritating accuracy of that statement) but this one was just too good to pass up.

Readers, meet /jpc. Object of my affection. My man. Oh-patient-one-who-tolerates/embraces-my-kooky-ways. You know all of those annoying things about me? Yeah, well for some reason he finds them endearing. Adorable even. Who knew there was a person alive who could possibly fit that bill?

I haven't asked his permission to use his name or photo in my blog so at this point I won't. /jpc is how he signs anything that he's written. Yes, he's a writer. Plays guitar. Sings. Composes music. Cooks (brilliantly). Great kisser. No, you can't have him. Mine.

I've been nervous about posting about him here, I must admit. I have been afraid to jinx it. However, it's time. I've met his kids. (More about them soon, with permission from their parents). He's met my kids. Our kids have met each other. Each of these steps has gone incredibly well. Especially the my-kids-meeting-his-kids part. We were sitting on his bed talking and listening to our kids laughing and having a wonderful time together. We just looked at each other with a "Can you believe this???!" look on our faces. I've met his parents and I love them. Not kidding. L-O-V-E them. They are sweet and kind and down to earth and I'm grateful to them for raising such a wonderful man. They welcomed me with open arms simply because I make their boy happy.

It hasn't been entirely easy. We've already experienced challenges that would topple a lot of couples but we've navigated our way through them together. Opening up to a relationship (for real) has not been easy for me. To be blunt, I find it terrifying. Apparently being vulnerable isn't my strong suit. Who knew? I'm learning a ton about myself because he knows me and calls me on my shit. I do the same for him and it's so damn refreshing. It feels healthy and I'm so very happy. He makes me laugh every single day.

I'd like to share something he wrote for me tonight. Anyone who knows me well will understand after reading this just how well my /jpc has come to know me. You will see a couple of 'chipmunk' references in this piece -- he's referring to the Chipmunks in the Looney Toons cartoon; you know? The polite Chipmunks? "After you... no, after you!" He claims that I behave that way now and then. It's also peppered with Pastafarian references which I love. Here it is....

He posted on facebook: "/jpc has converted to Suzism."
To which I replied: "Followers of Suzism are commonly referred to as 'Suzafarians'. Welcome to the flock.... brace yourself, Darlin'. ♥"
To which HE replied:

"From The Book of Suze:
The chipmunk is revered and Suzists shall neither eat of its flesh nor wear robes of its fur.
In the beginning Suze created the world and it was cute when she did it.
And Susan begat Connor, Jack and Bridget who tore the temple asunder and dragged her about by her feet.
Behold the unspeakable name of her Hair which mere men must refer to only as 'Helga'.
The chariot of Suze, drawn by a flock of chipmunks, shall be known as 'The Mustang'.
Upon the shores of Blind Bay great confusion and revelry was heard - Suze disguised herself in a beer box and walked among her followers unseen.
On the second date Suze made pizza and it was good.
And Suze came down from the mountain wearing vestments of spaghetti and carrying a Blackberry and a laptop before her.
Her follower Jim looked back on the ruins of Nakusp and was turned into a pillar of snort.
Yea, I say to you 'yes', 'interesting' and 'little bit' and with these words let the spirit of Suze fill your cup, forever and ever,
Ramen."

This made me laugh, then it made me cry. The kids laughed at it too but of course Gigi wanted to know why it made me cry. It made me cry because:

This man knows me and it feels incredible to have someone know you that way in this world
He wrote this for me because he knew it would delight me and that was enough of a reason for him
He wrote it in spite of (because of?) me being a bit of a freaky-pants chick today
He wouldn't consider not including my children in it. Huge. H-u-g-e.
I can't believe I found him

I know I sound all schmooshy and I'm sorry but I can't help it. I know you've all come to expect this to be a schmoosh-free zone and I promise it will be again but tonight, please indulge me. It's nice to feel schmooshy again. It's been a long time.

/syb

Rowan-ish-ness

2010-12-16T20:13:00.000-08:00

Rowan.
Reluam (Pronounced 'Ra-loom' for some unknown reason).
Ra-loom-a-loo.
Ra-loomy.
Rowan the Dragon Mauler ('Reluam' is 'Mauler' backwards. Don't ask.)

Rowan is lovely. He came to visit the night before Connor's birthday 3 weeks ago and decided to stay. He needed a soft place to land. We had an extra room. Makes perfect sense, no?

Rowan is one of Connor's best friends. He's a remarkable young man; President of the Youth Society, Honour Roll, Student Council, Saxophone Player (piano too) and is just really, really sweet. He fits right in with us and already in this short amount of time, I can't imagine our family without him. He thinks he may want to be a lawyer. I think there's no doubt that he'll achieve whatever he puts his mind to.

Gigi now has yet another brother/quasi-brother (Connor, Jack, Bryce, Adam and now Rowan) and I really think she doesn't have a chance at dating until her mid 20's. I now have someone who can reach for the r-e-a-l-l-y high things in the cupboards. Connor and Jack have a built in xbox playing, D&D geeking, homework-doing brother/friend.

We love our Ra-loom and we're so happy to have him here with us. He's a bonus to our family and we're better because he's in it.

Rowan looking dapper and happy.

Rowan and Gigi looking fierce.

Randy 'n Rowan

2010-12-16T19:51:00.000-08:00

So y'all have met my friend Randy; he was here for Thanksgiving being a pain in the ass, as per usual. (See Randy? THIS is how I get the last word in. Mwah ha ha ha ha!) This past weekend, Randy decided to come for a visit again... I decided to let him because he was bringing his beautiful, feisty, wonderful daughter, Grace.

The last time Randy stayed at Shangri-la, he slept in the spare room on an antique bed left here by my sister and her hubby. Now, I know that 'antique bed' sounds very quaint and refined but apparently that isn't exactly the case. When Randy found out that Rowan (my new quasi-son....I'll get to that in a minute) was sleeping on the antique bed, he was horrified. He went on to describe in cringe-worthy detail just how uncomfortable it is to sleep on a bed that has springs poking through the mattress. He also pointed out that Rowan is 6'4" and it's a double bed which isn't exactly long enough for our Rowan. I asked Randy if he could pick up a foamy and bring it from Kelowna to make the bed a bit more comfortable. He completed disregarded my request, being the Ding-Ding that he is.

He ignored my request by bringing a new Queen-sized bed. The frame. The box spring. The mattress. Pillows. Two sets of bedding. A special Buzz Light Year pillow from Grace. He also brought clothes (bags of clothes) and a barbeque for me. Overwhelming. Really.

Randy saw a need and simply wanted to help. His generosity left me speechless which as most of you know is NOT an easy task. Rowan asked me why Randy, a complete stranger to him, would do something like this. I told him "Randy wants to make a difference and he believes in your potential." Then I think I might have smiled and said something like "Don't fuck it up" but I don't remember for sure. :)

I've known Randy for just over a year and he's become one of my best friends which is an elite category when you consider that people like my Barbs and my Seeso currently live there. I know I say it often but I'm really incredibly lucky to have such amazing friends and family. I'm not sure I'm worthy of them but I try my best to be.

Randy and Grace.

Grace is now 14 and a young woman but is every bit as beautiful as she was in this photo.

Ok, ok, ok! I couldn't wait.

2010-11-03T23:51:00.000-07:00

Here is the Night Time/Day Time bit I was talking about in my previous post! (If you haven't read it yet, please do so now before watching the video. Yeah, I'm serious.)

Ok, now that you've read my previous post, you can watch this. Try to imagine me on an airplane looking out one window ("Night time!") then the other window ("Day time!!")

The video is literally 17 seconds long so just do it! I promise you'll laugh.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=THrpJSstWZ8

(Two posts in ONE month and it's only November 3rd, Barb.... )

Yup. That's it....

2010-11-03T23:38:00.000-07:00

I've always emphatically stated that my favourite colour is yellow. For the most part it is but tonight I saw another colour that rivals it closely. I don't have a specific name for this colour so I'll just call it "when-the-sun-sets-and-you're-above-the-clouds-watching-it" colour. Yeahhhh. Also known as 'orange'. Please see the photo below as an illustration:

I guess there is actually some yellow-ish-ness in it, no? And while this photo is lovely (thank you google photos), the actual sunset was much more beautiful. Tonight, watching sun set above the clouds as I flew to Victoria was pretty amazing. I was also able to look out one window and see night time and the other window and see day time (Night time.... day time. Night time... daytime. My friend Shori is laughing her ASS off right now reading this. I'll add a link that will explain why this is so freakin' funny in my next post).

ANYhoo.... the concierge will be calling at 7am with my wake up call (.... "would you like another call again 10 minutes later, Ms. Barth.... just in case?" "Why yes. Yes I would, Mr. Concierge.") so I'd best get some sleep in my Delta-like bliss.

G'night all. :)

Thankful

2010-10-12T18:39:00.000-07:00

I love Thanksgiving. Love it. Love it. Love it.

I think you're getting the picture, no? I'm not sure what it is.... perhaps the time of year and leaves changing colour. Or maybe it's the fact that it's a holiday that involves food, family, friends, laughter and relaxation without the insanity and stress of things that often accompany certain holidays, say like Christmas.

I'm always excited for this particular long weekend but Thanksgiving this year was one of the best I've had in a very long time. The Brats were all with me at Shangri-la and my good friend Randy came from Kelowna to spend it with us. We just hung out, played poker and a board game called 'Sequence', laughed and drank the wine and port that Randy brought. (No, the kids didn't drink the boozes. Sheesh; shame on y'all who thought that.)

I felt.... well, thankful. Cheezy, I know but I really did. I have much to be thankful for. I live in a beautiful place and I have a great job with amazing colleagues. I have the best damn friends anyone could ever have. I was raised in a loving home with incredible siblings who I'm still very close to. I have incredible kids who adore me for some unkown reason. Is it perfect? Not by a long shot but the ~~shit~~ stuff (trying to swear less, potty mouth that I am) I have to deal with is pretty minor when you look at the big picture. Plus, I have great people in my life who help me wade through the ~~stuff~~ shit. (Sorry; I like swearing way too much).

So, Thanksgiving. I think maybe I just really like having a day once a year when I have the luxury of taking a moment to remember all the things that are great about my life. Plus, I really love stuffing. :)

(Randy and the 'Brats du la Brats a la Brats' eating Thanksgiving dinner)

Nemesis

2010-10-01T22:11:00.000-07:00

Before I start telling you about my nemesis, I must apologize for missing September on my blog. My new lofty goal was to blog at least once a month. I failed. Already. *sigh*

Onwards.... to the little fucker I hate. Anyone who lives where I live will know what I'm talking about. My friends from afar won't have a clue. I'm talking about the Western Conifer Seed Bug (Leptoglossus occidentalis) a.k.a. 'the stink bug' (thanks for the official name, Tammy O!). I hate them. H A T E. As a rule, I don't hate. I'm not a hater by nature. Stink bugs? I hate.

Looks harmless? I'm sure it does.... but it's evil. They dive bomb you. They like hair. If you try to catch them, they release a smell (something like rotten bananas). I woke up in the middle of the night last week to one crawling up my back, underneath my shirt. Insta-awake. Jumping around the bedroom, crazy hair, wild eyes. Turning the light on, trying to get it out from under my shirt only to suddenly smell THE SMELL. A-a-a-r-r-r-g-g-g-h-h-h-h. Yeah. Try to get back to sleep after waking up to that at 3:00am.

Now y'all might be thinking I'm a wimp at this point, however there are a lot of them. Jack capture some in a jar tonight; it took him about 20 minutes to catch them and he caught about 30 of them. Inside the house. Here's what I've come to understand this week....

(Jar O' Stink Bugs)

Stink Bugs turn Suze into

(New fridge Magnet courtesy of my dear friend Sue)

I actually caught myself looking forward to snow so that it would end the stink bug reign in my house. I didn't think there was anything I hated more than snow....

* This blog dedicated to cute little Margie Simpson who thought Barb and I were joking about the existence of stink bugs. Careful checking your mail in the next week, Mah... I have a jar with your name on it. Mwah ha ha ha ha.

The Adventures of Horatio L. Cheeky

2010-08-08T20:55:00.000-07:00

Horatio L. Cheeky

Readers, meet Horatio. Horatio and I have had a love/hate relationship going ever since I moved into Shangri-La. There are many squirrels that live in the woods near my home but Horatio? Well, he's 'special'. Horatio is an alpha male who thinks he owns at least 17 square miles surrounding my house. For some reason he does not fear me.

Each morning I sit out on the deck to enjoy the view of the lake and the mountains with my coffee. I love the solitude. Horatio views this as an overtly hostile maneuver on my part. Usually he perches as close as he can on the tree nearest to where I'm sitting and chirps at me like a machine gun. I give him my best withering 'Susan' stare to no avail. Eventually, I jump towards him and yell and he reluctantly leaves. The other day he upped the ante and climbed high in the tree and began throwing pine cones at me. No, I'm not making this up. He really did.

So, here's where the story gets really good. Every morning I open up both my front door and the patio door to let the morning breeze flow through the house. It's wonderful. Last week the real estate agent called to say that she planned to show the house later that day and I wanted to do a quick vaccuum before leaving for work. I opened the doors then went downstairs to get the vaccuum cleaner. As I walked upstairs, vaccuum cleaner in hand, what do I see? Horatio. In the middle of my kitchen floor. I glared. He looked at me with a glance that said "Ah.... you're in my house, Bitch." I put down the vaccuum cleaner and walked towards him. Nothing. He actually looked away from me as if he was bored.

I knew that escorting Horatio out of the house was going to take a bit of time and I pondered the situation because I really didn't want to be late for work. Would the prospective buyers prefer a perfectly clean floor or a house without a squirrel in it? I decided that a squirrel-less house would likely be best. So-o-o-o-o out came the broom (yes, the same broom that I used to chase Percy with last year) and Horatio and I went to war. Fifteen minutes later he was out on the deck and the doors were closed up tightly.

I even made it to work on time.

(When I told my friend Mike about my cheeky friend, he decided to name him Horatio. The 'L' stands for Leonidas. Of course it does.)

Oh, so pretty!!!

2010-08-07T23:51:00.000-07:00

Did I mention that Sue-of-the-fabulous-cheese is also a graphic artist? I asked her if she would spice my blog up a bit and she did. Ta-da!!! I wrestled with it on my own for about an hour and wasn't happy with the results so I asked her if she would take a peek at it. Four minutes and 27 seconds later she had it finished and I love it.

My favourite colour is yellow. Sunshine makes me happy so that's the only explanation I have, really. I love the yellow-ish-ness of it!!! It's also kind of bubbly and exuberant.... like me, no?

Mike asked her "Are you doing pro bono work again?!!". I replied "Hey! I don't let people bring me amazing cheese without a cost, you know. Sheesh."

Such a diva, I am.

Gasp

2010-08-07T22:32:00.000-07:00

Yes.
*Gasp*
That is the sound you will here if you are near any of my followers when they open my blog to see that I've actually posted. I seem to go in spurts.... and once again, I forgot my login user name and password which is a CLEAR indicator that it's been w-a-y too long since I've posted. Thank you for not giving up on me! It's been 3 months since my last post (I had to put it in tiny letters because of the shame I feel) and once again, so much has happened during that time.

Some of the Blind Bay Bitches came to visit me here at Shangri-La and it was fantastic. MyBarb, Claudette, Aleia, Tamara and Sandy showed up with enough food to supply us until 2012, booze (of course) and pajamas. It was so wonderful to have them here; they have all welcomed me with open arms into their world and it delighted me to reciprocate that hospitality. It was a fabulous weekend of laughter and relaxation and I have no doubt it will become an annual event.

My Beloved Seeso organized the Second Annual Halcyon Hotsprings Girl Weekend and I met some great women from Nelson. Is it possible to have too many girlfriends? I think not. Again... food, booze, pajamas and laughter. So good for the soul.

Are we seeing a theme here, people? I do love my girlie-friends. Ah do. Another hint; Sue and Mike are here pampering me and I have blogged TWICE in the past 12 hours. Pampering Suze = Blog Posts. Uh huh. Think about that next time you complain about my lack o' posts, haters!

Nirvana. No lie.

2010-08-07T17:38:00.000-07:00

I've blogged about my friends, Mike and Sue before. I met them through my brother Darryl and they've become good friends of mine as well. I blogged about them when they came for a brief visit last year and this year they decided to come for a longer visit. I'm in heaven. Holy cats.

Mike and Sue are two of the most generous people I know. They arrived with gifts for the kids. Thoughtful gifts that really indicated that they knew my children and really understood them. Valued them. Celebrated them. They brought me a book (yay books!) and..... cheese. Cheese. Cheese-zilla. Not no-name cheddar. Oh, no. Cheese from Quebec. From France. From Spain. Triple cream cheese. Goat brie. Blue cheese. Now here's the interesting part; Sue doesn't eat cheese but she knows how to buy it and how to pair it properly with wine and port. It's entirely possible that my two favourite things on this planet are cheese and books. Did I mention how much I love Mike and Sue?

Yesterday I came home from work to Sue in my kitchen cooking a beef tenderloin with a pinot noir sauce. Oh. My. God. Mashed baby potatoes and a butter lettuce salad. Mike has been painting; he's a talented artist and has been sharing his gift with Gigi. The two of them are very funny together and have a great banter that has kept us all entertained.

Today? Good music. Good food. Great company. Relaxation. Being around Mike and Sue reminds me that art and literature and music are a big part of who I am. Their company feeds that part of me and it feels really, really good.

Below is a picture from their first night here; port and blue cheese. Heaven. I could get used to this.... Frippeneno, I could get used to this!!!

Sheesh

2010-05-28T22:45:00.000-07:00

come·up·pance (kmpns)
n.
A punishment or retribution that one deserves

So I'm in Blind Bay for the weekend, visiting Barb. We have a weekend of relaxation, movies, popcorn and general sloth-ish-ness planned. We watch 'PS, I love you'. Everyone I know who has seen this movie assured me that I would sob like a baby when I watched it. I didn't. Didn't even shed ONE tear. Further evidence that I possess a cold little black heart.

After the movie we decide to have a dip in Barb's new hot tub... the hot tub where I was entertained by Barb and her raccoons. Lucky for me, there were no raccoons tonight.... there was, however... a noise. A big noise. Crashing in the forest. The sound of something perhaps climbing a tree and breaking huge branches on it's way up. Something that sounded easily as big as a bear.

I screamed. Barb laughed. More crashing. More screaming... more of Barb laughing. I did what any sane person would do. I stood up in the hot tub, shook my fist in the general direction of the forest-crashing and yelled "The power of Christ compels you!!!!" At this point, Barb is howling... she can barely breathe, she is laughing so hard. Ugly-face laughing.

Yeah.... I totally deserved that, didn't I?
Sheesh.

Hot Tub Trauma

2010-03-14T13:54:00.000-07:00

I simply have to share this with y'all.

Last night I was on the phone with myBarb. She was in her hot tub and was taking great pleasure in pointing out the fact that SHE was in a hot tub and I was decidedly NOT in a hot tub. Lucky for me, karma is alive and well and nailed her right between the eyes.

We were chatting away happily when suddenly she starts completely freaking out. Screaming and going bananas. B-A-N-A-N-A-S. There are two raccoons in a tree about 20 feet away from her and they are staring at her. "What should I do? WHAT SHOULD I DO???" she screams in my ear. I, of course, am laughing so hard that I literally can't respond. "Stop laughing at me!!! What should I do?!!!" she howls. Now, you need to understand. The racoons are 20 feet from her. The sliding glass doors to her house are about 5 feet from the hot tub. I can't stop laughing. She's making them out to be blood thirsty demons with fangs when they are, in reality, 2 very cute racoons who are very likely rendered immobile out of fear from her screams.

Once the ruckus died down and she was safely ensconced in her home, she asked me where I thought they would go. I told her that they likely had a lovely nest built somewhere very nearby to which she replied 'Fuck off!'. Being the good friend that I am, I thought I should research this a bit for her. Her's what I came up with;

"Raccoons tend to be solitary. In populated areas, raccoons often choose to make homes in chimney flues and attics. They seem to be the perennial, nightly raider of the suburban garbage can. Mating season for the raccoon is at its peak in February and March."

From this information I can assume the following.

The nest they are building is likely in her attic
It's March, so these creatures that are usually solitary must be mating since there was a pair of them
Soon Barb will have a wee family of them living in her attic

Now, to her credit, Barb has come a long way. When she first moved from Calgary to Blind Bay, simply seeing a moth in the house evoked this exact reaction in her. No I'm not kidding. Not exaggerating even slightly. Give her another 5 or 6 years and I have no doubt she'll be an intrepid mountain woman, killing cougars with her bare hands.

Barb, you are a never-ending source of entertainment for me. Love you!!!
(In the midst of her screams last night, the one sentence that I did manage to get out while laughing was "I am SO gonna blog this!!!)

Re-set

2010-03-08T20:08:00.000-08:00

So.
The past 2 weeks have been pretty rough. I was already feeling burned out in general... then was hit with a bit of a doozy. I was kind of hanging by a thread and was really, really, really looking forward to a conference in Vancouver paired with a bit of vacation. Originally I planned to go solo, but at the last minute it worked out that my Brats came with me. Here are some of the highlights thus far:

Jack and Gigi on their first flight; so cute.
A visit with my friend Randy in Kelowna
Time with my Beloved Aunt and Uncle, Emil and Sheila
West Vancouver; 'nuff said
A walk on the beach with my Brats
A Conference that is turning out to be excellent

Now, I know that money can't buy happiness, it really can't and I KNOW that, but. Yeah, but. When I arrived to check in at the hotel where my conference is being held, I was asked if I wanted to upgrade my room. An extra $30/night that includes internet (a $15 cost/day regardless), breakfast, evening appetizers in the Concierge Lounge and a view of the harbour. Did I hesitate? Even for a moment? No way in hell. "Yes, please" is what I said, as fast as I could.

I went up to my room and almost started to cry. A King-sized bed, and a curved wall of windows overlooking the harbour, the entire length of the room. (See photo above!) I quickly changed into walking clothes and found out where the nearest liquor store was in order to secure a bottle of port. Last night I sat cross-legged on my king-sized bed with a glass of port in my hand, watching the lights of the ships in the harbour. I was grateful; I did not take this moment for granted for even a second.

Special room: $90 extra for 3 nights
Lovely port: $29.00
Feeling like my 're-set' button has been pressed? Priceless

When they learned that I wouldn't be coming to Vancouver alone, Emil and Sheila agreed without hesitation to take the Darling Brats for me while at the conference. Emil and Sheila have plenty of their own shit to deal with right now, but in spite of that (and SUPER-in-spite-of-that, Sheila is a grade 4 teacher and was no doubt looking forward to a peaceful Spring Break...) they graciously welcomed us into their home and even appeared genuinely excited to have my children full-on for 3 nights while I basked in Marriott-like bliss. This is family. This is love.

I write this as I sip a glass of Merlot in the Concierge Lounge; the sun is setting and the lights of West Vancouver are beautiful just across the harbour. (I can hear Emil at this point saying "Ok, ok.... now you're just rubbing it in!") I went for a long walk along the seawall on my lunch hour and did the same this evening after my last session. I can't help but wonder if it's the "re-set button" effect that has me taking care of myself or the fact that I've pampered myself a bit and feel worthy of it. I pondered this for quite some time during my walks today.

I feel ready to take on the world again. Before I left for Vancouver when I was at an especially low and fragile (and quasi chin-quivering) point, my friend whose name rhymes with 'Barb Vincent' gave me a virtual smack upside the head and said to me "Smarten up!!! You're stronger than this!"

Turns out she was right.

Yay Vino!!!

2010-02-21T11:17:00.000-08:00

I love wine. Lerve it. Luff it. M-m-m-m-m-m......

It may have something to do with the French blood that flows in me, thanks to my Mom. For me, drinking wine has always been synonymous with laughter and female bonding. When I was young, I remember watching my Mom and her sisters visit in our livingroom while drinking wine. There were six of them and they were a vivacious group free spirited French gals. My grandmother (their Mom) definitely laid the groundwork for that dynamic.

I'm currently working with some folks on a project where I live to establish whether or not this region is conducive to growing grapes for winemaking. I'm really excited about the project and the potential for it happening where I live. I've met some great people and through those connections was invited to be a judge in a wine competition in a community close to where I live this weekend. Free wine drinking, you say? Count me in! It's the first time I was able to drink wine before noon and not feel guilty about it although having to only taste and spit out the wine felt a bit like a crime against the universe.

Being a wine tasting judge was a riot. Seriously! I may have actually coined a few new wine-tasting terms such as 'floaty bits' and 'yummy'. The wine was all home made and some of it was very good. Afterwards there was a potluck dinner and about 60 people from the village came out for it. There was something really magical about it.... the palpable sense of community in the room was incredible and I felt truly honoured to be there.

There was a band playing made up of local people and it really added to the sense of community spirit. My girlfriend Cindy told me earlier in the week that her husband was going to part of the entertainment that evening. I told her that when she used the term 'entertainment' I was picturing Murray in assless chaps, however he actually wore jeans and was the drummer in the band.

I've been a bit of a hermit lately; cocooning in my home and loving it.... but last night reminded me how important it is to connect with people and the value of living in a small community. Tonight I look forward to sipping a glass of red that I'm actually allowed to swallow!

Fridge Magnets

2010-02-12T21:50:00.000-08:00

Ok y'all.
I just have to share something funny with you.

I briefly mentioned in an earlier post that I had a suitor who didn't like my fridge magnets so I politely sent him packing. Seriously. It sounds like a small thing but my fridge magnets really represent a big part of my sense of humour. Appropriate? Not so much but neither am I.

Mybarb and I were yapping on the phone the other night and she was updating my pathetic "don't-have-television" ass on what was happening on The Bachelor. Apparently it's down to 4 women and one of them withdrew from the show because she didn't want to give up her job for this man. I expressed indignation that she wouldn't quit her job for a man who showed such potential to which Barb replied "This from the woman who won't even take her fucking fridge magnets down!"

Touche, my good friend.

Now while I understand what she's getting at with this cheeky comment, I just have to say that humour is so very important to me and I'll defend that position with my last breath! (Ok, somewhat dramatic but you get what I'm saying....). I think you need to see my fridge magnets, dear internet, in order to fully understand what I'm trying to explain here. People either clearly think they're funny.... or really, really don't. So, for your entertainment and viewing pleasure, I present 'Susan's quasi-obscene fridge magnets'.

I'm guessing that you've figured out by now that I love all things 'retro'. If I won the lottery I think I'd buy the Brady Bunch house. I'm not kidding. I have a couple of other gems (non-magnet variety) that are absolutely hilarious and have a total retro, kitschy feel to them. I'll do another post soon telling you all about that.

Please; if you happen to see a fridge magnet with the same theme as those shown above, send it to me!!! There just might be a jar of homemade antipasto in it for you.....

See, Dear Readers?

2010-02-12T21:10:00.000-08:00

Well? Did y'all notice? (My American friend is no doubt laughing at the increase in my "y'all" usuage). Check out the new math....

Increased Comments + No Spam = Tons O' Bloggin'

I may even break a record in February for the most blogs/month on Suzeville. And February is a really short month!!! Can you tell I'm a little bit bored? I have ramble-itis. If I do say so myself, it's kinda cute when I do it. All the girls from work are collectively rolling their eyes in this moment because they are SICK TO DEATH of me saying that phrase.

Sample:

Shori/Margaret/Tana/Darcy: "Susan, did you forget to submit your stats this month?"
Susan: "Why yes. Yes, I did. But it's cute when I do it."

You get the gist. :) Cute, no?

.... and another thing....

2010-02-12T21:00:00.000-08:00

Let me make myself perfectly clear, people. I do not have another packrat. Ted and I did not catch a whiff o' packrat smell when we came in the house yesterday and I certainly did not just hear packratty noises in the ceiling a moment ago. Just wanted to share that with y'all.

Ok? Are we clear on that? Just checking.
*sigh*

Sauce du la Sauce a la Bang Bang

2010-02-12T17:32:00.000-08:00

So my Beloved Seeso and her hubby just moved into a new house and needed the couch back that I was borrowing from them. The nerve.

I put out a plea on Facebook:
"Does anyone have a sofa they want to sell? My sister has the nerve to want hers back. Sheesh. :)"

Here were the responses:
Kevin Dereniwsky: What happened to the nice one I gave you?
(Yeah.... 7 years ago!!)

Claudette Tower Dowler: You better find something soon, or I'll be sleeping with you and Barb at our weekend to the Sharngri-la... and I like to sleep in the nude :)
(The Blind Bay Bitches are coming for a weekend here at Shangri-la in March. Batten down the hatches.)

And then? I heard angels singing.....

Ron Scott: We are selling our couch and love seat that you love so much. If you're still interested 250.00 for the pair.
(Ron and I worked as paramedics together. Yay Ron!!)

So, all I had to do was pick them up at Ron's place. Easy, right? Yeah.... right. I asked my friend Ted to help me. He has a truck and just LOVES it when I ask him to take care of the 'blue jobs' at my house. Ted is also known as: Saucy-sauce, Saucey Bang-Bang, Ticka-ticka or Teddy. You know that person who you can call on pretty much anytime you need something, no matter what? Help moving, leaky faucet, $50 bucks, bail money at 2:00am (haven't needed that yet....), Ted is one of those guys who is always there.

Teddy is pretty much the male version of me and is like a brother. We laugh our heads off. We can talk about almost anything and usually do on a fairly regular basis over a bottle of wine. He's been such a good friend to me and I feel pretty lucky to know him. He's a free spirit and insists on living life on his own terms no matter what anyone thinks. I admire that in him.

The moving of the couches ended up being far more complicated than I could have ever imagined. Ted dug in and worked hard until the job was done for the paltry pay of a shared bottle of red and some Hawaiian pizza. Thanks, Teddy. You da bomb!

(Teddy on the deck last summer giving me his infamous model pose.)

Grrrr....

2010-02-07T12:12:00.000-08:00

Sorry folks.

You know how on certain websites you have to type in a combination of letters and numbers in order to proceed and how they often look like arabic and you get all sorts of frustrated because that-fucking-3-looks-like-an-E-and-how-am-I-supposed-to-know-what-it-says??!!!

That process is to block spam and I've been getting all kinds of spam submitted in the form of comments on da blog. It pisses me off. No, I don't need to know how to make my penis larger, thank you very much. I don't actually have a penis and if I did, I certainly wouldn't want to learn about making it bigger on here. Sheesh.

The worst part? I get SO excited when someone leaves a comment on a post that I've written. I know that makes me shallow and juvenille, but I don't care. So... when I receive the notification email telling me that someone has left a comment on a post that I've done I get all bouncy and excited only to find out that it's some asshole that is asking me if I want to learn a secret on how to please my partner in bed. Yeah. I don't have a current sexual partner, THANK YOU VERY MUCH.

So I apologize, dear readers. You will have to endure the arabic gauntlet to now leave me a comment. Please don't let that deter you, because as most of you know, I'm a rather exuberant gal who enjoys getting all bouncy and excited. I really do love your comments so please continue to leave them. No, actually. Leave more!!! Your comments inspire me to be more prolific. Yeah. That's it. So to my Blind Bay Bitches (who complain loudly that I don't post often enough....), I'll start posting more often once y'all start leaving me comments!!! So there. :)

Sex and the City

2010-01-28T13:51:00.001-08:00

I love this show. I love Carrie Bradshaw. I LOVE Big. I love shoes. I have never been to New York but I love New York. I love my girlfriends. And you know what? After being a cynic for most of my adult life, I think that I'm actually starting to love the idea of love. Romantic love.

My favourite episode of SATC is when Carrie goes to Paris (I originally said 'Russia' but a kind reader corrected me to remind me that it was actually Paris... thank you, kind anonymous reader!) to be with Aleksandr Petrovsky. (*sigh* My biggest high school crush EVER was on Mikhail Barynshykov. Seriously. I digress.) I have two favourite scenes from that episode.

The first is when Carrie comes back unexpectedly from Paris and goes to the place where she has Saturday morning breakfast on a regular basis with Samantha, Charlotte and Miranda. The girls aren't expecting her and when she taps on the window to capture their attention, they go crazy when they see her. Bat-shit crazy. I have seen my girlfriends do that. It's incredible. The other scene from that episode that captures my heart is when Carrie is on the floor of the hotel hallway, heartbroken and just simply 'done'. She crying and defeated when she looks up and sees 'Big'. There is a look that she has on her face; it's a look that's reserved for him and him alone.

That melts my heart.

Ok. Now for some fun. A few great SATC quotes to make you smile!

Carrie: I am someone who is looking for love. Real love. Ridiculous, inconvenient, consuming, can't-live-without-each-other love.

Carrie: Maybe the past is like an anchor holding us back. Maybe, you have to let go of who you were to become who you will be.

Carrie: Maybe some women aren't meant to be tamed. Maybe they need to run free until they find someone just as wild to run with.

Carrie: Somewhere out there is another little freak who will love us and understand us and kiss our three heads and make it all better.

Samantha: [to the girls] I think I have monogamy. I caught it from you people.
Carrie: Now it's airborne.

Miranda: [on finding out she is pregnant] WHY didn't I use a condom?
Carrie: You didn't use a condom?
Miranda: He has one ball, and I have a lazy ovary! In what twisted world does that create a baby? It's like the Special Olympics of conception!

Carrie: Man may have discovered fire, but women discovered how to play with it.

Stanford: I can only stay a few minutes. I got tickets to the Vagina Monologues.
Carrie: Why?
Stanford: Just because I don't eat at the restaurant doesn't mean I can't hear the specials.

Eloquence

2010-01-14T09:50:00.000-08:00

I have tried and tried to come up with the words to explain the past 2 years of my life. I've come close; I've written pages and spent hours in my own head coming up with just the right way to explain it. I received a quote from a friend today and when I read it, I felt like I'd been hit over the head with a baseball bat.

"...and the day came when the risk to remain tight in a bud was more painful than the risk it took to blossom..."

~Anais Nin~

Shazam. Thank you Anais Nin... and thank you, my friend for sharing this quote with me.

Blogging In Real Time

2010-01-10T01:12:00.000-08:00

The Blind Bay Bitches (BBB's).

Barb (of course), Holly, Claudette, Diane, Tamara, Aleia, Steph and Monica. A surprise party.

I thought that Barb and I were going to have an innocent night of movies and cream cheese in our pajamas. I had the pajama part right. Barb and I went into town to pick up a few supplies and to watch Jacob's hockey game. She decided we needed ice. And kahlua. And appetizers. Did I clue in that there might be a party in the works? N-o-o-o-o-o. We arrived home to vehicles everywhere.

It was a suprise pajama party planned by the BBB's (Claudette and Barb especially). Of course this was the first time EVER that I forgot to bring pj's to Blind Bay. WTF??? I posted on facebook that I needed pj's and sent out a plea to the BBB's to bring me a pair. The response? Nothing. NOTHING. I was perplexed and a bit sad. Where was the love?!!!! Barb made me go to Zeller's to buy some (so that I would have them for the party), warning me that I would regret it later if I didn't. Did I catch on at that point? Nope. There were other reasons motivating her for that, but I won't get into that right now.

When Barb and I walked in, all the girls were in their jammies. Laughter, fun and girl bonding; the usual with these lovely ladies. I'm blogging in 'real time' tonight which I've never done before. Holly and Claudette (thanks for bringing the tequila, toots!) are staying overnight. They are all giggling and cleaning up the appies (read: eating) as I write this and they are a bit nervous about the blogging I'm doing at this moment. No need to be frightened, girls. Not until Holly posts the photos on facebook at least. Then I will hijack them and post them here for my readers reading pleasure. (Mwah ha ha ha ha.....)

Stay tuned for more!! Thanks, my Blind Bay friends. Love you to bits. Thank you for always making me feel so loved and welcome.

Love Letter (Part 2)

2009-12-29T07:00:00.000-08:00

As I said in the previous post, a love letter can come in many forms. This is one that I received over 8 months ago but I've saved it and I read it often.

People who know me very, very well know that when I'm struggling, I withdraw. They don't receive phone calls from me. When they call, I don't answer. I avoid everyone as I curl up and lick my wounds. Another quirk that my inner circle is aware of is the fact that I'm a total cry baby during a chick flick or a long distance commercial, but when it comes to serious matters of the heart, I'm Margaret Thatcher.

When my marriage was at it's absolute worst and I was close to making the decision to leave, I had been avoiding My Barb because of both of the above reasons. This is the email that I received from her.

Ok my friend, what can we do to pull your life outta the terlit?
I can't believe you are avoiding me so you don't cry. I thought we talked and agreed crying is good. As you know I usually perceive things as all about me. So I was starting to think you just didn't want to talk to me.....

You can not avoid, avoid, avoid. It won't make anything better.... all it will do is cause you to be living in limbo, miserably living in limbo.

I can only imaging how tuff it is going to be to make the decision you need to make. But please don't make yourself sick by not moving forward. You are a strong, amazing woman who is a great mom and very intuitive in regards to her children's needs. They too will be fine. Please don't avoid me cause you're gonna cry.... just fucking cry dammit. That is what we do for each other. Don't be changing up the rules now.

I won't tell you how much I luv ya because I don't want to upset you.... know that I am here and when you are ready you know how to find me.

We will get through this together... one way or another.

I can't tell you the impact this letter had on me. When I read "We will get through this...." I knew that everything was going to be ok. Barb didn't say "YOU will get through this....", she said that 'we' will. I wasn't alone and I had people who would support me while I made the most difficult decision of my life.

This letter also helped me to be less of an ostrich during times of trouble. Why go through it alone when you have people like this in your life who want to support you? Sheesh.

Love Letter (Part 1)

2009-12-28T19:19:00.000-08:00

There are many kinds of love letters that a person can receive. Tonight I opened my facebook inbox to find one from my daughter. I asked for her permission to put it on my blog because it warmed my cold little black heart in a way that I can hardly begin to describe. Here's what she wrote:

Mom,

When you write to me, it makes me feel so loved. Just the words you say make life so much more enjoyable. In your writing, you pass on emotion. I cannot wait to see you. When I say this, I speak for the family. You are the glue that keeps us together. For the 5 of us. Then the Aunts, Uncles and Grandparents, even for the people that aren't family. You keep family and friends together! Anyways, I just wanted to let you know how special you are.

It's incredible that she wrote this to me. Being the organizer/mother hen was the role I played in my family while I was growing up. In the past year as I made significant changes in my life, I withdrew from that role and my brother Darryl has let me know that my absence was palpable. This note from Gigi reminded me that while my 'hiatus' was necessary, it's time for me to get back in the game. I miss my sibs and we seem to be more cohesive when I'm doing my bossy-sister gig. I think they actually like it too.

(Picture of my two favourite women in the world; Gigi and my Beloved Seeso.)

I know, I know!!!!

2009-12-13T21:54:00.000-08:00

Yes, it's been awhile since I've blogged. Thank you Barb, for reminding me. (Over and over and over again.) Barb hasn't been the only friend who has nudged me on this topic, just the most persistent one. When I logged in to the site, I wasn't sure if I remembered the password so I guess she may have a point. Please understand just how painful it is for me to actually admit to that.

My last post was on September 6th and so much has happened since then. I've been to PEI and to Vegas. I've attended a Pirate Party hosted by the amazing Don and Tamara. Snow has fallen and I'm now walking up and down my driveway; Shangri-la is definitely more appealing in the summer time, let me tell ya. I hosted a girl-party last weekend and we ate and danced and laughed which is always so good for the soul. (Yay girlfriends!)

And? I've started dating. Yup. Dating. What a bizarre world that is. I've met some really nice men and some not-so-nice men. It's a steep learning curve but such an adventure; I can honestly say that I've learned something from each of of these men and that can only be good, right? One has ended up becoming a good friend and my sounding board for dating (Hi Randy!). Another didn't like my fridge magnets (buh bye). I'm not in a hurry to find a partner and I really am content on my own.... but as Randy reminds me, we're not meant to be alone. I'm trying hard to be in the moment and to move forward with my new life and for the most part it feels pretty damn good I must admit.

Soooo.... I will post some pictures of the hinjinx from the past 3 months (Yes Barb, I did feel shame in writing that sentence. Mission accomplished.) and I will do my very best to be a bit more consistent with my posts. I really do appreciate that y'all enjoy my blog; thank you so much for that. I am truly grateful to have such amazing friends in my world. See you soon!

Crazy dancing women. 'Nuff said.

Downtown Charlottetown, fall day, mid-afternoon. Nirvana.

Toughest Blog Ever

2009-09-06T10:09:00.000-07:00

How do I write this post?

Today I want to write about a friend who is very private and shy. I've mentioned her before on my blog, but only in passing. She knows this particular post is inevitable and has given me direction; nothing sappy or sucky. Period. So.... I'm trying to figure out how to respect her wishes while conveying what her friendship means to me. (Geez... that sentence probably already crossed a line into her 'sucky-free' zone).

I've mentioned before that my two closest friends are both named 'Barb'. They couldn't be more different. As we all know, Barb Yule LOVES to have her name in neon lights on my blog. Barb Vincent (Barbent)? Cringes at the thought.

I met Barbent when she first moved to town. We were at meeting and she was asking about the local services and wanted to know if there was a library. Library, you say? My ears perked up immediately and we started talking about books. Off we went and we didn't stop until another person at the table suggested we might want to go for coffee so that the meeting could get back on track. So, we did and the rest is history.

I don't know how to describe Barb. She's shy and bold. Quiet and hilarious. Soft and strong. A walking contradiction. We are ridiculously alike. During the past two years she has been an incredible source of support for me as my marriage imploded. She never once told me what she thought I should do; however she did say "Something has to happen. You can't just keep spinning your wheels." She was right.

She makes me laugh (til we both snort). She calls me on my shit. She asks the hard questions. She makes me watch 'The Bachelor'. She stalks me when I'm overwhelmed and I withdraw into my cocoon, ignoring the phone and the world around me (which is my modus operandi). She's an amazing friend and we don't get too many of those in this life.

She's moving to Regina. Today. We went for dinner last night, the two of us with her wonderful, patient partner, Norm. LDR and Tim joined us too and we had a great time. Tons of laughter and great conversation. I tried to pretend it was just dinner, not the last dinner. Today I went up to the barn where she and Norm were loading the horses into the trailer before leaving. I almost missed them and we stopped on the side of the road to say goodbye. Impossible to pretend this time. I will miss her more than I can tell you and Nakusp feels like such a very lonely place today.

(Not too sucky, right? How did I do??)

Done!

2009-09-06T10:03:00.000-07:00

Just to be clear;
#1 Packrat - Priscilla
#2 Packrat - Percy

How do I know this? Because I caught Percy and he was MUCH bigger (and stinkier... sorry fellas) than the first one. He was far less agreeable to the whole 'getting caught' process as well.

I'd like to believe that I'm done with trapping critters. Some friends laugh when I say this. They believe that there is an entire family (with in-laws and cousins) living here or at least nearby. I set the trap again last night, just in case. No packrat this morning.

I'll be sure to keep you posted.
*sigh*

A Conversation

2009-09-04T21:55:00.000-07:00

So, Suze... it's Friday night! What are you up to?

Well, dear Internet, I'm setting a trap for a Packrat.

Good heavens, Suze. Why would you do such a thing? You already caught Percy!

Why yes. Yes I did already catch Percy. You're absolutely correct.

Then why on earth would you set the trap again? Is this a new hobby for you?

Oh, no!! *chuckle, chuckle, chuckle* Silly, Internet. It's not a new hobby for me. I'm setting the Packrat trap yet again BECAUSE I HAVE ANOTHER FUCKING PACKRAT LIVING WITH ME. How do I know this? Because I found a previously unopened package of crackers on the floor of my laundry room with a big FUCKING chewy-hole chewed in it. Not a delicate little mouse chewy-hole, a big Packrat chewy hole. Remember our "Is it a Percy or Priscilla Packrat" debate? Yeah, try Percy AND Priscilla.

Oh. Oh, dear.

Yeah. "Oh, dear indeed."
********

I was clearly in denial.

My friend Barb (Barbent, not Mybarb) said "Susan, I think you might have another packrat..."
To which I replied, "No. No, I don't. I only had one and it's gone."

My son Connor said, "Ma... the packrat you caught isn't the same colour as the one we saw the other night...."
To which I replied, "You must be mistaken, Connor. Perhaps it was the light."

Wish me luck. Mybarb is dying to have a critter of her own and has asked me to relocate the packrat to her house. I plan to happily oblige her. Karma, Baby!

Percy is Pissed!

2009-08-30T22:59:00.001-07:00

Seriously people!!!

Look at his cute eyes. His cute little fingers. His bushy little tail!

Everyone; meet Percy.

(I can't get used to Priscilla. Just can't do it.)

Since I had no success for 2 nights in a row with the trap, I decided to do a little googling. The general consensus seemed to be that peanut butter was the best lure, so I put some on a cracker, tucked it into the cage and set the trap. I turned the lights off, came into my bedroom and was sitting on the edge of my bed, setting my alarm clock for the morning when I heard 'wham'! I assumed that I simply hadn't set the trap correctly and went to reset it.

The second I entered the kitchen, Percy went bananas.

B-A-N-A-N-A-S.

It was like the cage itself was alive. I grabbed my camera (thinking of y'all and the photos I promised) and laid down on my stomach on the floor. I started talking to him and he settled right down. I guess he's used to my voice. He was very curious about the camera and the noises that it was making but went about his business, eating peanut butter and trying to plot his escape.

At the moment, Percy is in his cage in the garage. Driving up a logging road in the dark at 11:00pm on a Sunday night didn't seem like the smartest choice so he'll stay there until I finish work tomorrow and I'll do the release then.

I know I sound very calm and brave at the moment, but of course after I discovered him, I immediately called my friend-who-doesn't-want-to-be-named-in-my-blog (still rhymes with 'Barb Vincent') and left her a hysterical voicemail message. I have no doubt that she will laugh hysterically when she listens to it. I bet Percy would LOVE to move in with Barb.... she has a nice horse trailer that would be perfect for him.

So. Percy 3, Suze 1. I'm not confident enough to claim victory just yet.... little Houdini could still suprise me when I open the garage door tomorrow.

To be continued....

sigh

2009-08-29T09:45:00.000-07:00

0945 hrs.

Trap door triggered shut, no packrat in it.

Percy-Priscilla 3 Suze 0

0418 Hrs

2009-08-29T04:15:00.000-07:00

Almost asleep... just on the verge when I hear 'THUNK'.
My bleary mind thinks "Oh, must be Percy."
Suddenly my eyes are wide open, remembering the 'live trap'.
Then I groan, remembering the Priscilla potential.

I head for the kitchen, turning lights on as I go.
There on the kitchen counter is the trap with the door closed.
There beside the cage (no, not inside) is Priscilla-Percy.

Priscilla-Percy 2 Suze 0

Oh. My. God.

2009-08-29T03:39:00.000-07:00

So, Connor requires a ride home from Fauquier at around 12:30am. No Percy sightings yet and I'm surprised; I usually see him buy this time of night. Off to Fauquier to pick up Connor, home at 2:00am. I come into the house, certain that Percy will have been captured, but alas, the cage is empty.

I haven't seen Connor in over a week, so we sit on the sofa to talk and catch up. I hear a noise. Outside. Huh? The windows are open and who shows up, climbing the screens? Percy. Outside the house.

Connor goes to open the patio door and I holler at him to stop. Don't let Percy in!!! But Ma, how will you catch him in the cage if he's outside? WTF?? I'm going to let a packrat INTO my house so that I can catch him in a cage? I decide to leave Percy outside when he climbs onto the screen again.

Connor watches Percy then says "Uh... Ma?".
Oh, God. I see it too. Mother of God, I see it too.

Percy has nipples. Big nipples. Percy is Priscilla.
And Priscilla is either about 7 minutes from giving birth or has a litter of critters somewhere.
(I refuse to say it. Don't make me say it.)
No wonder Priscilla is going bananas at my window screen trying to get INTO the house.

0348hrs.
Priscilla 1 Suze 0

The Plot to Pinch Percy the Packrat

2009-08-28T18:16:00.000-07:00

Operation Capture Percy has commenced. At approximately 1630 hrs the 'live trap' was procured.

Subsequently, a shiny object and apple remnants were placed carefully in the trap near his favourite spot in the house (beside the bread basket and the shiny coffee maker).

Countertops were bleached (yet again - packrat feet.... ugh) and will obviously be bleached again upon capture.

ETA for completion of Stage 1 of this mission: 0200 hours. (Nocturnal little mofo). Updates to follow once fugitive has been secured. Photographic documentation for the purpose of helping people understand just how cute he is and why there is no way in hell I can drown him (advice from practically every male I have talked to in the past 3 days) to follow as well.

Gustafson out.

**Postscript: I am ridiculously proud of myself for setting this contraption up all by myself. Yes, Ray (the fella who is lending me his trap... thanks Ray!) had to explain it to me FOUR times, but still, I did it!!!

It's Official.

2009-08-28T11:18:00.000-07:00

War has been declared.

Percy ate my caramilk last night.
Nibble on my bread? Kinda cute.
Steal my cherries? Who could blame him?!
Eat my caramilk? Mess with my chocolate?!!

You've gone too far, Percy my friend.
You've heard the saying "Don't rub another man's rhubarb"?
Yeah, well you don't ever, ever come between a woman and her chocolate.

The live trap arrives tonight.
Once he is my captive, I will take pictures for you all to see.
If you've been nice to me this year, you're safe.
If not?
Guess where Percy just might be released?

To be continued......

Claudette

2009-08-26T15:29:00.001-07:00

Please meet my beautiful friend, Claudette. If you don't mind, I'd like you all to take a moment, close your eyes and send positive thoughts her way. Notch Hill in Sorrento (just outside of Blind Bay) is on fire and the fire is now only 1 kilometer from Claudette's house. She and her family have been evacuated and there is nothing I can do to help other than to let her know how much I love her and that I'm thinking about her.

I met Claudette through Barb in Blind Bay. As you know, I love all of the Blind Bay Bitches but Claudette and I connected through tequila so you can imagine how powerful that bond is. (Seriously!!) She is my Sista, my friend and an incredible woman. I'm concerned for her but not worried because I know how strong and positive she is. She will forge ahead and be just fine no matter what happens.

When my marriage ended, I received an email from Claudette that I clung to; I still read it often. Her words were wise and calmed me when I felt like everything was spiralling out of control; she reminded me of my own strength and now I have the chance to remind her of hers. You are an amazing, positive, strong, compassionate, feisty broad, Claudette. You're gonna be just fine.....

(Group hug for Claudette!!!)

Suze Vs. Percy

2009-08-26T02:26:00.000-07:00

(Left: What a packrat really looks like and Right: What I think a packrat looks like)

Tonight, I went to bed and read for a bit (ok, a long bit). Harmless one would think, right? Not so much. I was reading peacefully when suddenly I heard a noise in the kitchen. Being the intrepid country girl that I am, I went to investigate.

There on my countertop, happily eating my cherries (that I just bought today, thank you very much) was a packrat. A PACKRAT. Now, I suspected that I might have a packrat living with me (and anyone who reads my blog knows this isn't the first time I've encountered this particular bit o' fun) but I was happily in denial until this point.

I looked at him. He looked at me. Then he carried on eating my cherries. So I did what any rational person would do; I yelled a very bad word ('Motherfucker' to be exact - sorry, Aunt Gay) and grabbed my broom. Cleverly (or so I thought) I opened the screen door to the deck and the chase was on. I tried to gently guide him (read: "beat") him towards the open door. He decided that going under my sofa was a much better idea which is hard evidence that this creature is likely smarter than I am. I stuffed the broom under the sofa and he took off again with me chasing behind him until he decided to go downstairs. No way in HELL was I following him. It's dark down there and being a nocturnal creature, I decided that he likely had the distinct advantage at that point.

I needed moral support so I phoned one of my friends who doesn't want to be named in my blog (it rhymes with 'Barb Vincent') to tell her my tale of woe. She laughed. She laughed and laughed and laughed. She told me that we should name him (Percy the Packrat, no less) and that I should just think of him as a small cat. Uh huh. She thinks this is a spectator sport. Tomorrow night she wants to come over and see him.

I had just finally calmed myself down when the wee bugger made a second appearance. A second appearance! I had put everything that resembled food away securely in the hopes of thwarting his thievery, but this time he decided to eat the flowers that my Seeso left for me. I liked my flowers!!! More broom action, less swearing. Back down to the basement he went.

I hate to admit it, but.... he was cute. Not just a little cute. Really cute. Imagine a squirrel, but about 4 times larger. Seriously, how cute is that?? Tomorrow I will find a live trap. I think I know a guy who has one. Aaarrrggghh!!!

Maybe Barb needs a 'small cat' at her place.....

Ok people. I just got up to pee and what do I hear? Skittering. In the kitchen. The lights go on again only to reveal the not-so-cute-anymore packrat with a guilty look on his face. I forgot to take the bread out of the bread basket. Yes, on the counter. Round 3. Broom in one hand, dustpan in the other. Wild look in my eyes. Medusa hair. Terrified packrat. Behind the microwave? Oh, no mister, I can get you there. More packrat terror. More wild-eyed Suze. He finally regains his composure and finds his path downstairs again. Seriously people. It's 3:26am!!!! Grrrrr...... perhaps I can find a less humane trap in town tomorrow. Like, say... a weapon. Ninja thingies. Whatever. I'm in. If you see me in cammo with a crossbow slung across my back in the next day or two, best not to ask any questions.

Mike 'n Sue

2009-08-22T14:26:00.001-07:00

Meet Mike and Sue.

Mike and Sue are very close friends of my brother Darryl and I have hijacked them from him. I kid, I kid!! (Sorta). As Sue assures me, she has lots of love to go around.

I met these wonderful people last October during our annual 'Barth Sibling Weekend'. They were very gracious and didn't stay long, not wanting to interrupt the sib bonding, but they really wanted to pop by to meet Darryl's clan and I'm so glad that they did. Sue and I clicked immediately. You know when you meet a person and you think "Oh, yeah. THIS person I could really like..."? Exactly.

After meeting them in Calgary, Sue and I kept in touch periodically via email or now and then by phone but not often. A couple of weeks ago she called to touch base to see how I was doing (she'd heard through brother Dare about recent changes in my world) and then she called a few days later to say that they would be in BC and asked if it would it be ok if they came through Nakusp to stay the night? Hell, yes!

They arrived with amazing cheese and brilliant wine and a gift for me -- one of Mike's paintings that Sue had framed; a prairie landscape, my favourite. Anyone who knows me well knows that I collect prairie art. (See it above? Do you see that incredible sun?? I just love it.) Such an unexpected and much, much appreciated gift.

Within minutes of their arrival, Mike had a beer in hand and his watercolours unpacked and was out on the deck painting a landscape. It felt so comfortable and so.... right. They took me out for dinner (thanks again for the great meal, my friends) then we came home and ate the cheese and wine they brought. Let me stop here. This wasn't mozarella and Lonesome Charlie, ok? Seriously. Sue hates cheese but my God she knows how to pair it with wine. The purpose of their BC excursion was to purchase wine from a winery in Kermeos that they enjoy and it was a little sliver of heaven, let me tell you.

Connor sat up with us and we talked and listened to music into the wee hours. They introduced us to a great cd... the name of the artist escapes me at the moment, but man was it good. Very angsty and raw. Mike and Connor talked about guitars and it was so great to watch my boy connect with this incredible couple.

It's been a summer of fun and surprises. Challenges and painful growth for me and for my children. Having people like this in our life makes that road so much easier to travel. See you in December, my friends...

Gracie and the Shuswap

2009-08-22T11:27:00.001-07:00

Holy Cats.

Does it get much better than this?? I went to visit Barb (the second that David's plane left for Siberia, as per usual) and was really needing some down time. We had a fantastic time laughing, eating, drinking and enjoying time on her deck, but the highlight was a day out on 'Gracie'.

'Gracie' is a boat owned by Don and Tamara, good friends of Barb's who have taken me under their Blind Bay wing. When I was moving , these kind folks sent a sectional sofa over for me to have. Seriously, who does that? Don and Tamara are simply good people. Kind, fun loving, excellent people. They are a great couple... spending the day on the boat with them was such a treat and being around them reminded me (and my cynical brain) that it is possible to find love again.

It was a sunny day on the Shuswap and Don drove us all over the place for hours. The poor bastard was the only rooster in the hen house so of course, we had to make him wear a bikini top. He was such a good sport about it but did spend a rather uncomfortable amount of time fondling his bikini top. He claims that spending the day on the boat with a bunch of tipsy women was a very educating experience. I think he may have learned more than he ever wanted to know about what drunken women talk about.

My Blind Bay Sista, Claudette joined us later in the day with a bottle of tequila. (I love you, Claudette!!!) Now, 'Gracie' has a potty on board. No lie. There is a trap door that you lift and it creates a curtained off area for privacy. Claudette decided to use the facilities and was in the curtained area when the boat started rocking, causing the trap door to close. Oh. My. God. All I could see was the trap door slowly closing with Claudette inside and her cute little head peeking out the top with a look of horror. Funny? Oh, yeah.

It was a wonderful day of relaxation, laughter and simplicity. When you are out on the water in the sunshine, nothing else exists. No worries, no anxiety. It was just what I needed.

In the pictures above, you can see me with Barb as we enjoy our day on the boat. You can also see Don and Tamara... yes, Tamara is my age but looks like a teenager. If she wasn't the sweetest person alive, it would be easy to hate her for this fact. Don and Tamara have an annual 'Talk Like a Pirate Day" party. I'm attending this year and you can guarantee there will be a lively blog post about that particular event! Thanks for an amazing day, my friends. You're the best!!

Mysterious Girlie Bits

2009-08-22T10:48:00.000-07:00

So.

I had to have a small day surgery done this week, yes... on my mysterious girlie bits. Too much information? Likely, but how much fun is it to say 'Mysterious Girlie Bits'? Seriously.

Since I live in a small town, travel is an essential part of any medical procedure that needs to be done. Luckily, I only had to drive to Nelson (only 2 hours away) so I was able to leave the night before the surgery and stay with my beloved Seeso. In typical Suze fashion, I packed the agenda very tightly. My surgery was planned for August 20 which also happens to be Bridget's birthday so I organized a birthday dinner for her that was combined with a going-away party for Connor's good friend Jaimee who leaves for university soon. Yes, a dinner party for hungry teenagers combined with packing to leave for a surgery right after dinner. Oh, so smart.

As per usual I was running around like a maniac which almost always leads to trouble; and it did. While cooking I managed to burn my hand , quite badly. (Yes, Susan... the burner was hot. You didn't REALLY need to touch it to know that.) A blistering burn at the base of my thumb. By the time everyone was fed and I was packed and ready to go, I was feeling pretty fragile. A burn, surgery and saying goodbye to my Gigi; I have never been away from one of my kids on their birthday. Neither of us was handling it very well.

I was hugging Bridget while holding a frozed juice container in my hand, trying to cool the burn when the tears began. With a vengeance. I cried. Bridget cried. We clung to each other and cried our eyes out. Not my best parenting moment, but unavoidable.

I cried on the drive to Nelson just from feeling completely overwhelmed but it was good. I don't cry often and Barb loves it when I do. She firmly believes that I should do it more and she's probably right. It felt so good to just cry.

Sooo.... I arrived in Nelson and Seeso helped me set up a pot of ice water beside my bed. I slept with my hand soaking in it all night and it was much better by morning. Off to surgery at 7:00am. I was late because Karen and I started chatting and lost track of the time. (Sheesh.) I was convinced that since my surgery was so early in the morning, I would easily be able to drive home that night. HAH. Not so much. I was completely gorked from the anesthetic and had some lovely conversations on the the phone that I have absolutely no recollection of.

So now I'm home in my bed resting and recovering, letting my body heal. I have always pushed myself hard, but as I get older my body pushes back. Time to listen.

Three things before I finish this post:
1. Student nurse + Learning to start IV's = Ouch and bruising.
2. Yes, I know you are all grateful that I didn't include a photo to go along with my 'Mysterious Girlie Bits' entry.
3. Barb is going to love how much I blog while I'm incapacitated. I'm afraid that she will like it a bit too much and will go to great lengths to ensure that it happens on a regular basis. Once I'm healed and back to normal, if someone breaks into my house and breaks my kneecaps, I want everyone to know who is first on the list of suspects.

Gorked But Happy....

2009-08-21T00:35:00.000-07:00

Yes, here it is. A blog post, finally. Now Barb can leave me alone.

It's been a bit of a whirlwind the past few months. There have been no shortage of topics for blogging, but it's been insane. No lie. Some of the upcoming posts you can look forward to in the next week are (I'm listing them so that I won't forget... and again, perhaps it will get Barb to stop nagging me):

Mysterious Girlie Bits
Brother Glen and my Introduction to Port
Brother Darryl and His Support
Mike and Sue
Gracie and the Shuswap
Moving. Again.
My-Friend-Who-Shall-Not-Be-Named-Who-Is-Abandoning-Me

I will be blogging quite a bit in the next while (the reason is related to "Mysterious Girlie Bits") so please check back and thanks for not giving up on me! My reason for being gorked is also related to "Mysterious Girlie Bits". Thank God most of my readers are women because I can guarantee that any male followers I may have had are now going to avoid this site like the plague simply to avoid having to read that particular post.

See you all soon. Seriously. (Barb, stop rolling your eyes at me. Sheesh.) Are y'all grateful to not have to look at my big, hideous sty now everytime you open this page?

Oh, So Pretty....

2009-07-05T10:44:00.000-07:00

Another stye.
WTF???
Seriously people. This is the second one this year.

Yes, I know that there are bigger problems in the world.... war, people starving, Jon and Kate divorcing (tongue firmly planted in cheek) but c'mon! These little suckers hurt.

On the bright side, the sun is shining, my brother is coming to visit (Yay Glen!) and I am otherwise healthy and happy. It's Sunday morning and I'm sitting in my jammies enjoying a delicious cup of coffee and my darling Brats should be arriving soon which makes me very happy indeed.

Ok. I feel better.
Stupid stye.

Well now.

2009-06-21T01:02:00.000-07:00

Holy Cats.

It's been a long time since I've posted, hasn't it?

Well, much has changed since my last message and I've been pretty busy with rearranging my life but I'm b-a-a-a-c-k.

Since my last post, my marriage has ended. I've moved out and have set up a new home with the help of my amazing friends. I have absolutely no idea how I would have made this transition without their help, love and support.

Here's what I did to set up my new house: nothing. I kid you not. I managed to put my back out lifting a bag of dog food out of the back of my van the morning of the move. Of course, no one believed me but they let me boss them around anyway. Here's how it went.....

Sara and Braden (Barb's kids) loaded up a trailer full of furniture from Salmon Arm and drove it here for me. A six hour round trip for gas money and lunch. Amazing. Thank you.

Pam and Judy unpacked and set up pretty much everything. I kid you not. Because of them, I sit on my couch in the morning drinking my coffee and looking at the view. Had I been in charge of setting up the furniture, the back of the sofa would have been against the windows with a view of a lovely red wall because of the way my linear brain works. Pam and Judy... I think of you every morning. Thank you.

Seeso and her hubby made this beautiful place available for me where I can look at the lake and lick my wounds. I love you forever. Thank you.

Tamara, Barb, Mike and Val, Pam, Barbent and Judy provided furniture and kitchen supplies for me. My children have beds, I have a diningroom table and there is a killer sectional in my family room because of you folks. Your generosity leaves me speechless. Thank you.

Teddy made me laugh when I needed it most and took care of all the 'blue jobs' on my list of things to do. Saucy, you're a little sliver of heaven. Thank you.

Claudette sent me an email full of words of wisdom that has grounded me and kept me looking forward. You are one in a million, girlfriend. Thank you.

Denise sent a book for me that has helped me to see this journey through a completely different lens and it has given me so much strength. I owe you a glass of wine on my next visit to Blind Bay, sweetie. Thank you.

Shori and Tana have promised to stock my spice cupboard. Soon, my food will not taste bland! Thank you.
The girls at work (Shori, Margaret, Tana, Darcy and Shannon) along with my boss, have been incredibly supportive. Thank you for understanding.

Maverick reminded me throughout this time that I am strong. I needed that reminder often and I am forever grateful to him for that. Thank you.

Barb, who has always been around whenever I have needed her, came. She came because there was nowhere else on earth she would have been on the weekend when I made this leap. She unpacked and talked and made me laugh... and she was here. I honestly can't imagine my life without you, my best friend in the world. Thank you.

If I have forgotten anyone, please forgive me. I am, without a doubt, one of the luckiest people alive because of the wonderful people in my life. The future is scary and exciting and daunting and unpredictable. With support like this, I feel like I can face anything.

Bring it on.

Jack-the-Lou

2009-05-14T10:55:00.000-07:00

This is my Jack. I've wanted to blog about him for a long time but it was important to me that I capture him accurately; not an easy task with this complex, wonderful fella.

Jack will be 13 years old in a month and of my three children, time seems to have gone more quickly with him. Jack is not the classic middle child; he is gentle and demands almost nothing of anyone. He goes with the flow and has such a practical nature. Because he is so quiet.... hold on. Quick clarification here. He is quiet everywhere in the world other than home. At home? Non-stop entertainment, energy and talking. Holy Cats, this boy can talk and he is so very funny. It's rare for a day to pass where Jack doesn't make me laugh until I cry. But I digress .... because he is so quiet and is sandwiched between to very extroverted, vivacious siblings, it would be easy to miss out on the beauty that is 'Jack' (Just Jack!). That doesn't tend to happen, however because there is something about Jack that draws people to him.

I have so much to say about him that my fingers on the keyboard can't keep up to my thoughts.... so I'm going to put it in bullet form.

Jack Facts

Jack didn't talk until he was 3. I'm convinced that the only reason for this is that he didn't really have anything he felt compelled to say until that point.

When he did start to talk it wasn't long before he was speaking in full sentences and conveying profound thoughts. One of the first sentences I remember coming from Jack was "Mommy? Do aliens believe in Homo Sapiens?" Huh??!!! Classic Jack. Commonly people ask one another if they believe in aliens. Jack, my little 'out-of-the-box' thinker saw it from a completely different angle.

As you can see in the photo above, Jack had a Mohawk last summer. Jack had been growing his hair out with a plan to have a monster Mohawk with liberty spikes. He didn't mention it to me until his hair was long enough to do it. People were so shocked because Jack is such a sweet, gentle soul and with the Mohawk, he looks like a rebellious anarchist. He loves the shock value of that contrast. He's considering Dreads next.

Jack is one of the funniest people I know. It's effortless for him. We both love 'The Family Guy' (I know, I know.... I'm a bad mother, but it's so freakin' funny!!!) and Jack can do a dead-on imitation of all the male characters. I'm telling you, you haven't lived until you've heard my boy mimic 'Herbert the Pervert'.

Jack is amazing with animals. He seems to have an intrinsic understanding of them and they in turn are drawn to him. We have 2 cats and a dog and they all want to sleep with him every night. Four beds in the house, but they all want Jack.

Jack can act. Who knew? This quiet, shy guy unleashed his inner thespian recently (in a musical, no less!) where he played a rebel Humpty Dumpty. He nailed it and people in the community were stunned and delighted to see this side of Jack.

Jack has big plans. In grades 3, 5 and 7 he had teachers who made a huge difference in his life (Thank you, thank you, thank you Mr. Johnston, Mr. Brellisford and Mrs. Leitch). Their influence in Jack's world has contributed to his desire to be a teacher..... but he also wants to see the world. He's decided that for him, there is no better way to see the world than to teach everywhere that he can. I have visions of Jack calling me (you better call your Mamma!!!) from the four corners of the earth, making me laugh with his funny stories. He's a determined soul and I have no doubt that he will achieve everything he puts his mind to.

Yes, I'm his Mom and I have to say it, but it's so true; the world is a better place because Jack Louis Gustafson is in it. How do you not love a guy who turns his brother's hoodie (see picture at the top of the page) into a chicken costume just to make his Mom laugh?? Love you, Louis!!!

Subtle Influences

2009-05-13T22:25:00.000-07:00

This is a picture of Connor when he was about 3 or 4 years old. I made him smile for the camera when all he wanted to do was play with his cousins.... hence the grimace. "Just get it over with, Ma!!"

I was telling a story to a close friend today about Connor when he was this age... my friend said "You need to blog that story!!!" and he was right. I really do, so here it is.

When Connor was around 4 years old, I had to take him to the Doctor for a check up. Connor loved Dr. Kelland and still does to this day. As we drove into town, he told me how excited he was to be seeing her. I told him "Connor, Dr. Kelland is away so you'll be seeing a different Doctor today." Connor asked "What's her name?" I said "It's not a 'she'; you'll be seeing a boy Doctor today." I could hear him giggling in his car seat behind me when he said "Oh, Mommy! Boys can't be Doctors!!"

When I told Dr. Kelland the story, she threw her hands up in the air and said "I can retire! My work is done!!"

Recently I was at a luncheon titled 'Women in Leadership'. One of the speakers was our (as of last night) newly elected MLA, Katrine Conroy. She spoke of her career journey and the stereotypes she's had to overcome as a woman who has worked in non-traditional employment settings. She's a pipefitter, for cryin' out loud. When she started working in that field, the plant she worked at didn't have a women's washroom.

At the luncheon, I told the group of women the story about Connor and the Doctor's visit. I told Katrine how I appreciated the path she's chosen and what a difference just her presence made for young people and their perception of what it means to be a politician..... and a woman.

When I was growing up, I was asked "Do you want to be a teacher or a nurse?" Those days are long gone and there is something wonderful about the fact that young women now have no idea just how recently women had such limitations put on them.

You've come a long way, baby..... :-))

Seeso

2009-05-03T10:42:00.000-07:00

This post is about my beautiful, sweet, intelligent, funny sister. It's entirely possible that she is my favourite person on the planet. Most of you know her as 'Karen' but to me, she is 'Seeso'.

Karen is 2 years younger than I am and I simply cannot imagine what my life would be like without her. In this picture, she is 2 and I'm 4 and we've just woken up from a nap. I still remember our Mom taking this picture and I also remember how warm and tiny and yummy she felt beside me under the blankets.

Growing up, Glen and Darryl were 'the boys' and Karen and I were 'the girls'. Karen was always my little shadow and my built in best friend. We slept together for many years in a double bed. My thrifty Mom had sewn two single fitted sheets into a double fitted sheet and there was a seam down the center of the bed because of it. If Karen slid so much as a toe across that line, I was yelling for Mom, tattling that Karen was on MY side of the bed. When my parents renovated and I finally had my own room, I spent more than one night stuffing dolls and clothing in my bed so it would appear that I was sleeping in it in order to sneak into her room to sleep with her.

Growing up, we had the normal fights that sisters have over clothes being borrowed without permission, chore distribution and make-up (yes, I did steal your fabulous blush brush; it's in my make-up bag as I type this!), but we have always been very, very close. I don't remember when it happened, but there was a very clear moment when she went from being my 'little sister' to being my 'seeso'. I'm still very, very protective of her but only because I love her, not because she is younger than me or requires my protection.

Karen is a person who is liked by everyone. She's always smiling and is so kind.... but the formidible Pelchat-woman spirit is firmly planted in her soul too. Karen has always amazed me with her ability to have very clear boundaries and an ability to say 'no' unequivocally when she needs to. I have learned so much about that from her.

Although we were close growing up, I was always surprised at how different we were. I saw the two of us a polar opposites and was always a bit sad that we weren't more alike, however as we grow older, the similarities are becoming more obvious... shockingly so actually. We laugh alike. We have similar mannerisms. We use the same phrases. We both have crazy green eyes. We think alike in so many ways and it's such a wonderful feeling to have someone in the world who sees things in a similar way. She makes me feel like less of a freak somehow.

When I moved to Nakusp, I knew I had to lure her here. I helped her to find a job and once she found a man, I knew she was mine for good! She lived here for 15 years then found a job in Nelson. At first I didn't believe her and once I realized that she was serious, I ignored her. I wouldn't talk to her. I wasn't mean.... I just needed to detach and build a little wall around my heart so that it wouldn't hurt quite as much when she left. She assured me that we would see MORE of each other once she moved, something that I thought was completely ridiculous. Our offices were across the street from each other for God's sake! But.... she was right. We see far more of one another now that she lives 2 hours away from me and our visits are much more intimate. We are closer than we've ever been.

Karen understands me. I can tell her anything.... anything and I know without hesitation that she won't judge me, no matter what I say. She loves me unconditionally and is always there me, as I am for her.

I love her ferociously and I'm grateful every single day of my life for the gift of my Seeso.

(In the above picture, Karen has just finished a sambucca shooter that was lit on fire while inside her mouth. I kid you not. She may look like a sweet little lamb but there is a very kooky girl under all of those curls.)

Karma

2009-04-28T18:28:00.000-07:00

Main Entry: kar·ma

Pronunciation: \ˈkär-mə also ˈkər-\
Function: noun
Etymology: Sanskrit karma fate, work
Date: 1827

: the force generated by a person's actions held in Hinduism and Buddhism to perpetuate transmigration and in its ethical consequences to determine the nature of the person's next existence

My sister is a beautiful, amazing, intelligent woman, but she is also very lucky. No, not just lucky.... horseshoes-up-her-ass-cushioned-with-a-bouquet-of-four-leaf-clovers kind of lucky. I went to Nelson on the weekend to visit her and to take a friend out for a birthday dinner. We had a really nice time having dinner, shooting pool and dancing. Throughout the night, Karen misplaced her cell phone a couple of times... her work cell phone. However, she always managed to find it up until the end of the night. Nope. It was nowhere.

The next day we went to town shopping and checked everywhere for it. We retraced our steps but it was nowhere to be found. Karen was a bit worried, but she said "It will turn up. That's why I don't have to worry about my stuff... it just always works out."

I received an email from Karen today. Here's what it said, in a nutshell:

"Guess what happened with my cell phone?! I went to work and confessed that I'd lost it and my boss told me that she ordered a new cell phone for me last week and that it had arrived. She said not to worry about it at all. Then, two hours later some nice person showed up at the office and returned the one I lost!"

The only explanation I have for Karen's good karma is that she was the equivalent of Mother Teresa in her past life. (Ok, and is a total sweetheart in this one.)

Yeah.

Wanna know what happened to me this week? I was walking and blew my knee out. Not power walking, not diving in front of a train to save a small child... no. Just walking into Tana's office to say 'hi'. I didn't twist my knee. I didn't fall. I just took a step. A normal fucking step.

Explanation? I was the equivalent of George Bush in a past life. How do I know this? Because I think I'm a pretty decent gal in this one. (There are people who would disagree.)

Holy Cats. Honestly. Karma.

Brats

2009-04-26T21:41:00.000-07:00

My Babies.

One of my favourite things to do once spring arrives to to drive down to the beach with the kids and Doc and just explore. The little ones (Jack and Bridget) find rocks and treasures while Connor and I walk along the shore, talking and throwing the stick for the dog.

Not a big blog post today... just a little note to keep Barb happy (a.k.a. 'shut her up') and to show how great a simple Sunday can be.

If anyone can help me come up with a method for making Jack smile in photos, there is a margarita in it for you. So far, the only thing that Connor and I have come up with is to whisper very inappropriate things in his ear. I'm not necessarily against that, but it would be nice to have an alternative for family functions.

Blind Bay Bitchiosity

2009-04-21T21:24:00.000-07:00

I know, I know. You're very likely sick of hearing about Blind Bay, but this is a gooder! (I promise....)

It all began when I decided to show my gratitude to Barb's friends in Blind Bay by cooking a dinner for them. They have been so kind to me and so welcoming that I wanted to do something nice for them......

Before I go too far, I just need to say "HOLLY".

(Holly has a dream of being mentioned in my blog. As you can see from the previous sentence, she obviously has low expectations and is easy to please. That's why she's an excellent friend for me.) Holly was renamed "Hannah Montana" on this crazy Blind Bay weekend. I believe it was because of her great hair, but you'd have to ask Shawna to be sure about that one. But I digress.

The weekend started out when I arrived at Barb's on Friday night at 1:00 a.m. I travelled from Nakusp to Blind Bay via Osoyoos. No, I'm not kidding. Long story. The next morning I was beyond excited because I had a surprise for Barb. I love surprises. (Giving, not receiving). I was in cahoots with the infamous Shawna who is one of Barb's best friends ("Why you gotta go and be like that?"), arranging for her to come in for the weekend from Calgary. Barb was a bit suspicious so I had to play it very cool, something I am not very good at.

We drove into Kamloops to go grocery shopping and I told Barb that I had to pick something up at the Kamloops airport for my boss and pretended that it was a completely pain in the ass. After she drug me up and down every single fucking aisle in the dollar store AND the love shop, we finally left for the airport. Shawna had been texting me like a madwoman, wondering where we were. Finally, we arrived at the airport and as we pulled up to the front, I saw Shawna. I said to Barb "Oh, look! I don't have to go in. My package is outside waiting for me." At this point, Barb spotted Shawna. Ok... have you ever seen a small dog pawing at a car window to get out? Yeah, that was Barb. There was screaming and jumping and howling and more screaming. It was a pretty fantastic moment.

We grabbed Shawna, then ran around and did some shopping (already laughing so hard that we couldn't even speak in the grocery aisles and even entertained our fellow shoppers) then hit the road for Blind Bay. Somewhere on the road between Kamloops and Blind Bay, I managed to convince myself that my Blue Minivan was actually a Cherry Red '67 Mustang. Foreshadowing for a delusional and very funny weekend.

That night we played a civilized game called 'Sociables'. There is a picture floating around somewhere of me with a beer box on my head (with holes for my eyes, nose and mouth) and there are now reasons why I don't want to ride in Barb's boat. Needless to say, it was a very interesting game. We ended the night by crawling into the matching 'Tinkerbell' jammies that Shawna bought (thanks, Shawna!! I'm wearing them tonight as I type this), then all three of us crawled into Barb's king-sized bed. As you can imagine, there was a bit o' laughter at that point.

Saturday, we lazed around, laughed and cooked. The big dinner was that night and this was the menu:

Bruschetta
Crab/cream cheese stuffed mushrooms
Caesar Salad
Ravioli stuffed with brie in a tomato/alfredo sauce with garlic grilled chicken
Death by Chocolate

As you can see, I tried to shamelessly bribe these women to be my friends.

Dinner, drinks, laughter. We celebrated four birthdays (Aleia, Steph, Holly and Diane) and had a fantastic time. We each wore a tiara, danced until the wee hours and a fabulous time was had by all (even Holly; her DUI bracelet didn't seem to bother her at all that night).

Claudette (Holy crap, I love Claudette) was good enough to drink tequila with me. I don't know what it is, perhaps a genetic flaw... but I LOVE tequila. I'm so happy to have found a friend who enjoys it as much as I do, although sometimes her love is scary. There are some things that are better left unexplained.

Tamara, Denise, Rona, Jen and Val were there too dancing and laughing and putting up with me trying to make them play charades. What a great bunch of women! Diane came back over the next morning and made us eggs benedict. Eggs Benedict!!! Now THAT is a fabulous girlfriend, I tell ya.

My daughter left a message for me on facebook that weekend. She asked: "Mommy, are you having fun? Are you laughing until you are snorting and crying? Then you are having fun." I love that she understands. I hope she is lucky enough to experience the sisterhood of friends that I have been so lucky to be part of in my life.

Blind Bay Bitches; here's to you. Thank you so much for welcoming me into your world and treating me like one of your own. Love you, girls!!

Girlfriends

2009-03-14T14:33:00.000-07:00

At the beginning of March, I was lucky enough to spend the weekend with 6 fabulous women at a cabin just outside of Nakusp. Karen A is one of our gaggle and she did some rock work for a customer so he gave her the use of this cabin for the weekend in return.

It was a weekend of relaxation, laughter, amazing food and a drink. Or two. In addition to Karen A. and my beloved Seeso, (who is also 'Karen', hence the need to refer to Karen A as 'Karen A'.....) Louise and Andrea came in from Alberta, Kelly came in from Vernon and Teresa came in from Glenbank!! In typical chick fashion, there was enough food to feed an army. I'm not exaggerating. If we'd become stranded there, we could have easily survived for a week or two on the groceries that all the gals brought. We may have run out of booze and menthols, but food? We had plenty.

The first night everyone arrived and our good friend Ted (see the Christmas blog for more on this scalliwag....) was there to help us get set up and show us how to use the hot tub. This hot tub is actually fed by natural hot springs water, if you can imagine. The smell of brimstone conjured images of us as a coven I must admit and the last one in was always the "Hot Tub Bitch", meaning the last one in had to wait on us hand and foot. "Hot Tub Bitch! My drink is low!" or "Hot Tub Bitch! Warm my towel in the dryer!"

But, I digress -- back to Teddy. We essentially kidnapped him. We decided that we needed a rooster in the hen house and he stayed to dance with us until the wee hours and crashed on the floor. Can you imagine the sacrifice? Dancing in a remote cabin with 6 inebriated women? Such a giver, our Ted.....

The next morning we had a fantastic breakfast and went for a Snowshoe. Yes, snowshoeing!! This was my maiden voyage on these bits of shoe-wear so SOMEONE agreed to take us to a "flat" place. Let me just say that MY definition of 'flat' and a forest technician's definition of 'flat' are significantly different! It was a riot and I plan to ask Santa for a pair next year. The sun was shining and it felt great to get some exercise.

That evening we had another great meal and played 'naughty charades'. You haven't lived until you've seen my good friend Teresa act out the phrase "anal intruder". We laughed so hard and continued to giggle after going to bed. You know how you get the giggles and can't stop and pretty soon everyone in the room is laughing and no one knows why? There we were, in bed in the dark, giggling until we were crying. My belly hurt for 3 solid days. I wish I could laugh like that every single day for the rest of my life.

We have decided to make this an annual event. Next year, less food, more dancing and my very own pair of snowshoes. Yay! Chick weekends are my prescription for pretty much anything that ails you.

Thanks girls. Love you... can't wait for next year!

My Screech

2009-02-21T20:20:00.000-08:00

This is my Bridget.

The G. Screech. Gigi. Screechface. Dolly. Babygirl. She has many nicknames and has a dimension to her personality to match each name.

She is a delightful mix of 'tomboy' and 'girly-girl'. In the picture here, she has padded her clothing and is being a sumo wrestler. She is a tiny, wee thing, but make no mistake, this girl is formidible.

Ever since I was a teenager, I was convinced that I would have three boys. I just knew it. So when I found out that I was pregnant for the third time after having two boys, I knew for certain that the next one would be a boy too. My pregnacy with Gigi was completely different. With the boys I felt great. With Gigi I was sick and psychotic. I kid you not. Ask my sister. In spite of this, I was till convinced that I was carrying a boy child and when I finally had her and the doctor said "It's a girl!!" all I could muster was "It's a WHAT??"

I was terrified to have a daughter. Sons? They were easy. But a girl? I had no idea what to do. I was scared that I wouldn't be a good mom to a daughter..... but when they put her in my arms, I was in love. Immediately. She was pink and yummy and I adored her instantly. Bridget was such an easy baby and thank god for that. Connor (the psycho toddler) was 4 and Jack was 2 so I had my hands full already. She rarely cried and was just so content, especially when her brothers would talk to her.

There has always been a certain level of reciprocity in my relationship with Bridget. I remember when she was only 2, I was really sick and on the couch wanting to die. Connor and Jack were running around like maniacs ("I'm hungry, Mom.... Mom, I'm thirsty. Mom, can you put a movie on for me? Mom? Mom?!!!") while Bridget was pulling my blanket up to my chin and kissing me on the head. That's when I truly realized just how different having a daughter was going to be.

I love sharing the 'girly' moments with Bridget. I love braiding her hair in the morning before school. I love asking her if my outfit looks all right before I leave for work. I love talking to her about things that the boys in the house don't care about. We're like co-conspirators here on the farm. Momma and The G against the world.....

Bridget is ridiculously organized. If I can't find something, I know all I have to do is ask and she'll know where it is. She is smart and funny and kind and I love being her Mommy. When I imagine the future with G, I can picture us as women; as friends. I imagine sharing with her all of the things that I missed out on by losing my Mom so early in life.

Bridget is a Pelchat woman in the making, make no mistake. Feisty, strong, full of laughter. Her third name is Gabrielle (after Aunty Gay) and she's proving to live up to the moniker. Having Bridget was like receiving an amazing gift that I didn't even know I wanted. Lucky me.

Book Club Bitches

2009-02-20T00:29:00.000-08:00

Holy Dinah.

A few months ago, I was asked to be part of a book club in town. I have always wanted to be in a book club so I was pretty excited about it. The club was to be a group of 12 women who love to read.... 12 of us because the number is pretty manageable and also because that way, we can each have a turn to pick one book a year for the group to read.

Sounds pretty civilized, no?

R-i-i-i-g-h-t.

The first time we met, we all brought a book or two that we were hoping to choose for our month. I brought 'Lamb' by Christopher Moore, a hilarious book that invents a new gospel in the bible. Since there is nothing about Jesus from the age of 12 - 33, Mr. Moore thought that perhaps the gap should be filled. 'Lamb' is the gospel according to Biff, Christ's childhood pal. I absolutely love this book.

I wasn't sure if 'Lamb' was the type of book that the group would be into, so I also brought along 'The Vagina Monologues'. (Book club chicks like feminist literature, right?!) I really like this book as well... I like anything in this life that can evoke emotion in me and this book made me laugh and cry (actually, believe it or not, 'Lamb' did both as well).

Soooo.... when I presented my two options, one of the girls shouted out "Jesus and Vagina's??!! You are SUCH a lapsed Catholic, Susan!!"

"Oooohhh", I thought to myself. "I'm a-gonna like this group o' gals."

Since that night, I have learned more about all 11 of these ladies and I really, really like them. There is plenty of interesting conversation, and a lot of laughter as well. (Wine too. Let's not forget the wine.) Tonight was a little less cerebral than usual, but man, did we laugh. By the end of the evening, we had plotted a road trip in D's motorhome with the theme "Book Club Bitches Gone Bad". We're not kidding.

Smart, funny women.
Yummy food.
Good reading.
Wine.

It just doesn't get much better than that.

Sick Boyo

2009-02-17T01:38:00.000-08:00

Oy.
1:16 a.m.
I have a very sick boy on my hands tonight.

Amazing how a 15 year old young man still calls me 'Mamma' when he's unwell.
He won't be mine for much longer.... less than 3 years and he will be on his own, taking on the world. It's a privilege and an honour to be his Mamma and I delight in caring for him tonight.

And as I sit here, watching over him while I type to you, it makes me cry to think of the short amount time I have left with him. I am grateful for him, for his health, for his energy, his kind nature, his gentle spirit....but it went so fast. It's gone far too fast.

When he was just wee and I was up in the night with him when he was sick, it was just another night in a million (or what felt like it) that I would be up with him. Now, I know that time is short. This could be the last night I have this opportunity... to Mother him in this way and it hurts my heart.

I just poured a glass of water for him and rubbed his hair while he sipped it.
I told him to take his time and he said "You're such a good Mommy".
I bit my lip so that I wouldn't cry.
I said that I would sit with him for a bit longer until he fell back to sleep in case he needed anything.
He said "I really appreciate it, Ma."

I'm a lucky, lucky Mommy.
And I know it.

We be bloggin'

2009-02-06T16:31:00.000-08:00

I have to tell you that I just love blogging.

(Ok, in my mind I'm hearing Mybarb saying "Hmmm..... you'd think you would do it more OFTEN if you like it so much. She thinks I should blog daily.) This medium of expression is so good for my soul. When I start to write, I get into a zone and there is a flow that I can't explain. It feels right. It feels like there is nothing else in the world, not a worry, not a care. Just me and the words that are pouring from my fingers, onto the keyboard and to your eyes.

I have had some wonderful feedback to this blog and I'm really grateful for it. It probably shouldn't please me so much, but it does. The most common response I hear is that my personality really comes through in my writing and that delights me. Although I'm a very outgoing person, I'm truly an introvert (being outgoing and extroverted are two very different things) and I tend to hold my cards close to my chest in that regard. Writing feels like a release for me.... anyone who knows me clearly understands that there are certain topics that are off limits for me. My Mom and the pain of watching her disease process is one of them, but on my blog, it was easy to express. It felt so good to write about her on New Year's Day. I'm not sure if I ever would have spoken those words to anyone but writing them was effortless.

I've spent the past year striving for authenticity. I've tried really hard to live true to myself, not contorting my actions and thoughts to suit people's expectations of me. It's been remarkably healing and deeply painful. There are people who are no longer a part of my life because of it, however the genie is out of the bottle and there is no going back.... thank God. (Or the Goddess, whichever rings your bell). This blog has been instrumental in that journey and I want to thank everyone who reads it.... I appreciate your interest and your encouraging words.

Enough of that. I promise the next post will be a LOT more fun and lighthearted. Did I ever tell you about the time the murderer stored dynamite in my barn?

I'm just sayin'.

Pam. Pamma. Pamalicious.

2009-02-03T21:54:00.000-08:00

This is my Pam.

Where do I begin telling you about Pam?
I first met her at the Veterinary Clinic where she works and I liked her right away. She has an incredibly upbeat, friendly vibe and just immediately makes you smile and feel like everything is going to be ok. The first time I met her, I thought to myself "Ooooh.... I could be friends with this chick." My intuition was bang on and lucky for me, I can now call her 'friend'.

When my friend Caroline died, her hubby Didace was heartbroken but he knew that his great big heart had much more love to give. Enter Pam. It happened quickly for them and anyone who knows Didace well feels certain that Caroline had a hand in making this happen for him. Caroline and Didace's kids have welcomed Pam with open arms into their Dad's life and I have no doubt that it's because they see how happy he is with her. Didace is a complete fucking nut and Pam loves that about him. I also pay her well to stick it out. Feeding him every night was just getting too expensive.

Tonight I went over to Pam's place for a visit. I realized just what a truly amazing friend she is when I paused to think about what I was wearing.

Pink pajama bottoms
Blue hoody
Orange sweater over the hoody
Jean jacket
Sorrel boots
No socks
No bra (Too much information. I know, I know)

Tell me.... how many places can you show up looking like that and feel completely comfortable and at home? Honestly! Not only that, but I arrived with a bottle of wine tucked under my arm that Pam gave me a few weeks ago. It was a special vintage with the uber-classy name "Bitch". How do you not love a girlfriend who brings you a red wine called 'Bitch'??

Once Pam and Didace started dating, she and I clicked immediately. This was very important since I knew that with Didace being a big part of my life, anyone who he chose to spend time with would be too. (As you can tell, it's all about me). It took no time at all for me to give my huge stamp of approval to this new lady in his world.

In the relatively short time that we've been friends, Pam has been someone to laugh with as well as a shoulder to lean on. She has a huge heart and is rock solid. Didace is a lucky, lucky man and he knows it.

And...... once again, I am lucky and I know it. I have the most amazing girlie friends and I'm so, so, SO happy to have Pam as part of that looney crew.

Purring in Salmon Arm

2009-01-30T10:44:00.000-08:00

Ok, ok. I'm sure you're all sick of hearing about my time in Salmon Arm.... but I'm going to blog about it anyway. Y'all know how much I love it here with Mybarb. Just for future reference, THIS Barb is now called Mybarb. I have to differentiate because I have another wonderful friend named Barb who is now referred to as 'Copbarb', just to avoid confusion. I would love to blog about Copbarb but she would be mortified. So I won't. For now. (Mwah ha ha ha ha....).

So. This weekend is Mybarb's birthday. Barb loves her birthday. You know how some people are modest and prefer their birthday to go unnoticed? That is definitely not Barb. Right now, her status on Facebook says:

"Barb wants to remind everyone you only have 3 more shopping days til my BIRTHDAY!!!"

How could I not come help her celebrate? I'm mean really... I'm here for her, not for my own selfish reasons. Honestly.

In case you aren't completely aware of the reasons I love being in Salmon Arm with Barb, let me just tell you what the past 16 hours have been like for me.

When I arrived, Barb had a baguette with roasted garlic and warmed brie waiting for me.
I'm still in bed. It's 11:05 a.m.
There is a coffee with Bailey's in it on my bedside table.
I have laughed more in the past 16 hours than I have in the past 2 weeks

Barb and I don't buy Birthday/Christmas gifts for one another... we choose to give small, meaningful gifts throughout the year instead. But this year, I found something that just happened to be perfect and coincided with her birthday. It's the picture that you see at the top of this blog and the quote inside the frame says:

"Friendship is not a big thing.... it's a million little things."

And that's us. There have been a million little things over the past 20 years (God, has it really been that long??!!!) that have cemented this friendship and I'm grateful everyday of my life for it. The picture in the frame was taken at the end of an evening where we attended a girl party with the theme "Embrace Your Inner Whore". Yes, I'm wearing a wig. And, yes. We are both wearing false eyelashes. And really yes. We are rather drunk.

Happy, Happy Birthday Barb. I have no doubt that everyone will make you feel special on your big day, not because you're 'all that and a bag of chips'.... but because you demand it and they fear you. Love you!

Ouch. Missing my Mamma.

2009-01-01T15:23:00.000-08:00

January 1, 2009.

This year I had a quiet New Years Eve at home and really enjoyed the solitude. But, today is a tough one.

Today is the 3rd anniversary of my Mom's death and the first anniversary of my Sweet Caroline's death. Somehow I knew that Caroline was going to pass away the same day as Mom. Just knew it in my bones.

I've been wanting to write a blog about my Mom and today seems like a good day for it. The picture above is from when I was 15. We're sitting on the front step at 'home' and I can still remember how it felt to have my arms around her. Sorry for the crappy quality... I took a photo of this picture with my cell phone so the quality is lousy, but the love is still palpable.

My Mom was amazing.

I know, I know. Everyone's Mom is amazing.... but my Mom was such a Mom. She absolutely loved being a Mom and was so good at it. She read to us and found such creative ways to make all four of her children feel like they were the center of the universe. She was gentle and sweet.... you know the Mamma Kangaroo in Winnie-the-Poo (Kanga)? She reminded me of my Mom. The picture above is of my Mom with my brother Darryl. Do you see how much she loves her baby?!! Everytime my Dad took a picture, the flash made Darryl's eyes cross and Mom just loved it. (Isn't she pretty?!) I actually submitted this picture to The Globe and Mail for a Mother's Day edition and they posted it.

My Mom taught me so much, but the greatest gift she gave me was teaching ME how to be a Mom. Nothing is more important to me than being a good Mom to my brats and nurturing them has come naturally because of her legacy.

As I mentioned before in my "Aunt Gay" post, my Mom came from a big, wonderful French family. She was the baby of eleven kids and they teased that she arrived "once the bread was buttered", after the depression.

My Mom loved to laugh and did so often. She loved food and wine and every single one of my boyfriends fell in love with her. While growing up, our house was a place where everyone was welcome and my friends loved to be there.

My Mom was diagnosed with MS before I was even born. I don't remember her being healthy, really. I always wondered why she couldn't run and somehow it just seemed normal that she needed to rest every afternoon. By the time I was a teenager, she was using a walker and a wheelchair. By the time I left home, things deteriorated even further. I remember feeling a lot of anger about her disease. How could someone as sweet and kind as her end up with such a horrible fucking disease? How? In what world is that just or fair?

Mom was very, very practical. I remember learning about reincarnation in my early 20's and I really liked the concept. It made sense. I talked to Mom about it and I told her "You know, Mom.... maybe you and Dad have been together in a life before this. Maybe in this life, he needed to learn some lessons about being unselfish and having to care for another person. Maybe you chose this disease to help him discover that within himself." Mom took a second to think about it then said "I'd like to think I would have found another way." Touche Mamma.

I miss her today. I miss her so much but I wouldn't wish her back. At the end of her life, she was tube fed, catherterized and I could barely understand what she was saying. She lived in that state for the last 3 or 4 years of her life. She was so, so tired when she finally left us yet I never once heard her complain. This is not an exaggeration. Never once.

"How are you doing, Mom?"

The answer was always, ALWAYS "Great!" with a big smile. Even when this woman could not scratch her own nose if it was itchy, she would tell me that she was 'Great!'.

My Mom was so loved. She lived long enough to meet all of her grandchildren. She had so much in this life and I know she was grateful for all of it, but man.... I just really, really miss her.

To the right is a picture of Mom with my niece, Megan that was taken about 10 years ago; as you can clearly see, Mom delighted in being a Grandma. In this picture, Mom is in her wheelchair and the grandkids always loved sitting with Grandma in her chair. When Connor was 3 and Mom started having a lot of trouble with coordination in her hands, he would sit on her knee and feed her oranges. She loved oranges.... and he actually called her 'Grandma of the Oranges'. I have that on video.

I wish she was here right now so that I could ask her for advice. I wish I could hug her and smell her. I would give anything to hear her laugh again. Yes, I'm grateful that I was given such an amazing Mom, don't be me wrong. But I'm greedy. I want her back, healthy and laughing and playing with her grandkids. I want to shop with her and drink wine together and benefit from her practical wisdom. But.... that's not possible, so I will do my best to keep her memory alive and honour her legacy of love by passing it along.

Love you, Mom.

~~~~~~~~~

Marie Delvina Lillian Pelchat Barth (aka 'Lily')

August 10, 1940 - January 1, 2006

~~~~~~~~

Fun du la Fun a la Fun

2008-12-29T22:32:00.000-08:00

In spite of my Scrooge-ish-ness, I had a lot of fun this Christmas and it was uber relaxing. Yay! Who knew it could be this way?! My brothers both arrived a few days before Christmas and since they are both teachers, they were really, really, really (did I mention 'really'?) ready for the break. If you don't think that teachers deserve the time off that they receive, then my guess is that you don't know many teachers. They earn it. They need it. But, I digress.

Brother Glen brought his gorgeous, talented, funny, smart daughter Raelee with him and his feisty, cute, funky, delightful daughter Morgan stayed home with her Mamma. Bridget was in 'girl heaven' having Rae around and Raelee doted on my Gigi like the sweet big cousin that she is. (Bridget is to the left with her two favourite things in the world: Raelee and a telephone.)

Brother Dare arrived with his dog, Eclipse and there was plenty of barking, drool and general "dog happiness" between 'Clipse and Doc. We feasted and drank and feasted and drank and pretty much left the children to their own devices during the days leading up to Christmas. It was just such a treat to relax and enjoy each other's company. On Christmas Eve we were visited by 2 sexy, tipsy elves. The menfolk were pleased with this turn of events and the elves woke Jack up on the couch. I'm pretty sure Jack still thinks he was dreaming!

Christmas morning was pretty wonderful. The kids tore into their gifts and were pleased with all that Santa brought. Connor was horrified at having to wake up at 8:30 (but was pacified after unwrapping the video game that he wanted - see photo to the left!); Jack was horrified at having to wait until 8:30 to wake us all up, especially since he'd been awake since 3:00 a.m. (No, that is not a typo). The rest of the day was spent with more laughing, eating and relaxation. Seeso arrived in the early afternoon with her husband, Corey, daughter Dani and son, Aydan. I was so, so, SO happy to see her. Chick time with my Seeso was the icing on my Christmas cake.

Dinner was set for 15 people and Karen and I had a lot of fun cooking it AND eating it with our guests. Little Dougie Robinson (a.k.a. LDR) and my dear friend Shori (with her lovely beau, Tuscon) arrived just in time to eat. Shori chose to bring a bottle of Balvenie instead of contributing to the meal. (I luvs ya, Shori!) Friends, family, children, laughter, scotch. *sigh* Happy.

However, we all know that a gathering at Suzeville wouldn't be complete without.... DANCING! Oh, and did we dance. We moved the kitchen table aside to create a dance floor, turned up the music and off we went. I had the absolute pleasure of dancing the two-step with my brother Glen (Thanks, Glennie! Love you to bits....) as well as performing a very classy interpretive dance to Perez Hilton's 'The Clap'. I am grateful beyond words for the lack of available video equipment while that was happening, let me tell you.

To the right, there are two pictures of my friends and loved ones. In the top picture, Seeso, Dani, Ted and Jesper are shakin' their collective thang. In the bottom picture, they are demonstrating their ferocious model poses and I have to say that Ted wins the prize for that category. God knows he gets enough practice..... perhaps? (But Ted!!! Where are your pantalonies??)

This was an AMAZING Christmas. Traditional? Not so much.

Does it need to be? I think not.

Friends, family, food, laughter.

Sounds like the start to a pretty good tradition to me.

Happy New Year!

Ho Ho Ho....

2008-12-19T16:08:00.000-08:00

Now, I like Christmas. Christmas Day, that is.

I love lighting the fireplace and watching the kids tear into their gifts.... I REALLY love cooking the turkey and smelling it throughout the house all day long. I love a house full of family and friends, combined with plenty of laughter and relaxation.

I'm not crazy about the commercial bombardment that happens beforehand. I don't like Christmas music. (Bah, humbug.) I don't like the stress that accompanies family obligation or being nervous about spending a ton of money in a small space of time.

This year, my beloved sibs are coming for the holidays. I can't believe that I have a chance to see them again so soon after the BSW 2.0. (If you don't know what BSW 2.0 means, check back in the archives of my blog!) This means that there will be EXTRA laughter on Christmas Day which always makes me happy. Speaking of laughter, my friend sent me a great email about how Santa really wants to respond to the letters he receives from children. You know me by now. You know that if I'm laughing, it is likely inappropriate or politically incorrect, or both. This email is certainly 'both' and I just have to share it with y'all. Brace yourselves.

If Santa Answered His Mail Honestly.....

Deer Santa,
I wud like a kool toy space ranjur fer Xmas. I'v ben a gud boy
all yeer.
Yer Friend, Billy
Dear Billy,
Nice spelling. You're on your way to a career in lawncare. How about I send you a book so you can learn to read and spell? I'm giving your older brother the space ranger. At least HE can spell.
Santa

Dear Santa,
I have been a good girl all year, and the only thing I ask for is peace and joy in the world for everybody!
Love, Sarah
Dear Sarah,
Your parents smoked pot when they had you, didn't they?
Santa

Dear Santa,
I don't know if you can do this, but for Christmas, I'd like for my mommy and daddy to get back together. Please see what you can do.
Love, Teddy
Dear Teddy,
Look, your dad's banging the babysitter like a screen door in a hurricane. Do you think he's gonna give that up to come back to your frigid mom, who rides his ass constantly? It's time to give up that dream. Let me send you some Legos instead.
Santa
(Editorial note: Me, screaming with laughter. '....banging the babysitter like a screen door in a hurricane.'?? I'll be using this in the future. I'm just sayin'.)

Dear Santa,
I want a new bike, a Playstation 2, a train, some G.I. Joes, a dog, a drum kit, a pony and a tuba.
Love, Francis
Dear Francis,
Who names their kid "Francis" nowadays? I bet you're gay. I'll set you up with a Barbie.
Santa

Dear Santa,
I left milk and cookies for you under the tree, and I left carrots for your reindeer outside the back door.
Love, Susan
Dear Susan,
Milk gives me the shits and carrots make the deer fart in my face when riding in the sleigh. You want to do me a favor? Leave me a bottle of Scotch.
Santa
(Editorial note: A coincidence that the one involving Scotch was sent by 'Susan'? I think not.)

Dear Santa,
What do you do the other 364 days of the year? Are you busy making toys?
Your friend, Thomas
Dear Thomas,
All the toys are made in China . I have a condo in Vegas where I spend most of my time making low-budget porno films. I unwind by drinking myself silly and squeezing the asses of cocktail waitresses while losing money at the craps table. Hey, you wanted to know.
Santa

Dear Santa,
Do you see us when we're sleeping, do you really know when we're awake, like in the song?
Love, Jessica
Dear Jessica,
Are you really that gullible? Good luck in whatever you do. I'm skipping your house.
Santa

Dear Santa,
I really want a puppy this year. Please, please, please, PLEASE,
PLEASE could I have one?
Love, Timmy
Dear Timmy,
That whiney begging shit may work with your folks, but that crap doesn't work with me. You're getting a sweater again.
Santa

Dearest Santa,
We don't have a chimney in our house. How do you get into our home?
Love, Marky
Dear Mark,
First stop callling yourself "Marky", that's why you're getting your ass whipped at school. Second, you don't live in a house, you live in a low-rent apartment complex. Third, I get inside your pad just like the boogeyman does, through your bedroom window.
Sweet dreams,
Santa

So, in spite of my semi-scroogish nature, I do wish everyone a wonderful Christmas. I hope it's filled with laughter and love. I really mean that. If you're in my neck of the woods, please drop by for a cup o' Christmas cheer (a.k.a. 'booze') along with an inappropriate laugh or two.

Gay Pelchat a.k.a. 'The Infamous Aunt Gay'

2008-12-12T19:20:00.000-08:00

In one of my recent posts, I talked about my Aunt Gay and I mentioned that I would post a future blog post about her. Well, here it is, as promised. You won't be disappointed. Anyone who knows me well has heard of "Aunty Gay". In the Pelchat Clan (my mother's side), she is a legend.

Aunty Gay is my Mom's sister. There were 11 kids in their family and all of them are/were amazing, fun-loving, smart, spirited people. There were 6 girls and 5 boys and they grew up during the depression on a farm in Saskatchewan. I remember being very small and watching with wide eyes while my Mom and her 5 sisters sat in the livingroom, laughing, talking and drinking wine. (There was always wine.... the French blood made wine an essential part of any gathering!) There was never a shortage of fun when the sisters gathered and I remember my Father staying clear of the livingroom when they visited. I think they scared him a little. To this day, whenever Pelchat women gather (and there are many of us), wine, hugs and laughter are essential. Aunt Gay has been instrumental in demanding that this tradition continue.

Aunty Gay was a feminist before the phrase was coined. She has told me that growing up on the farm made is so that gender was irrelevant to a certain degree. If work needed to be done, you simply did it. My Grandfather helped to bake bread. My Grandmother helped in the fields. During her life, I don't think that it ever occured to Aunty Gay that there was anything she couldn't do. What an empowering gift to give your daughter, especially during those times. Aunt Gay was a teacher for many years before she chose an administrative career with the school system. I always viewed her as being so very strong and capable and she was an amazing role model for me while I was growing up. I have no doubt that a large part of my rather feisty nature is because I had her to look up to in life.

I have learned SO much from Aunty Gay. I remember talking to her about 'recycling' over 20 years ago, feeling very smug and clever about the topic. She said, "Recycling? You think you invented recycling? Your generation invented garbage, not recycling." She then went on to tell me about how her Mom would sew underwear for her children out of used flour bags. If the bedsheets were wearing too thin in the center, they were cut down the middle, and then flipped and sown up again so that the thin part was now on the outside. Paper was burned. When clothing wore out beyond use, rugs were made out of the rags. They composted, gardened, and canned. Aunt Gay is still incredibly resourceful and practical.... I learn something new everytime I'm with her.

Almost every fabulous book I've read and every amazing new drink I've consumed ("Susan! Scotch and Ginger Beer with lemon!!!) was introduced to me by Aunt Gay. Aunt Gay turned 80 last May and people are stunned when I tell them how old she is. The picture above is of her at her 80th birthday celebration this past summer -- she's sitting with my brother Glen, also known as 'Aunty Gay's Favourite'. I'm just sayin'. The black and white is of Aunty Gay and my Mom. Aunty Gay is the one reading, my Mom is the kooky one with the pillow on her head. Am I a combination of these two women, or what???

I have no doubt that the reason my Aunty looks so young is a direct result of how active she is (she goes to the gym in the winter and golfs almost everyday in the summer), but I must admit that I secretly believe that it's because she never married :-))

Aunty Gay was my Mom's best friend as well as her sister. She was always there for her, no matter what Mom needed. Before Mom died, Aunty Gay was there on a regular basis to do exercises with her... to read to her and laugh with her. I would love my Aunty no matter what, but the closeness she shared with my Mom makes me love her ZILLA. When my siblings and I went to have a memorial tattoo done in honour of my Mom, Aunt Gay was right in there with us. She was 78 at the time and Charlie (our tattoo artist) declared her to be his most 'mature' client. When we walked into his shop, Charlie had a power metal station playing on his satellite radio. Aunt Gay looked at him, then calmly looked up at the speaker where the music was coming from. She looked at Charlie again and raised one eyebrow. Charlie quietly walked over and changed the station.

I absolutely adore my Aunt Gay. She is about 5'1", but her presence is formidible, make no mistake. She is the Matriarch of our clan and she is revered and loved by us all. Next time you pour a glass of wine, take a moment to quietly think of all of the amazing women who have influenced your life. I know I can't take a sip without thinking of my Aunty Gay and the amazing Pelchat women who influenced mine.

Happy Birthday to Us!!!

2008-12-05T22:15:00.000-08:00

Connor and I just returned home from Kelowna and the "Nine Inch Nails" concert. Our birthdays are only 2 days apart so this year we decided to celebrate by enjoying something that we both love.

Screaming, loud music.

I can't believe that my firstborn is 15 years old. Ok... I have to say this. I know that I'm his Mommy and I HAVE to say it, but I'm going to anyway. He is such a nice guy. Oh, my God. He really, really is.

**If you don't want to listen to me brag about my boyo, you may want to skip the next two paragraphs. I'm just sayin'**

Connor was a completely mental toddler. At the age of 2, he rolled a pickup truck and managed to shut off the water main during Christmas Dinner. At 3, he had me in tears before 9:00 a.m. most mornings and redecorated my house with permanent felt marker. People would smile indulgently when I mentioned how busy he was.... and then they would witness it. Eyes would widen. Mouths would hang agape. After a demonstration, inevitably the question would be asked "How do you keep up with him??" At one point, I truly believed that if we could keep him out of prison, it would be a huge accomplishment and our best hope for him.

But apparently the all beatings and beration worked. Connor has turned into a very cool human being and not only do I love him to bitsies, I really, really like him. When he was blowing out his birthday candles this year, (ok, ok.... birthday candle. I forgot to buy candles so I just stuck a pillar candle in the middle of his cake.) I thought to myself "When he was born, if I could have written out a list of what I wished for in a 15 year old son, I couldn't have come up with this." (Happy Birthday Boyo.... I love you!)

Back to Nine Inch Nails. We both agreed that it was likely the best concert that either of us have ever attended and I'll tell ya why; Trent Reznor is an artist. (Trent Reznor is a HOT artist.... but I digress.) Usually at a concert like this, the lead singer spends a fair amount of time blabbing at the crowd, letting them know just how amazingly cool he is. Trent Reznor did no such thing. He simply was cool. On the drive home from the concert, Connor and I discussed feeling like we were witnessing art, not just a rock concert. It felt like Trent (yeah.... me and Trent? We're on a first name basis....) was truly an artist wanting to entertain us with his music and talent. What a concept. In fact, Trent Reznor believes in his art so much (as opposed to multi million dollar industries) that he has made his latest album, "Slip" available as a free download on the NIN website. Google it, bitches!

(A big thank you to my pal, "Dan the Dirtman" from Power 104 in Kelowna for the pro bono tix! Thanks, Dan.... best birthday present EVER!)

BSW 2.0

2008-11-26T22:58:00.000-08:00

In October 2007, my siblings and I decided to have a weekend together -- just us. No spouses or children. It turned out to be one of the best weekends of my life.

Growing up, we were very close and we still are today. However, we all have busy lives and families and we just seem to lose touch a bit.... subsequently, the 'Barth Sibling Weekend' was born and we enjoyed the 2nd annual BSW this past October. (Yay!!) Without a doubt, this has become an annual tradition that the four of us look forward to and are fiercely protective of.

The first time we gathered, we had dinner at a place in Calgary called 'Namskar'. Oh My God. The best East Indian food imaginable. Our waiter was named 'Veer' but Karen insisted on calling him 'Vindaloo' which is actually a dish on the menu. Without a word of a lie, I have never laughed so hard in my life. Never. The entire restaurant was getting a kick out of us and the 4 of us were in tears laughing at each other. There is a flow to our communication and especially to our humour. We just feed off each other and within moments, we can't breathe because we're laughing so hard.

We returned to Namskar this year and had an incredible meal again. We talked and laughed and we had a waiter with AMAZING taste in women. That's all I have to say about that.

This year we went to 2 movies on the Sunday. God, that just felt like such a luxury! In the afternoon we saw 'Religulous' by Bill Maher which was absolutely brilliant, then that evening we saw 'Passchendaele' a Canadian war drama by Paul Gross. A friend of mine worked on the film (Yay Michele!) so I was really excited to see it. Without a doubt, it is an excellent film with a real Canadian feel to it, which I loved.

The BSW 2.0 was again, a success. When I'm with my siblings, I'm just 'Suze'. I'm not a wife, not a mother, not an employment counsellor, not a community member. I'm just..... Suze. And at least once a year, that is something that I really crave. It's good for my soul. My sibs feel the same way. When I talk about this weekend as it approches, I'm always suprised by how many people are shocked that all 4 of us are close. I take it for granted and I shouldn't. What we have is really precious and I'm grateful for it.

Dance-o-rama

2008-11-25T20:38:00.000-08:00

I love dancing. Love it. LERVE it. Luff it with 2 'f's.

My first memory of dancing is this; standing on my Dad's feet when I was just wee and being carried around the livingroom this way, likely to Roger Whittaker or Vicki Carr or something really exciting like that. (Shut up, Tana!).

My Mom loved to dance, but I never really had a chance to see it because of her disease. By the time I was old enough to pay attention, she was already having trouble walking. When she danced with my brother at his wedding, she stood on his feet and was carried around the dance floor that way. She was delighted.

When I was young, I took jazz dance. In college, I took classic dance (waltz, rumba, cha-cha). There is no feeling in the world like being in the arms of a man who knows how to dance. At weddings, I seek out any man over 55 who can dance.... not just dance, but really dance. The feel of his right hand on the small of your back, gently directing you, guiding you across the floor. The feel of his left hand, held out, supporting yours. To be moving to the music, in unison.... it's something you can't understand unless you've experienced it. My brother Glen and I dance like this. Two step, polka, jive. There is no one I prefer to dance with in the whole wide world. (Love you, Glennie).

This past weekend I went out dancing, but it was a different kind of dancing. This was the tequila induced shake-your-money-maker kind of dancing with my girlfriends. Now understand, this is completely different from the waltzing, contained dance in the arms of a partner. This is free flow, expressive, laughing dance and is OH, so good for your soul. We danced to 'The Hip Replacements', a Tragically Hip cover band and sat down only long enough to order another shot of tequila. MyBarb drove in for the night, as did my Seeso.

Fun du la fun a la fun.

I'd like to think that if she could have, my Mom would have loved dancing with us like this. Karen and I often ponder whether or not we get our wild streak from Lily and I'm pretty sure that we do.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

To dance is to be out of yourself. Larger, more beautiful, more powerful. ~Agnes De Mille

Dance first. Think later. It's the natural order. ~Samuel Beckett

Socrates learned to dance when he was seventy because he felt that an essential part of himself had been neglected. ~Source Unknown

Common sense and a sense of humor are the same thing, moving at different speeds. A sense of humor is just common sense, dancing. ~William James

Giving Thanks - Laughing in Blind Bay

2008-10-12T11:47:00.000-07:00

*sigh*

I'm in Blind Bay for Thanksgiving weekend with my beloved Barb and our families. The sun is shining, the Fall colours are amazing and I'm in heaven. The first thing Barb and I did once I arrived (literally, within 5 minutes) was grab a bottle of merlot and walk down to the lake to sit on a picnic table in the dark, just talking and laughing. (Thank you David and Len for putting up with us). What a great start to a wonderful weekend.

As I sit here, David ('Houseboy' to Barb, 'Father Nelson' to me....) is whipping up yet another amazing breakfast for us, Len is playing his guitar, the boys are playing Playstation (Guns, violence, blah, blah, blah), the girls are watching Juno ("Your eggo is preggo" LOLOLOL) and Barb and I are laughing which is what we do best. Our husbands have spent most of the weekend rolling their eyes and shaking their heads at us. While they don't understand us entirely, they do know that our friendship is sacred to us both and they support/endure/tolerate it for our sake. Thanks again, boys. We really do appreciate it.

I have much to be thankful for. I won't list all the reasons here because that seems quasi-cheezy, but it's enough to say that I'm a lucky person and I am grateful for it. Blind Bay seems the perfect place to spend Thanksgiving. Barb's Mom, Julie (a.k.a. Nana) came for dinner yesterday and it was a great day on the whole. My kids don't really have involved Grandparents in their lives, and Julie has taken my Brats in as her own Grandbrats. When I told Jack and Bridget that we were coming to Blind Bay for Thanksgiving, one of their first questions was "Is Nana going to be there?" Nana is one more reason that I'm grateful to have Barb in my life.

The upcoming week is going to be batshit crazy. Literally. Breathing and sleeping will be luxuries, honestly. So.... I'm enjoying this weekend even more, knowing what the next few days will bring. Barb and I have been staying up until (at least) 3:00 a.m. each night, partly because we just aren't tired, but partly because I think we want to enjoy every minute that we can. We're like 6 year olds who don't want to go to bed because we might miss something. Last night, we watched part of Texas Chain Saw Massacre; The beginning. We almost threw up. But we also laughed (I know. What a sur-prise). Then we had so pick Sara up at a house on a dark road in the backwoods. We were convinced that a chain saw wielding maniac was going to jump out and kill us... which made us laugh even more. Sara thinks we are completely mental, but she laughs with us (at us?!!!) too. I look forward to Sara joining us in our laughter more and more as she gets older.

So, Happy Thanksgiving everyone. I hope your weekend is one full of family, laughter and many reasons to be thankful.

Yay Team!

2008-10-01T22:06:00.000-07:00

I work with the most amazing group of people. We work hard, support each other and laugh our asses off on a daily basis.

One of my colleagues popped into my office and started laughing at me today (not an unusual occurrence, I have to admit). She pointed out that my office and the one beside mine couldn't be more different. When you walk into mine, it's high energy, coffee buzz, and usually there is heavy metal music playing. Next door, it's ylang-ylang essential oils, bamboo plants and zen. Here's the best thing; it doesn't matter. That was the next part of our conversation... we talked about how diverse our team was, but how supportive we all are of each other regardless of (because of?) those differences.

There is an amazing ebb and flow to this incredible group. We all have busy lives and families and with that of course, comes all kinds of personal successes and challenges. We have all taken our turn at trying to deal with our careers while navigating personal crises. When one of us is wounded, the others form an unspoken circle of support and we compensate for our friend in need. When one of us has a success, we all celebrate.

We got together the other night to eat appies, drink wine and watch a movie meant for 14 year old boys. We laughed til we snorted and giggled about it the next day. (S... I'm still waitin' for that crab walk, darlin'!). We work hard and we laugh hard.

So, here's to you, my work peeps. I know you all read my blog, loyal friends that you are.... Yes, here's to you -- thanks for making Monday to Friday, 8:30 - 4:30 fun, productive and challenging. Y'all keep me on my toes, make everyday fun and I love you for it! Mwah!

Immortal Beloved

2008-09-30T21:31:00.000-07:00

This is Ludwig van Beethoven's Third Letter for his Immortal Beloved. I'm not a romantic woman, not by a long shot. I'm far too practical for that and perhaps even cynical. However... this letter brings me to my knees. Not that I long to feel this, necessarily - more that I'm in awe of his words and his passion. I appreciate it as I would a work of art. I think that this type of longing and angst blossoms in very special circumstances -- a cross country love affair through words, perhaps. A Maverick soul, yearning for his Siren... here it is.

This is The Third Letter, from Ludwig van Beethoven for his Immortal Beloved

"Though still in bed, my thoughts go out to you, my Immortal Beloved.
Now and then joyfully, then sadly, waiting to learn whether or not fate will hear us.
I can live only wholly with you or not at all -
Yes, I am resolved to wander so long away from you until I can fly to your arms and say that
I am really at home with you, and can send my soul enwrapped in you into the land of spirits.

Yes, unhappily it must be so.
You will be the more contained since you know my fidelity to you.
No one else can ever possess my heart - never - never.
Oh God, why must one be parted from one whom one so loves.
And yet my life in V is now a wretched life.
Your love makes me at once the happiest and the unhappiest of men.
At my age I need a steady, quiet life - can that be so in our connection?
My angel, I have just been told that the mailcoach goes every day,
therefore I must close at once so that you may receive the letter at once.

Be calm.
Only by a calm consideration of our existence can we achieve our purpose to live together.
Be calm... love me - today - yesterday.
What tearful longings for you - you - you - my life, my all - farewell.
Oh, continue to love me - never misjudge the most faithful heart of your beloved.

Ever thine
Ever mine
Ever ours."

Politics, Elections and other Nonsensical Stuff

2008-09-28T20:51:00.000-07:00

Soooo, we have a Federal Election coming up soon. I tend to be a fairly political creature (which my girlfriend Barb thinks is a DISEASE... she will be fairly disgusted with this post), so all the election buzz got me to thinking about why I find politics so facinating.

I was talking to Connor tonight about it all (he has the same disease, poor wee bugger) and while sharing my views with him, I remembered that growing up, during any federal or provincial election, there were 2 signs on the front lawn. On one side of the sidewalk was a Liberal sign, on the other side of the sidewalk was a Conservative sign. My wonderful Mamma was the liberal. My German Catholic father, no suprise, was the conservative.

I remember being small and feeling very excited that we had 2 signs on our lawn instead of only 1 like everyone else. I also remember being proud of my Mom for having a different opinion from my Dad. I remember feeling very proud of her for being vocal about it.

I don't know how I'm going to vote in this election. I'm having a debate in my head about the wisdom of voting for a party vs. voting for a candidate. I don't know what the answer is to that dilemna, but I'm not crazy about the Conservatives or the Liberals, and I'm also not crazy about our NDP candidate (only met him once, to be fair). Today the Globe and Mail said that the Conservatives are tanking in Quebec and that BC may be their last hope for a majority government. That's enough to knock 'em right off the ballot for me. The Liberals? Well, Stephane Dion seems just a little... well... um.... wimpy. I'll just say it. Like the kid who gets beat up on the playground then has an asthma attack afterwards. Not terribly Prime Ministerial sounding, right?

I think I've just been really spoiled by having a few politician friends who are incredibly genuine and sincere people. My beloved Paulie (of Paul and Linda fame) and my darling Corky (of Corky Evans fame) are two of them. These guys have raised the bar for what I expect from a politician. CRAZY things like sincerity and honesty. Charisma and kindness.

I expect them to give a shit, like Paul and Corky.

The nerve.

Sweet Caroline

2008-09-19T22:09:00.000-07:00

Tonight was a tough night.

On January 1 of this year, my friend Caroline died from a brain tumour. She was 49. I had the enormous privilege of knowing her, spending time with her when she was sick, and helping to plan her funeral.

Tonight, I snuggled Caroline's grandson, Landon. He is her first grandchild and he was born only weeks ago. I rocked him in her kitchen and told him all about her which was hard but also beautiful. I held him close to me and in the warmth of her home, and told Landon about his Grandma.....

Caroline had the best laugh ever. She had a beautiful voice and her laugh was a giggle that sounded like chimes tinkling. She was inquisitive and smart. She loved to research alternative medicines and organic foods and was very knowledgeable. She even researched her brain cancer... after she was diagnosed, she sat at my kitchen table and gave my children a biology lesson in brain cancer and told them that she wanted them to learn along with her on this journey. She didn't want them to be scared or sad for 'Aunty Caroline'. She wanted them to be interested and educated. She accepted her diagnosis with grace.

Caroline raised three really amazing children with a partner who adored her. Watching Landon's Mamma nurturing him tonight helped me to see that Caroline's legacy lives on through her children. Caroline loved being a Mother. There is nothing that was more important to her than her family. Caroline would have been an amazing Grandma.

I want to finish this post on a lighter note because Caroline will roll her eyes at me wherever she is if I don't. By the time Katie found out she was pregnant, Caroline was already becoming confused from the cancer in her brain. Didace, her husband, was excited to share the news of Katie's pregnancy with Caroline, knowing how happy it would make her. He sat down on her hospital bed and told her, "Guess what? You're going to be a Grandma....". She processed this for a moment, then lit up and said "That means you're going to be a Dad!"

Caroline had an amazing attitude until the end. She was grateful for the life she lived and the love she experienced while on this earth. She left all who loved her with the gift of acceptance and gratitude and I love her for it. We will all make sure that wee Landon knows just exactly how amazing his Grandma was, and how much she loved just the idea of him.

Barb

2008-09-15T01:34:00.000-07:00

I spent this past weekend with Barb who is my best friend in the whole entire universe. I don't know how to begin to define Barb or the friendship that we have, but I'm going to try.

Barb is.... funny. Fucking funny. No one can make me laugh the way she does. We laugh on the phone, at my house, at her house, when one of us is crying, at the mall, out for dinner. You get the idea -- it's pretty much non-stop. My abs hurt everytime I'm with her and somehow, after 23 years of friendship, we don't seem to run out of material.

I met Barb in the summer of 1985 when I went to write my college entrance exams. My Aunt Gay (you will learn about her in an upcoming blog post....) drove me the 3 hours to Calgary and I was fairly terrified. I was only 17 and didn't know a soul at Mount Royal College. After my exams, Aunt Gay and I went to 'The Soup Kettle' to have some lunch. She noticed Barb and told me that she recognized her from the exam room and why didn't I go say hello to her? My eyes almost bugged out of my head. Barb was scary. She was the kind of girl who lipped off teachers, who broke curfew, who SMOKED. In public. I was the kind of girl who was the President of the Student Council, always made it home 5 minutes before curfew and smoked, but only covertly. I didn't want to ruin my wholesome reputation, after all. (This was early evidence of the rebel who lived under that Catholic girl facade....).

That fateful day, I was dressed in nicely pressed blue jeans, a blouse buttoned up conservatively, pink pumps and a ribbon in my hair. No, I'm not kidding. Barb, on the other hand was wearing very tight jeans with high top runners, a t-shirt and jean jacket (cordouroy collar, flipped up, no less) with a cigarette hanging out of her mouth and a mean squint in her eyes. My Aunt Gay nudged me until I went over to say hello. (Thank you, thank you, thank you Aunt Gay). I don't remember what I said or how the conversation went, but it was the beginning of this amazing friendship.

I am 100% convinced that one of the main reasons I'm strong and capable (and alive) today is because Barb took me under her wing. When I went to college, I was incredibly naive and trusting. I had been raised in a very sheltered manner and Barb saved me from many scary situations and taught me to be street wise. If we were being harrassed by guys in a bar, I would smile and endure it. She would tell them to "Fuck Off!" in no uncertain terms. I was awestruck. She was also very charming and used her natural charisma to get our needs met. I always accepted my course schedule just the way it was handed to me. Barb, not so much. One time, she made me go with her to talk to our faculty adviser so that she could explain that it was impossible for us to have a 9:00 a.m. class on Friday mornings because Thursday night was ladies night at 'The Longhorn' saloon. They changed our class for us. Again, I was awestruck.

Barb is kind. Everyone around her feels accepted and embraced when they are with her. The home she has created is likely the most welcoming, warm place I've ever been. She has a knack for creating spaces throughout her house and yard that make you want to sit and visit and laugh, and people do exactly that. All the time. Anytime I'm there to visit, friends are constantly popping by to say hello and they are always made to feel welcome. This summer, she had 22 people staying there for the August long weekend. She loved every minute of it.

Barb's house is also the place where I go to lick my wounds. When life becomes 'all too much' or I'm going through something difficult, that is where I go. I know that I can stay in my jammies the entire time, crying on the couch if I need too. She knows just what to do and say to support me. She knows when to bring the kleenex, pour the paralyzer, hug me, tell me to suck it up, or make me laugh. She just knows.

This past weekend was one of complete rest and relaxation for me. We watched season 2 of 'Dexter'. We went for a 6 kilometer walk. We drank paralyzers. We slept in her king sized bed with the new fleece sheets. (Fleece!). I made chicken and rice wraps for Sara (Barb's daughter) because it's one of the things I do when I'm there. Jacob (Barb's son) gave me a hug that melted my heart the minute I arrived. We watched 'Wrong Turn 2' and screamed and laughed. Last night at 3:00 a.m., Sara came down to where we were sleeping to tell us that we were laughing too loud which just made us laugh harder. She walked away with a smile, shaking her head at us.

If I could make one wish for Sara, it would be for her to be lucky enough in life to find a friendship like the one I have with her mother.

(Thanks for the fantastic weekend, Barb! Mwah!)

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Update: In true Barb fashion, she made me laugh my head off when I chatted with her about this blog post. She told me that she now knows what her Eulogy will sound like and that she felt like she should be eating a ham and pickle sandwich (the kind you ONLY get at a funeral tea). She also pointed out that she did not have a cigarette hanging out of her mouth at the Soup Kettle and I'm pretty sure she's right. She just didn't sound scary enough without it. I pointed out that this is my blog and I am allowed a bit of artistic license. She said that I was just like James Frey (of 'A Million Little Pieces' fame) and that she was going to report me to Oprah. Do you see why I love her???

9/11 and the genius of Serj Tankian

2008-09-11T23:59:00.001-07:00

I didn't want the anniversary of the attacks on the twin towers to go by without some form of recognition on my blog. I remember that day well. I was puttering about, getting my little ones ready for school when the phone rang. A good friend called to tell me to turn my television on because the US was under attack. I did and was as frightened and dumbfounded as everyone else that morning. I didn't know what to do.... should I send the kids to school? Should I keep them home? What was next? In the end, I did send them to school and sat under a blanket watching CNN the entire day feeling sick to my stomach.

I had a discussion with a dear friend today about the state of our world and the imperialistic attitude that seems to prevail, especially from the politicians who reign to the South of us. The conclusion that he and I both came to was that generally, society seems to be moving towards a more kind and gentle state of mind. The same can not be said for the 'right-leaning' politicians who continue to gain power through fear mongering. I was feeling fairly hopeless about it all until my son asked me to sit down and watch a video on youtube with him. Connor and I have been somewhat OBSESSED with the music/poetry from the band System of a Down recently. (A shout out to my peeps at work who put up with me forcing them to watch these videos -- "Isn't he brilliant, Shannon? Isn't he? Put away your Holy Water!") The video that Connor wanted me to see was of a song by the lead singer of SOAD named Serj Tankian. The song is called 'Empty Walls' and is about war, specifically the one currently being fought in Iraq. Serj Tankian is American, but was born in Beruit. He is Armenian and has seen his share of violence. He is a peace activist and a poet. He's brilliant and revolutionary. The song and video are amazing, however the video is disturbing, I'll warn you. Not in a gruesome way, more in a "Holy fuck that gave me goosebumps" way. I personally believe that we all need to have our cage rattled in that way now and then.

I digress. I was about to tell you all about the hope that I had after watching the video with my son. What I found hopeful about the experience was that my 14 year old son was so passionate about the topic. Not just passionate, but thoughtful and reflective too. That gives me hope. At the age of 14, he is politically aware and has strong opinions in that regard. He embraced this video because he understood the message being sent and agreed with it. He and I have discussed the lyrics from most of the SOAD music and have enjoyed very meaningful conversations around them. When I was 14, I was worried about my hair and listened to Wham!.

'Nuff said. Hope.

In case you're interested, here is the video of "Empty Walls' by Serj Tankian on youtube. Google the lyrics. It's important.

www.youtube.com/watch?v=rgQb6il94_I

(FYI; this link was previously broken. I fixed it, just so you know.)

Pondering My Yonder

2008-09-11T22:47:00.000-07:00

The other night I had a friend come over for a visit. When I originally posted this picture on facebook, she told me that she wanted to "Ponder my yonder' from the seat of that tractor. And so we did. It was a cool night with a brilliant, bright moon (Drinking Scotch, I suppose I should say it was a "Braw bricht moon licht nicht") so it seemed completely appropriate that we would drink scotch. I know that sentence makes no sense. It doesn't need to. Now, this was not just any scotch, mind you, but a single malt called 'Balvenie'. My friend Paul (from a previous post called 'Refuge') introduced me to Balvenie. I love Paulie. I think I've mentioned that before. My first bottle of Balvenie was a gift from Paul for my 40th birthday.

My friend put on my pink wig (because she wanted to) and we drank $70 scotch out of pink 'go-cups'. On a tractor. I was in heaven. We sat there for 3 hours, sipping our scotch, laughing and talking about so many heartfelt things. She's going through some 'stuff' right now. I've recently gone through some 'stuff'. One great truth we agreed upon is that people who endure, survive, embrace and conquer their 'stuff' are interesting folks. As a rule, they are more well-rounded, possess more depth and enjoy a certain amout of wisdom that 'stuff-less' people don't seem to have. My friend and I came to the conclusion that we are both grateful for what we've been through. I thought we were going to simply ponder the yonder of the beauty surrounding us. Instead, I pondered my own personal yonder, as did my friend.

Once we decided to go inside, we got off the tractor and stood up. That was our first mistake of the night (maybe the second... depends on how you look at it). While sitting, we both felt all 'glowy' from the Scotch. Once standing, it was evident that we were more than glowy. We were drunk with a capital 'D'. This was a Tuesday night. A Tuesday night with work the next day! (Although I clearly thought it was Wednesday for some reason....). We were in the middle of a field, in the dark and we were not sober. Does this not scream 'Someone is going to fall down'? Well, we didn't. However we did laugh until we snorted and we found a mud puddle accidentally. An evil mud puddle that tried to eat my Croc. We finally made it to the house with very muddy socks but we were quite sure that we'd been fairly respectable and stealthy. Apparently not. My husband told us that he could hear us 200 feet away from the house.

When my uncle saw the tractor picture on facebook, he commented that it reminded him of a William Carlos Williams poem. I will leave you with it:

so much depends upon a red wheel barrow

glazed with rain water

beside the white chickens.

-William Carlos Williams-

Critters

2008-09-03T12:16:00.000-07:00

I like living rurally. I really, really do.... I love that my kids have the opportunity to run wild on 10 acres, building tree forts and swimming and fishing in the creek and the pond. I like that they get to help raise, ride and eat pigs. I like the clean air and incredible view. Here's what I don't like.

I don't like the bird with it's many, many feathers that one of our cats put in Jack's bed this morning as a 'gift'.

Today I don't like the dog (yes, I know he was very cute in a previous post... not cute today) who is freakin' HOUDINI breaking out of his pen no matter what I do to contain him.

I really don't like the packrat that is banging around in my furnace ducts making a lovely winter home as we speak. Do the cats eat him? Nooooooo....

Our 100 year old farmhouse is very quaint but it is not exactly well-sealed, hence the ease with which a packrat can take up residence. This is not our first packrat. No, the first one made a nest out of something very precious that I can't name here because my siblings will KILL me. (Hi Siblings!) The second one.... well, get comfy because this is a story that you will want to hear. It's a gooder.

Packrat #2 made his presence know through the banging noise he made in the furnace ducts and the smell. Packrats STINK. It's too bad, too because they are really cute. (See picture above) They aren't 'rat' in the traditional sense.... they have furry tails and big cute eyes and they are incredibly social. But.... the stink. Wow. But, I digress.

We had been trying to catch Packrat #2 (PR2) for quite sometime a few winters ago to no avail. We bought the correct traps (BIG TRAPS. Packrats are big) and tried various tasty treats on them. Peanut butter? No. Cheese? No. Bread? No. We were growing tired of the banging and stink but were at a loss at how to get rid of PR2. Until, one fateful night.

I had a friend who was in visiting and we were up late drinking wine and laughing on the couch. Len and the kids were sound asleep and we were having a final nightcap when my friend suddenly screamed and jumped up onto the couch. I looked in the direction where she was pointing and saw PR2 sitting in the vent of the fireplace watching us. I did not scream because I am an experienced, rural woman. Uh huh. PR2 was completely unaffected by the screaming and just cocked his cute little head sideways, curiously watching us. I did what any compentent feminist would do.... I ran and woke up my husband. Len threw on his long johns and came downstairs all bleary eyed. At this point I noticed that he was ARMED. He had his .22 in hand, ready to take on PR2. More screaming ensued, now from both of the women in the house. Laughing, we ran back and hid in the laundry room. PR2 simply cocked his head in the other direction, observing the crazy human behaviour.

Suddenly, from our hiding place by the washing machine, we heard a 'pop' and we ceased giggling and screaming. Wide-eyed silence followed until we saw my 120 lb. rotweiller trying to squeeze herself through the cat-door that leads into the laundry room; she clearly was not interested in being the next recipient of the 'pop'. More hysterical laughing.

Somehow, my husband managed to 'dispose' of PR2 with one shot and no mess. Amazing. We decided that after all of the drama, we certainly needed another glass of wine and my friend (who is from the city and works in a fancy schmancy lawyer's office) shook her head and said "The girls at work are simply not going to believe this."

Rurally living at it's finest.

Back To School

2008-09-03T00:07:00.000-07:00

(Gigi, grade 5 and excited for day one. Connor, grade 10 and showing off his badly injured index finger (from helping me pick rocks). Jack, grade 7 and looking goofy because the only way I can make him smile for a picture is to say something inappropriate. In the picture below, they are all looking to the left so that Jack could show off his new hairdo.)

I have a kid in grade 10. Honestly. How did that happen? I certainly don't feel old enough to have an almost-15-year-old. In fact, wasn't I in high school, like, 15 minutes ago??

When all three of my lovely brats were preschoolers, little old ladies would come up to me in the grocery store and say "Oh, enjoy them, dear.... it goes so fast!!!" Now, you have to understand, a trip to the grocery store with my three wee bairns was a very serious undertaking that required more preparation and patience than anything else I've ever done. Nevermind the car seats and diaper bags. Once we were there, I would put Connor in the grocery cart seat, Jack in a back pack and Bridget in a snuggly. Then, I would try to get groceries while being stopped and subjected to the unsolicited advice of these little old ladies. Subsequently, I would use every ounce of my self control to not run over the old ladies with my cart. In my opinion, at that time, this was not going fast, oh no, not at all.

Here's what I have to say to you today. The little old ladies were right. I really, really hate admitting it, but they were. At the time, I thought they were suffering from memory loss at the very least, but more likely, advanced stage Alzheimer's. How could they forget how HARD this was?? Now, I have literally had to bite my bottom lip to stop myself from saying to young mothers in the grocery store.... "Oh, enjoy it! It really, really does go so fast."

And it does.

Refuge

2008-08-31T19:47:00.000-07:00

There are certain places in the world where you just feel happy. A place where everything is right and warm and fuzzy. I'm very lucky to have a few places that feel like that; today I spent the afternoon at one of them, with Paul and Linda at their acreage. I've known Linda for 16 years. She is my husband's step-mother's niece. Yeah. A shirt tail relative who feels more related to me than many of my 'real' relatives. (No offense intended, 'real' relatives :-)).

Since I met Lin, I have been 'Aunty' to her daughters, Sheena and Ebony, and she has been an incredible presence in my life whenever I've needed her. She's married to Paul who brought two sons into the mix, Tam and Mitch, and at one point they had 4 teenagers living with them, not to mention the barage of teenage friends who, to this day, enjoy the household hospitality as much as I do. In fact, when I arrived today, Sheena's friend from "back in the day" was in town and popped by for a visit. He and Lin were sitting out on the back veranda having a chat and he was laughing at the loving insults that Linda was hammering him with. It's her crazy way of showing love (have I ever had a conversation with her that didn't start with "Hi Skank"?) and everyone loves her for it.

Linda is a talented hair dresser and saves me from myself in that department. She did my hair on my wedding day, and also spent the months leading up to that day making and freezing cabbage rolls and perogies so that we could have a homemade dinner at the reception. Cabbage rolls and perogies. Labour intensive food. For 125 people. Who does that??

No matter how often I need to be at their home, for whatever reason, Paul welcomes me with open arms. Even better than that, he usually has a glass of single malt scotch on ice for me. (Balvenie!) Today he asked me how I was doing. I told him I was ridiculously cranky so he quietly poured me a Sambucca on ice. I love Paul. We discuss politics (a lot) and I value his opinion. I like to think he values mine too.

Paul and Linda have raised four incredible kids into thriving, adventurous adults. Sheena is in Australia raising two lovely little monsters and is an absolutely beautiful mother. I see Linda's influence when I watch Sheena parenting Dex and Kodi with a mixture of discipline, intense love, affection, and humour. Ebony is a firefighter, social worker (top of her class and about to take her Masters) and placed 4th in the world as a power lifter (please allow me to brag, Eb!). I see Linda's influence when I watch Eb's determination and compassion. Mitch and Tam are both about to embark on international adventures and I feel Paul's infuence when his son's greet me warmly and hug me even though they rarely see me. Paul and Linda are 'Aunty Lin and Uncle Paul' to my children and my kids feel warm and fuzzy when we go there too.

Paul and Lin love each other like crazy. They are openly affectionate and respectful with each other and they laugh together often. They have worked their asses off to be this happy and I go to them for advice for my own life knowing that they will always be honest, compassionate and most important of all, they will call me on my shit. I love them for that.

Today Linda cut Jack's hair, poured me a pink lady and let me raid the basil in their garden so that I could make a batch of pesto in her kitchen. While we were there, Sheena called from Oz and gave Bridget hair advice over the phone. Paulie puttered in his beloved gardens and all was right in the universe. It was a perfect sunday afternoon spent with two of my favourite people in the world. Thank you so much, Paul and Linda -- for everything.

(Linda, don't you dare complain about me being too
sweet to you in this blog post, you freakin' skank.)
xoxox

What's Up Doc?

2008-08-26T22:18:00.001-07:00

Three months ago, I took a trip to 'the city' with my son, Jack. While there, we decided to make a stop at the pet store to visit the critters -- not to purchase a critter, mind you -- just to look at them. As we rounded the corner to the pet store, I noticed a patch of grass where a young couple had parked with their dog and her 12 puppies. Before I could think, I gasped and pointed them out to Jack. Of course, Jack begged me to stop. Not to purchase one, mind you.... oh, no. Just to pet one. Jack loves animals... when we had pigs, he named all of them and even rode them when they were big enough. He is a cat whisperer (I swear to God) and just seems to have a way with all creatures great and small.

Last October, we had to have our 13 year old Rottie-girl put down. Her name was 'Mandy' and she was the sweetest, most gentle dog I've ever met. She was enormous and, well.... a Rottweiler, but even our vet said that she was one of the most submissive dogs he's ever met. Our kids grew up with her.... Bridget learned to pull herself up from crawling to standing by grabbing great handfuls of Mandy-skin in her hands. Having her put down was the hardest decision I have ever made, bar none. In hindsight, we left it far too long. She was ready to go long before we were ready to let her go and I honestly wasn't prepared for just how painful it would be to say goodbye. I swore that I would not put myself through that ever again.....

Back to Jack and the puppies and 'the city'. As we approached them, I could clearly see that these fat little sausages had rottweiler blood in them. Jack snuggled them and loved them and smelled them and played with them and fell in love with a little boy-dog. I told him over and over that we were not getting a dog until a lovely little girl-dog wiggled her way into my heart. After calling my husband (Pleeaaassseee!!! You won't have to do ANYTHING) and getting the 'go ahead', I jumped in the car with Jack, raced to the bank to get the required amount of cash and raced back. The little girl I fell in love with was gone. The little boy who Jack fell in love with was still there. I did NOT want a boy dog and firmly believed that the little girl-dog being gone was a clear sign from the universe that I am not supposed to have another dog. However, when Jack looked up at me (with his very own puppy dog eyes) and said "But Mom, he chose me", I was a goner. I'm not sure who was more shocked at my 'Yes', Jack or me, but indeed, I did say 'Yes' and off we went with our new little sausage-boy-dog.

We named him 'Doc' because we all love the movie Tombstone and we especially love Val Kilmer's portrayal of Doc Holliday in it. It was also the ONLY name we could all agree on. Everywhere we go, people think we're yelling "Dog!! Dog!" when we call him, but somehow 'Doc' really does suit him and he often channels the mischievious, trouble-making spirit of Doc Holliday. He still has 'accidents' and it makes me crazy. We ('we' meaning my husband who wasn't going to have to do ANYTHING) built him a pen which he regularily digs out of. We live on a highway so this is a bit of a dicey situation. I have had moments of 'What the fuck was I thinking???" but overall, I have fallen in love with this little guy. As I type this, he is sleeping in my favourite wing-backed chair, snoring. Who knew? And... when I watch Jack on the ground with him, wrestling and laughing his head off, telling me that Doc is his best friend, I don't mind so much that I've had to rip out my carpet.

I wanted laminate anyway.

But Why Is The Tequila Gone?

2008-08-24T23:49:00.000-07:00

And it really is. A perfectly lovely bottle of tequila, consumed and empty.

I went camping this weekend with my husband, 3 kids, 1 dog, brother-in-law, sister-in-law, their 2 kids, 2 dogs and new kitten. I kid you not. Is the empty bottle of tequila making more sense now?

Now, my husband likes to camp, however his idea of camping involves a tiny lake on the tippy, tippy top of a very big mountain. With no other humans for at least 100 kilometers. As you can imagine, this also means no bathrooms. And flies. Big, evil horse flies. With teeth. And weapons. When we were dating, I went to these places with my hubby. I smiled. I tried to be an outdoor girl.... ok -- that's a lie. I tried to pretend that I was an outdoor girl. I wasn't, nor am I today. (Sorry, hubby.... I'm sure it's grounds for an anullment, at least.) It's taken me many years to not feel inadequate as a human being for not liking the great outdoors. The tequila helps.

My brother-in-law and sister-in-law own a MONSTER motor home. It has carpet and a microwave. I love them. And their motor home. Earlier this year, we all went camping to a lovely place with nothing but trees and sand. It was beautiful, but very, very far from civilization -- NO people. This time, however, we went 20 minutes from home to a fantastic campground, but there were people there. People -- the horror!!!! I arrived ahead of my husband and knew that he was already on edge about the possibility of people being there, however it was my turn to pick the camping location, and this was it. The campground was almost empty.... perhaps only 10 other campsites being used in the entire area. This campground did have people; however it also had very clean bathrooms.... with flush toilets and (be still my heart...) showers!!! I saw a woman in there with a blow dryer. Is it so wrong to want nature AND a blow dryer? I ask you???

We only stayed one night, but it was wonderful. I arrived Saturday afternoon with my kids and dog, and the flowing of the margaritas commenced soon after. I had a very comfy lawn chair, an amazing view of the lake, sunshine, laughing children and margaritas. Does life get much better than this? My wonderful in-laws and I discussed Eckhart Tolle and the secret of making the most out of this life and laughed and relaxed and when my husband arrived, he gritted his teeth (because of all the people!!!), had a margarita with us and relaxation ensued, even for him, poor soul.

That night, there were at least a zillion visible stars in the sky and I just bundled up and leaned back in my comfy lawn chair and watched them. It was one of the most peaceful moments I've had in ages and I was truly just in the moment. That's rare for me.... and, yes. There was a margarita involved. The next day I went for a walk along the beach with my 12 year old son and listened to him tell me all about skipping rocks and frogs and why he really doesn't need shoes. We came across a blue heron and he was thrilled. Again, totally in the moment. (I managed this sans margarita... what a good mommy I am!).

That night I snuggled into the very luxurious motor home to sleep. Yes, a cat did pounce on my head during the night, and yes, I did have to get up in the middle of the night to powder my nose (penance for the excessive margarita-ness) but I did get to experience all the beauty that camping has to offer along with the conveniences of home.

So now it's 12:38 a.m. and I'm on my very comfortable couch with my very new and shiny laptop, grateful for the relaxing weekend, but also grateful to be warm, dry and ready for work tomorrow.

Jose Cuervo, you are a friend of mine....