Karma

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

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

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

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

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

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

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'

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.

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

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!