be-musings

Funeral Talk

2010-06-27T22:28:00.010-07:00

I just asked Scott if it's too obsessive to post one more thing about dad, and he said "No, your dad died! Two is not too much." So I'll indulge one more time. This is the "sermon" Scott gave. I think that for the little time they spent together, he understood him fairly well.

I met Lorne late in his life. I vividly remember my first impression of the man – he was short… and quiet. He was a man’s man – flannel and jeans and grease on his hands and a smoke in his mouth. He was like a little cowboy almost. I liked him instantly.

Lorne grew up in a world that didn’t talk about their feelings much, unless there was beer and a hockey game involved. Lorne seemed quiet about himself at first. Polite, accommodating, rough and tumble – a good dude.

My wife Annette often tells me that her dad wasn’t a big talker, but I remember vividly one night, sitting across the table from him all alone, as he described for me how much he loved his kids. Later it seemed hard for Annette to believe, but for that hour, that night, he gushed about her and her siblings – words he had a hard time saying to someone’s face.

He was a unique guy, let’s be honest the whole family is unique, wonderfully unique. I think God loves making people like Lorne – he was never boring. In a world of copycats, Lorne was an original. He was like a flannel John the Baptist, preparing the way in the wilderness. I promised Annette I wouldn’t mention how he would take the family on campouts to the middle of nowhere and seemingly randomly choose a spot to camp – usually miles from electricity or water. I promised I wouldn’t mention that, so I won’t. I think God has a special place in his heart for people like Lorne, people who uncompromisingly live their convictions. People who aren’t afraid to be different. I’m pretty sure God loved Lorne a lot. And though this is a time to mourn, it’s also a time to celebrate – celebrate Lorne’s life and celebrate that Lorne knew in his heart that this is not the end of his life, really. He believed that there was a heaven, and he’s there right now. He never really talked about it, but in his own introverted way he made his peace with his God. He just didn’t want people to know till after he died – you know he had a tough guy flannel image to protect. And that’s good news. We mourn, but Lorne doesn’t. Right now he’s up in heaven freaking the crap out of the angels with his wit and sarcasm. And the best legacy we can give back to Lorne is to love each other deeply, and tell each other we love them. It’s too late when we die to say the things you really want to say today. We have just a moment on this earth, let’s not waste it.

My Year, My Dad

2010-06-26T19:00:00.007-07:00

This has been a tough year, and I haven't been in touch with people as much as they have been in my thoughts. I wish it were different, but this has been the reality. There has been a lot of transition, of many kinds.

The restaurant, all consuming to both families involved, closed at the end of December. The journey toward realizing it wouldn't survive the recession was difficult, and closure was the death of a dream. At the same time, we took on a very large renovation, which also was impacted by the recession and Scott's temporary unemployment, and we ended up doing much of the work ourselves. That's why it's still going on. We've learned so much about home repair now, though.

Some relationships have changed because of not being able to keep up with them, not seeing them at church with the close of the restaurant, and just the general impact of going different directions. I hope that some of them will be back on track again soon.

November 2008 my father was diagnosed with leukemia. It was a difficult process for everyone, friends and family alike. On June 27th, 2009 he passed away. I remember I was mudding in what is now in our bedroom when his wife called earlier that day to say he probably wouldn't live out the night. I gave her a message for him, that I loved him and will miss him. A few hours later he was gone.

Death is not a stranger to me. My brother died when I was 13. Grandparents died at various stages of my childhood and adulthood. Friends have died tragically; as recent as last month. It's not that dad was young, because he lived to be 75. It's also not that we talked every week. But I knew I was loved, especially because he told me whenever we spoke.

Shortly after dad died, I was opening a can of pop for a customer, when very clearly in my brain I heard my dad say "Do you clean the tops of the cans for your customers Annette? Because on TV they said you should because of the rats in the storage warehouses". Before you think I'm crazy to hear that said, I'll clarify by saying he did say it a few months prior. I hadn't thought about it in between, so was surprised at the strength of the moment that it came to my memory in such an internally audible way. His voice and mannerisms come to me so strongly sometimes.

I was in the hardware store picking up reno things. I thought "Dad will laugh when he finds out how much drywall mudding I've been doing and how it's turned out not bad." But then I realized that dad won't know.
Last Sunday, Fathers Day, was difficult for me off and on. I no longer have a dad. I love my father-in-law, and don't think I could hope for a better one. I thought briefly of talking to him about shifting to him this year, in terms of completing the adoption of him as my dad. I couldn't do it. I don't want to replace mine yet; it doesn't seem respectful. Strangely enough though, I seem to have shifted to Scott this year. I bought him a present, and spoiled him a bit. Even though he isn't my dad, he is such a great example of a good dad.

The last conversation I had with dad he told me how he laid on the living room floor carpet that afternoon, just because he wanted to. He also sat outside on the grass for a while, enjoying the outdoors. He said not to worry because he would be all right. I gave him a "reality check" about having leukemia. He said he wasn't talking about that. He told me I had my beliefs and he also believed. In his coded way he was saying he would be with God. I understood it. He was okay with dying now.

Finished

2008-07-10T11:41:00.002-07:00

Well, I need to stop stalling. I haven't blogged much this past year, because life is so busy with the family, church, restaurant, work. Plus, the well seems to have run dry on my deep thoughts! So, although I will leave the blog site open for a while, there will be no more posts.

I will miss the friends I have made in the blog community, because writing and reading is a good way to keep up with each other's lives and is ministry. I hope to not lose some of these valuable relationships. Biscotti, I'll be emailing you soon.

Until we meet again........

-a-

B&E

2008-07-03T22:36:00.003-07:00

I had an interesting experience today.

I had borrowed a projector from a group that meets in a nearby church. I don't know them, but my boss does. I raced back there with what I thought was only a couple minutes to spare, to find that there were no cars in the parking lot. Still hoping that I had a chance, I went up to the front door. Hhm. The blinds were closed. Well, maybe there was someone in the building waiting for a ride. I knocked, and tried the door handle. Yay it wasn't locked! I slowly opened it a bit and quietly called "hello". There was a response.

woop, woop, woop, woop......

Yep, everyone was gone, the door was unlocked, and I tripped the alarm.

I don't have a cell phone, so I couldn't call anyone to tell them that it wasn't really an emergency. I slowly walked around and checked out a couple of neighbourhood houses, wondering which one would be best to knock on, asking to use the phone to divert the police from coming. I wondered if they would come screaming around the corner any minute to stop a burglary in progress. I wondered if driving away would be a problem.

Since the neighbourhood houses all seemed to have jacked up 4x4 trucks in the driveway, I decided driving to a different neigbourhood would be a good decision. So, I took off down the road, hoping no one would report my license for leaving the scene. I stopped in at the Fire Station, thinking that was a logical next choice and used their phone. I called the group who meets at the church.

"Hi, I'm Margaret's associate. I borrowed the projector today. "

"Yes" came the response.

"Well, I went to return it and the door was closed but I opened it because it wasn't locked and I tripped the alarm."

"Oh....let me get someone who can deal with this."

So, I still didn't return the projector, and now I have to see them in the morning! I've learned my lesson. No cars, no stopping.

Extra Fibre

2008-06-05T22:17:00.004-07:00

At the restaurant we make most of our stuff from scratch, especially the calzones. We mix the dough, make the marinara, layer the ingredients to make the pocket. Because we do this while also preparing customer meals, prep space is sometimes hard to find. We don't have a separate room for baking, so it is done in the corner of the kitchen, usually at a small table by the freezer. On this particular day I needed to do a mass of calzones so I rolled about 6 out in a row on top of the freezer. Usually we don't need to go in there for customer orders until evening (fried stuff)...or so I thought.

We got an order of wings or tenders or something that we had in the freezer. I looked at my 6 rolled calzones with sauce on them, and figured moving them in that state would be difficult. I remembered that our chef Josh had once been able to lift the lid just enough to get something out, but not too much to lose the dough. I figured it was worth a shot, so I opened it just enough to slide my upper torso under the lid while looking for the chicken. I couldn't find it. Just a little more...just a little more. I located the goods just as I heard a slide on the other side of the freezer.

You know where this is going. I closed the lid and checked out the 2 calzones that were still in tact, and gasped at the marinara streak on the wall. Yep, the rest of the dough was gone.

Scott ran in the kitchen in a hurry (typical), saw the sauce slide on the wall, and said "What the heck happened here????" I wanted to tell him that there was a WWII re-enactment and the red marks were the fake blood on the wall, or something that was less stupid than what actually happened, but I couldn't lie. I couldn't even really blame someone, except to say that I did it that way so Josh wouldn't make fun of me being too careful and moving the stuff first. Josh clarified that he would have made fun of me regardless, so there was no point in dodging it. He also told me I had to clean it up myself. The nerve.

I got 2 broom handles and tried to coax the dough up the wall close enough to grab. No. I tired to reach down low enough to get it. No. Hours later the guys pulled the freezer out a foot and Mat used some wood to get the dough out. Or at least I think he did...I didn't check to see that he got it all. Come to think of it he did say "I don't know what that other stuff is, but this is all I can get."

Calzone anyone?

How bad can it be?

Congratulations Amanda

2008-06-04T20:54:00.003-07:00

Over a year ago, in the winter, our friend Amanda was seriously injured when hit by a jeep on a snowy day. She was on a school break and ran across the road to join friends before returning to class. She didn't see the jeep driving down the street until her head hit the front grill.

In the first week following her injury she flat-lined twice and had 40% of her skull removed so they could take out 10% (the size of a golf ball) of her brain . Her pelvis was badly injured. She got pneumonia, was in a coma and on life support. Things were dismal regarding her recovery, and in fact I had her pegged for dead.

A few weeks after the accident, Scott and I visited her in the hospital. She wasn't in her room, so we wandered around various places trying to find her. We walked through the lobby to check outside, Scott ahead of me, and I noticed the name "Amanda Thompson" on the back of a wheelchair, but I didn't recognize the person in it. I thought that person had nerve taking Amanda's wheelchair when she needed it. As I looked at the hockey helmet wearing person slumped down, I realized it was Amanda. I told Scott she was there, and staring right at her he asked "Where?" I pointed her out again, and he put the scene together. There she was, shaved head, bright red helmet, not the perky woman we knew before. But who would be when in that much discomfort and missing part of the brain?

Amanda removed her helmet and showed us her stubble hair, the large scar and indentation across the entire right side of her head, where the skull had been removed. She was happy to tell us that they were soon going to cut her open again to put back the missing skull, now that they knew her brain wasn't leaking. She and her mom were thankful that she survived the accident, and they told us the doctors said her recovery was exceeding their expectations.

Tonight was Amanda's Grade 12 graduation. She has walked around this past few weeks reminding us about it and saying "I'm going to graduate this year. I'm not getting pregnant or hit by a truck." She was right.

Lori's Lapdance

2008-05-19T08:32:00.002-07:00

At church we had a fundraising dance for our upcoming trek into Vancouver to provide some relief for the homeless. There were the usual combination of adults and youth. At the beginning there was no dancing, but instead balloon tossing and fighting with the balloons. Lori and I had a contest to see who could make it across the restaurant while bouncing a balloon off their nose. Lori won. I think she had an advantage because she has seen her dog Frodo to it a lot. I'm asking for a head start next time.

As with dances, it sometimes takes a while for people to shed their insecurities enough to get up on the floor and start making fools of themselves. Unless you're Mat of course, and you like to strut like Mic Jagger.

Late in the evening I ran over to Lori and grabbed her hand to join me on the floor. She stubbornly refused, saying that she didn't dance. Ben ran over behind me and told me that I shouldn't pressure her to dance if she didn't want to, then moved me out of the way and did a shimmy dance about one inch from her. I moved across the floor to get out of the insanity, and Nathan jumped up and shimmied along with Ben. When I next looked, they were shaking their butts right at her, and Nate was sitting on her lap. This went on through the whole song, as we all laughed uproariously. With Lori's husband Mike gone for the weekend, that was a lot of action for her!

Such a mellow family and church.

The Dangers of Smoking

2008-04-03T22:32:00.004-07:00

Matthew and I were talking about the hazards of smoking, in terms of health and cancer. I explained the prevalent link between cancer and smoking (don't start a debate here please). Matthew responded "Probably way more people die of cancer than die from dressing up as an animal in a hunting area of a wood and getting shot by mistake."

Well, no one can argue with that statistic.

2008-03-16T23:26:00.003-07:00

It was disheartening a couple months ago when we were broken into at Bad Dog, but we injected humour into the day. We found out later that following morning that the only suspect was a woman we had been serving as part of the Red Card program, whereby people could purchase meal vouchers at a minimal price, and we provide the food for less than full retail price. She was outside the restaurant at 4:30am, when Lori arrived, telling Lori that she saw who did it and had given the police her statement. Little did we know at that time, that it was her who did it.

One of the conditions of the woman's release was that she couldn't come within a certain distance of our restaurant. It seems appropriate, and for the most part she has complied. I think I have seen her dart in once or twice to say hi to someone within, but maybe that's a woman who looks like her (or maybe it is her).

This woman cost us some momentum, some sleep, some belief that the people who we serve in the Red Card program are decent people down on their luck. Plus, it cost $700 to replace the window, and the floor and a table still bear some gouges from the falling glass. I'm not at the restaurant every day serving, so for those who are it probably "sticks in their craw" more than me. I didn't have any relationship or conversation with this woman before or after the incident.

I have seen her in the street. I walk by, and on occasion have thought to speak to her about the situation and remind her not to mess with us again. That's the fighter Annette, the one that is usually only an inside voice, but sometimes does come out. I want to protect my stuff and my friends that work at the Dog. Plus, sometimes I get afraid.

But I don't confront and I don't say anything and I don't look at her for long. I wonder what kind of grace I should bestow to her, an addict who steals and hooks for her fix. I wonder what kind of grace Jesus wants me to bestow. Surely just enough not to be mean, but not too much that I invite her in again. That's where I settle, because that's the best I can come up with. Is it because that's what Jesus is saying to me, as far as I will listen, or because I'm too passive aggressive to really do anything either way?

I have thought of something to say to a person who I have perceived to be a threat to me and those around me, from whom I have felt betrayal and lies, and have been surprised with the heartbeat and heat in my chest as the words have leapt almost uncontrollably into my head. Fighter Annette. I don't like those thoughts. Yet, when I face the person, those words and sentiments don't come out. I say a quiet hello, and wonder what Jesus would expect of me. Sometimes I feel dishonest that I don't portray the real thoughts and feelings, and wonder if I'm being passive aggressive again. Is that what it is, or is it that I keep telling myself that there is a story behind everyone, even if it is a twisted story? Am I chicken, or am I extending ... grace? Sometimes how do I really know where each line blurs into the other?

Last week I heard a song I hadn't listened to for a while. It strikes me in my sinner's heart when I hear it, and I am thankful that Jesus has given me that which I must be prodded to give others. I've blogged the lyrics before, but I like them alot.

Grace
She takes the blame
She covers the shame
Removes the stain
It could be her name

Grace
It's a name for a girl
It's also a thought that
Changed the world
And when she walks on the street
You can hear the strings

Grace finds goodness
In everything

Grace
She's got the walk
Not on a ramp or on chalk
She's got the time to talk
She travels outside
Of karma, karma
She travels outside
Of karma

When she goes to work
You can hear the strings

Grace finds beauty
In everything

Grace
She carries a world on her hips
No champagne flute for her lips
No twirls or skips
Between her fingertips

She carries a pearl
In perfect condition
What once was hurt
What once was friction
What left a mark
No longer stings

Because grace makes beauty
Out of ugly things

Grace finds beauty
In everything

Grace finds goodness
In everything

I have so far to go.

What to Do?

2008-03-14T22:42:00.002-07:00

I'm home from the restaurant early to be with Matthew (well, he is in bed actually). I don't like being home waiting for Scott and have a hard time sleeping when he is out, so I won't try unless it becomes really late. But what do I do? My mind turns to the inevitable...maybe I should read a book. Since I'm so experienced at it now, I could probably finish one in the next couple of hours. But I've finished that National Geographic book, so what is there. Hey, I know. I haven't started reading a daily calendar that I got in December. Text, a spine...like the Dilbert book! It wouldn't be right to finish it in one night, but I could get in a couple of chapters.

Just call me a bookworm

2008-03-10T21:17:00.004-07:00

When I was 10 I used to read Nancy Drew and the Hardy boys while walking to school. Actually, Nancy Drew was whoosy, so I preferred the Hardy boys. Plus, they were a lot cuter - Nancy Drew's picture on the front of the book looked too plain for me.

When I was 24 I read CS Lewis' The Screwtape Letters while walking to work along a busy TransCanada route. I used to love reading while walking.

For me, reading isn't a sedentary activity. It puts me to sleep. But lately, I have rediscovered it. This past weekend Scott and I went to a local Bed & Breakfast for a day away from responsibility, parenting, work. I'm proud to say I read a book, cover to cover, in that 24 hours. Here it is:

The nice thing about these books is that they're cheap and they get sent to me once a month.
So, as I'm writing this Ben and Scott are saying that it isn't really a book. Let me ask you two questions: 1) Are there words that I read? 2) Is there a spine? Then IT'S A BOOK. I found out about the white bear, in the black bear family, born from two recessive genes creating the light fur colour. I learned that Orca's eat dolphins and that I won't ever go on a Klondike Trail tourist site because I think they're boring. So, I think I learned a lot from my book.

Last month when heading into the bathtub I announced that I was going to read a book, and picked up my Dilbert daily calendar. Since I hadn't read it in 3 months and it has a spine, it qualified. But then I dropped it in the water with 1 month left to read....

A Good Day

2008-03-02T10:16:00.003-08:00

To me, Larry's concerts were always fabulous and moving. His funeral was no less so. That's a weird thing to say about a funeral, because there is so much sadness and longing to have one last time with the person, preferably when they were well. Often people ask funeral attenders "how was it" as they wince at the words because they don't know what else to say. My answer: "amazing".

Larry was ready to go home. His life, greatly used by God, was also fraught with pain and human sorrow. He deeply loved and in some cases deeply lost. He was loved by many and shunned by many others. His years of pain and lingering death from heart problems were close to being over early last week. We heard stories of his violent physical reactions in the last remaining days, and stories of his kindness throughout.

Larry was an idea man and director. He left the family notes of what he would like done at his funeral, which they executed well for him. It was like being at one of his concerts. We saw pictures of him as a baby, boy, man, performer. It was punctuated with his music, which we knew by heart. Over 2 hours of music, stories, pictures. Not one moment of it boring. We laughed, and cried and remembered a life that was full to capacity. Near the end we even did karaoke of one of the songs, as we stood and smiled and clapped to the music. Then, the song "Goodbye" was played to end the day. As Scott said later, they got us laughing and then smacked us in the forehead. The service was all it should be, I thought. I felt that I had experienced Larry's ministry and his concert once again.

Larry knew people would be sad at his passing, because they will miss him. He wanted them to know that he was looking forward to being with God and curious about the journey home. He couldn't erase their sorrow, but he could reassure them and encourage one last celebration.

Thanks Larry for the gig. Thanks to the family for sharing his life with us.

Larry, enjoy the field of flowers as you run to the Father ... Home at last.

Goodbye

2008-02-26T12:01:00.004-08:00

For many years now I have lived with the awareness that he was on borrowed time. In 1993 I sat by his hospital bedside while he told me to make sure that if he dies I tell his son how much he loves him and that he has tried to live his life to his best and follow what God wants. I didn't want to hear him say those things, because I didn't want to think about his weak heart and the possibility of his death. I had come to love him as a friend, not just an icon.
He didn't die that day. No doubt he was dying progressively, and his health waned and surged for years following. He lived to see his 50th birthday, against many odds. He and his brother broadcast a live birthday celebration from their home studio.
There have been many rumours of Larry's death since his early 30s, even before the first heart attacks happened. He used to laugh with me about some of them that he had heard. I think it was because people didn't know how else to explain that he would disappear for periods of time, when he was with family or in Europe.

This year I got some of Larry's music as a present. Yesterday Nathan told me he heard his Moses song in class and we talked about the history behind the writing of the song, as I had heard it from the author himself. It helps to bring the song to life when you know these things. I was glad that someone so young enjoyed a piece of music that I myself listened to at his age, and by one I was fortuante enough to have been friends with. I have so many stories of experiences and of songs.
For more than a decade I have found listening to this music to be an emotional experience, as memories of my entire life flood back to me during the tunes. I remember sitting in the back seat of a car when I was 15, as friends drove around Creston BC listening to the Vaudeville style music of one tune. I thought the song was weird. Then hours later we watched him in concert, his long blonde hair shining in the lights, contrasted by his black leather coat.

I have seen many of his concerts over the years, both in the audience and side stage. All of them magical. That's when Larry was at his best, and shone for God. That's when the man Larry moved aside and the God vessel showed up.
One year, after I hadn't seen him for a while, he came to town and did a concert. I went. The whole night I was hoping he wouldn't do his song "Goodbye", because I find it so sad. He wrote it when he was in the hospital in Sweden after his first major heart attack. Well, when the evening was drawing to a close and Larry was taking requests, I heard this voice come from inside me. I shouted "Goodbye". And Larry sang it. I cried a bit, as I am now, thinking of the day that I would have to say goodbye to his mortal body. Thinking of the time I sat by his bed and heard him tell me how much he loves his boy. Thinking of so many memories that I have of him before and after our friendship began. So many to write here. Words come to me in torrents, but they won't make sense to those who weren't there because the images are so powerful that they can't be portrayed in the right way. I have to end here for now.

Good-bye, farewell, we'll meet again.
Somewhere beyond the sky.
I pray that you will stay with God.
Good-bye, my friends, good-bye.

The light grows dim, but in this hour,
I have no tears to cry.
My heart is full, my joy complete.
Good-bye, my friends, good-bye.

I feel no loss of hope as I grow older
Only this world weight upon my shoulder.

My heart beats to a slower song
So softly in my veins.
The night is warm, but in my sleep,
I dream of heavens reign.

Everything I am, I've tried to show you
In this life I’ve been so blest to know you
Good-bye, farewell, we'll meet again.
Somewhere beyond the sky.
I pray that you will walk with God.
Good-bye, my friends, good-bye.
Good-bye, my friends, good-bye.

Transition

2008-02-17T11:52:00.003-08:00

I like change. Before those who know me laugh at that, I like the variety of new environments or new places. But I have a hard time with transition. It involves so much work. And I'm a conservative person when it comes to risk.
So, here I find myself, at another new phase in life. I don't mean the fact that I'm married less than 2 years and we're living with our blended family of 3 boys - aged 10, 17, 20. I mean that I now have an upcoming change in my professional life.
I often agonize over major decisions. I want to be impulsive, but I look at things from so many angles when they impact finances and business. When the option to start the restaurant was proposed, I was the one who took the longest to say yes, because I saw the risk and the tip of iceberg of work that it would require. It is way more difficult than I initially thought, and I thought it would be fairly time consuming. Let's just say "consuming" is the word to describe it.
This last few months it has been difficult to have a life with the demands of my work contracts and juggling the restaurant as well. Something has had to give, and it has been difficult to come to the decision about that, because I need the money from my contracts. But I, the non-risk person, have had to come to a conclusion. I have given notice at one of my contracts where I work 3 days a week. I'll be spending more time at the restaurant, where I'll be able to help cook for lunch rushes, do the books there rather than at home (hopefully) and continue with administrative and creative input. I don't know that this will reduce my workload, because I tend to have a brain that spins about work stuff, but it is at least more of a streamlining of my life.
If I said that this change hasn't caused me some anxiety I would be lying. It means a change to the uncertain. It isn't "safe", because the restaurant is new and we have to figure out where my pay will come from.
I have had a lot of change in my life this last few years, and none of it is boring! But despite that, it is good. I have a patient loving husband, kids who love me (and vice versa), and never a dull moment. But honestly, I could use a couple of good shopping trips......for something other than massive quantities of groceries.

Hiatus

2007-11-28T16:53:00.000-08:00

It has been a while again since I've written. Rather than the 10 of you having to check weekly to see if there is a new post, I'll let you know that I'm suspended until mid-January. Jobs, restaurant, church and family are all on the go at the same thime. With the Christmas season coming, these all increase in their time demands. So, check me again in mid-January to see if things are a bit better.

Of course, before I go, I have a story.

Practise grace and kindness with each other.

Real life?

2007-10-31T21:05:00.001-07:00

My step-son Ben (who is 17) got married a few months ago. He and his wife had a baby boy named Lyric. He also had a baby with a friend, and his wife doesn't mind.

Ben's friend Beau recently married someone a few years older than him, straight from Scotland. By the way, Beau is Lyric's godfather.

Ben's ex-girlfriend asked Scott to have a baby, but he said no. He couldn't do that to me.

Sound like a Payton Place? It's called Facebook Life. I'm amazed at the detail of the lives they lead there. Even Lyric has a full description and his beginning of life bio.

This is a sophisticated playing house game, up several notches from when I was a kid. I'm a little old to join, but maybe I'll have a baby too. This one will be a girl. I'm taking name requests, if you have any.

How Far I've Come

2007-10-23T17:50:00.000-07:00

I moved into the Williams guy's household over a year ago. I brought a guy of my own. Before that time I liked eating balanced meals at the kitchen table, unless I was skipping supper for a bowl of popcorn or cereal.

I have been indoctrinated into guyland. Tonight it was MY idea to buy pizza, and Nathan, Matthew and I ate it standing in the kitchen, straight out of the cardboard box. And Coke? I almost always refuse it, but without any thought I poured myself a glass and as it passed my lips I laughed at becoming one of the Williams household.

Maybe one of them will start wearing a dress to balance the gender scale once in a while. Oh yeah, Nathan has worn one of my lingerie teddy's before. I haven't been able to wear it since. Just seems too................

Damaged

2007-10-23T17:38:00.001-07:00

If you've been checking my blog and wondering why I'm not writing, I have another handy excuse. We opened the restaurant October 5th after an intense 4 day reno. We operated for 5 days (closed Thanksgiving) with a lot of food prep work happening many hours a day, lots of trips to the grocery store, learning the menu and advertising with clients. Then a water connection in the sealing burst apart overnight and we closed for 4 days. Oh, you would think that means a break, but there was food to throw out because of the fridge that shorted due to water pouring on it, inventories to be done, and new batches to be prepped. We make our sauces and baking and calzones in house, so that stuff takes time (but I think it's worth it for the most part). There was water to mop, floors, walls, appliances to clean, and other electronic items were sent out for fixing or will now need to be replaced. Much of the floors will need to be redone (again) and some walls might have to be torn out and replaced because of internal moisture affecting the gyproc composition. You can't tell too much when you glance at it. It looks pretty good from the outside.

But we know what has happened and the work that we still need to do, once the insurance company and restoration crew are ready to rebuild. We hear the squeaks because we know what it was like before the damage.

This reminds me of the delicacy of our lives. Something happens to people sometimes which causes an "interruption in service". I experienced that myself a few years ago. Only those who knew me could see what was happening inside - how things were different. And now I'm rebuilding, even though the beginning was tough. Have you experienced this?

You know, God knows us. He sees the squeaks and the leaks and the damaged walls. Walls...maybe the damaged ones should be torn down and not replaced. Perhaps an "open concept" is best for you anyways. Scary, because people can see the things you might not want them to or your messy areas. But sometimes that can be the best.

Soul Food

2007-10-07T09:59:00.001-07:00

I haven't blogged much about the new restaurant and the behind the scenes stuff. Just a couple examples are the menu sampling nights every Thursday, where our family and usually 5 other people ate what we were considering using on the menu. Josh (the chef) and I cooked together for 3 hours each of those days, making doughs, pastas, and desserts from the foundation up. There were also Bible study nights, where I tried new desserts. Countless trips to the grocery store, so much licensing legwork, utilities to hook up and decor to be planned and purchased. Scott and Lori handled all that stuff. Mat has researched food industry service and management ideas, and Ben has written up the coffee service menu, along with descriptions of how to make the items. Briant (the cafe owner who sold us the place) has provided valuable advice, and given us pointers on navigating the licensing and day to day operations.

This has been so much work, and it looks like the load will be so much heavier now that we're open. As clients have packed the restaurant at times over the last two days, and we've been crazy busy in the kitchen, I've wondered how we got into this restauranteur position with no experience. I've thought that it's one thing to plan for and another thing to have people to serve. It can be overwhelming for someone like me, who isn't a risk taker. But I also find it exciting to be in the kitchen, things swirling around me, my brain ticking to time things just right (I really need to work on that).

Josh and I were talking yesterday about what I like about this. I used to be a person who ate only to exist and ate only a few kinds of items - just ask my mother who had to deal with my peculiarities. But lately I have been enjoying the array of flavours that come with taking a chance in the kitchen. For me, I see the relationships and memories and emotions that happen when people gather together over the table. I enjoy being part of that experience, through the food that is provided. It is warmth to the soul. Josh calls it fellowship.

Last night I had a moving moment during church. Instead of being on stage this week, I was helping in the kitchen. I missed being out there, but we had people to feed on our first club night in the place. I could hear the music in the kitchen, and Josh and I were singing along to the songs. We had moments of our church in there too. I could hear enthusiasm and comradery, as I have on many occasions. I was feeding them. It was community. This is what we have hoped for with club, and it continues to be that.

I don't know what God has in mind for this business and this ministry. It may succeed in measurable standards, or it may not. We'll move with what we figure He says to do. That's all we can do, and let Him take care of the rest.

Pastor's What?

2007-09-25T15:53:00.000-07:00

At church this weekend a woman introduced herself and asked me if my husband is a pastor. I paused, because that kind of question is new to me. After my brief hesitation I pointed at Scott and said I was married to him. I thought that was a good response which clarified who my husband was, and she could draw whatever pastor" conclusions she wanted from there. But I guess my response wasn't as brilliant as I thought, because the question came back via rephrasing. She referred to Scott as the pastor and asked me if I'm the pastor's wife. Now faced with the same kind of question twice, I had to answer yes.
A long time ago Scott blogged about being at the US border and having been asked what his profession was. He struggled with no longer answering that he was a minister, but instead saying he worked in the IT field. I found the reverse to be true on Saturday. I'm not used to being connected with a pastor, whether you think he is officially one or not. There are so many preconceptions about pastors and what qualities their wives possess.

Almost one year ago we were painting the cafe that we are about to repaint next week. Lori and Tysey and Rose were with me, and the topic turned to being a pastor's wife. Questions were asked like: Do I feel different in that role than others I've had (like banking)? How do I feel about it?
My response was that at that time I didn't feel any different married to a church planter than not married to a church planter. I don't feel that I have to be a certain way, and maybe that's because our "church" is small and by traditional church standards insignificant. I don't have to lead a woman's group, play the piano in church, counsel women, head up the prayer chain, arrange for meals to be taken to widows and sick people. If God told me that I should do those things I would - well, maybe we would have to get more sick people and start a prayer chain first. I sing in church because I like to, and there is a spot for me. Scott teaches a Bible Study in our home, and I am one of the people who provides food because I like to. I have relationships within the church because we are in community and that's what community is about.

I don't have a problem being a pastor's wife. I do have a problem with those who might think this should denote a certain level of involvement or behaviour or mannerism based on stereotyping. Here is what I believe.

We are all called to be the ministers of the gospel. I've said it before. So, that means that although Scott might spend concentrated pockets of time doing church work and is expected to put in a certain amount of time with the people and the event, he is doing his piece of calling. I am doing mine, Lori hers, Rose hers, Mat his, Sam hers and on down the line. We are all the same, and all have our impact for Christ.

Now the rest of the story

2007-09-15T16:05:00.000-07:00

There is more to tell from my last blog. Our water tour last Sunday was fabulous, though not without incident.

While we were at the river/stream at Allco Park, Matthew shouted that his lens fell out of the glasses he has had for only a month. They had fallen on the pavement at school and been stepped on by a student, lens popping out. So, with the thought of replacing the new glasses, we searched the river bank and Matthew waded into the water to try to find the lens.

We didn't find it, so we went on to the next spot - Cliff Falls.

We were walking around the rocks and streams at the falls, when Matthew jumped across a stream and came too close to the edge of a precipice. My attempt to get him to come away resulted in him backing up closer to the edge, until he figured out what I meant and walked away from the edge. Danger averted, we continued exploring the cool formations in the rocks.

Then at the cliff jumping place, I tried over and over to take pictures of Matthew mid-jump. All I got was the launch, and the landing. You have to fill in the rest.

I did manage to take this awesome picture of one of the other jumpers. Such a good day.

Oh...once we got home Matthew found his missing lens on the floor of his room. He managed to travel for an hour without noticing one was missing from the glasses he was wearing, until he noticed at the river that it was gone. Too funny.

What a Whirlwind Summer

2007-09-10T08:47:00.000-07:00

This has been quite a summer. The weather - not so great. The vacations - fabulous! The pace - hectic.
Our one year anniversary passed just over a month ago. When I review life since we wed, it's amazing how much change has happened. Scott has worked a few different jobs, most of the all at once, Church has relocated to the cafe and developed its own identity, perhaps different than our original idea; but that's a good thing. Our kids have gone through personal changes, the family structure has and is adapting, my mom has joined us in Mission (at her own place) and we bought a business. We have been trying so many recipes for suppers and snaks and desserts!
I have some very great memories of moments this summer. One of them was yesterday, when Scott, Matthew and I took a brief water tour. We started at Allco Park in Maple Ridge, where we got married. There is a small river (stream) that we waded in. Then we went to Cliff Falls, where we walked around some of the eddied pools and looked at the holes carved in the rock from many years of water pressure eroding it. Those pictures will come later. Then we went to Hayward Lake where Scott and Matthew jumped off the "dog jump". It's about 15 feet, and every time Mathew self-talks that he shouldn't be scared, it's just water. I would be doing the same thing, but I'm old enough to do it in my head not out loud.
We had fabulous vacations, first alone for days, then later with family for a week. Here are a couple of pictures I really like.
Well, I'm off to work now, then tonight I'm going through more recipes for the Grill. It's a sunshiny day -yay!

Advertisement for Parent

2007-08-28T19:40:00.000-07:00

My mom sent me the following. Do you think she is making a point about something?

POSITION :
Mom, Mommy, Mama, Ma
Dad, Daddy, Dada, Pa, Pop

JOB DESCRIPTION :

Long term, team players needed, for challenging permanent work in an, often chaotic environment.
Candidates must possess excellent communication and organizational skills and be willing to work variable hours, which will include evenings and weekends and frequent 24 hour shifts on call.
Some overnight travel required, including trips to primitive camping sites on rainy weekends and endless sports tournaments in far away cities!
Travel expenses not reimbursed.
Extensive courier duties also required.

RESPONSIBILITIES :

The rest of your life.
Must be willing to be hated, at least temporarily, until someone needs $5.
Must be willing to bite tongue repeatedly.
Also, must possess the physical stamina of a pack mule and be able to go from zero to 60 mph in three seconds flat in case, this time, the screams from the backyard are not someone just crying wolf.
Must be willing to face stimulating technical challenges, such as small gadget repair, mysteriously sluggish toilets and stuck zippers.
Must screen phone calls, maintain calendars and coordinate production of multiple homework projects.
Must have ability to plan and organize social gatherings for clients of all ages and mental outlooks.
Must be willing to be indispensable one minute, an embarrassment the next.
Must handle assembly and product safety testing of a half million cheap, plastic toys, and battery operated devices.
Must always hope for the best but be prepared for the worst.
Must assume final, complete accountability for the quality of the end product.
Responsibilities also include floor maintenance and janitorial work throughout the facility.

POSSIBILITY FOR ADVANCEMENT & PROMOTION :

None.
Your job is to remain in the same position for years, without complaining, constantly retraining and updating your skills, so that those in your charge can ultimately surpass you.

PREVIOUS EXPERIENCE :

None required unfortunately.
On-the-job training offered on a continually exhausting basis.

WAGES AND COMPENSATION :

Get this! You pay them! Offering frequent raises and bonuses.
A balloon payment is due when they turn 18 because of the assumption that college will help them become financially independent.
When you die, you give them whatever is left.
The oddest thing about this reverse-salary scheme is that you actually enjoy it and wish you could only do more.

BENEFITS :

While no health or dental insurance, no pension, no tuition reimbursement, no paid holidays and no stock options are offered; this job supplies limitless opportunities for personal growth, unconditional love, and free hugs and kisses for life if you play your cards right.

Disconnect

2007-08-10T18:19:00.000-07:00

I've read a few books since spring. Try not to fall off your chair at the thought. I've completed: The Kingdom of God is a Party, Messy Spirituality, Barbarian Way, and now am reading It's Friday but Sunday's Comin'. I found some great truths in each book. Generally people rate great truths as things that agree with their own views. I guess I do too, but also when my views are challenged it causes me to think of some things that normally wouldn't cross my mind. I like that as well, even though at those times I might feel frustrated or emotional about my perception of the writer or his viewpoints. The Barbarian Way was such a book.
I typically copy pages that have sections which prompt more thought (either agreement or disagreement) than others. Sometimes afterwards I don't know why I really liked them. Like when you tag a page of a fashion magazine and upon review wonder what attracted you to it in the first place. Maybe it's better to blog about them while they're fresh than save them for months - I don't know. A recent section in Sunday's Comin' speaks to me.
"If a counselor believes that persons can make decisions that have the potential to transform them into new creatures, I shout 'Hurrah!' But when counseling becomes nothing more than an analysis of the past in the belief that insight into the factors conditioning the person's present personality will deliver him in health and happiness, I object."
I will agree with people who say that the past influences who a person is. I continue to work through my own phobias and emotions based on my life experiences. They influence me, and as I strive to break them, their effect on me diminishes. Sometimes I intentionally put myself in situations that have created phobia so that I can deal with the fear rationally. I am unlikely to drown while swimming or boating or crossing a bridge. I know that this "human conditioning" is best when there is also a spiritual element. I pray about stuff and admit to God that I don't want certain things anymore. As a situation brings up fear or negative memory I can stop and think of God's presence with me, telling him that I want him to be brave with me because perhaps sometimes being brave alone feels....alone.
"No matter what our backgrounds happen to be, we all have options. There are always alternatives from which we can choose." One of the factors is if we REALLY want to make the choice(s), especially when it's easier to continue as is.
"...the past does not determine who a person is."
You might be a product of your environment, your health problems, your past. It influences you, but it doesn't have to control who you are today. You are not helpless in the equation of what you are, can become, and are in Christ.

Thought done - for now.

Happy Birthday Scott

2007-07-31T22:28:00.000-07:00

This past weekend we celebrated Scott's birthday and our first anniversary. Well, we celebrated as much as we could with church on Saturday night, and me being on the couch sick all day Sunday. But, we consider that all our gift and romantic time was at the cabin the previous week. Except for a gift for Scott. Something he has wanted for many years. Now if only he could last longer than 3 seconds....
...on the unicycle - what were you thinking?

Matthew's return from camp

2007-07-23T22:41:00.000-07:00

On the way back from our holiday, we got Matthew from his 5 day camp. He had a fabulous time of course. As I unpacked his bag, I saw just how fabulous it was, in boy terms.

Packed by me: 5 pairs of underwear
Unpacked, folded and not used: 4 pairs of underwear.
Packed: 4 pairs of socks
Unpacked: 2 pairs, not used.
Packed: 1 bar soap (no shampoo)
Unpacked: you can guess whether the soap container was ever opened.
His feet were so black it took 2 showers/baths to clean them.

That's a successful week at camp!

We're Back

2007-07-21T16:37:00.000-07:00

Last night we returned from 5 days at the cabin. It was great! The weather wasn't very sunny, except for the day we ended up driving almost 2 hours to get to a 25 minute destination. We saw a lot of little lakes on that "shortcut".
Here are some pictures.
From our bedroom window, while laying in bed:

From our kitchen window.

Canoeing:

Some book reading.

It was a wonderful 5 days, in time for our first anniversary.

On Vacation

2007-07-15T10:20:00.000-07:00

Scott and I are heading out for a 5 day vacation here:

It will be a great first anniversary retreat, with the bugs and leeches.

Actually, I'm kidding about the last part. My boss was gracious enough to give me this present, for which I'm very thankful.

We'll see you next weekend!

Dog in Pool

2007-07-08T23:13:00.000-07:00

I think I should teach Angus this trick. But first maybe I should buy a house with a pool.....

2007-07-01T23:02:00.000-07:00

It can be tough to parent. For me, so much emotion is wrapped up in it, from almost every part of the spectrum. There are definitely frustrations with parenting a busy, self-assured, obstinate comedian.

Last night at church I thought Matthew was being quite good other than disappearing in the bathroom for a long time. I didn't know he was in the bathroom until I was about to leave the stage to go look for him and I saw him coming down the hallway, looking at me and going "Phew". What was that about? Did he pass a train through his butt and was he then 'relieved'? A couple more trips to the bathroom ensued and I noticed a toy he had was wet. This was very suspicious. I filed that memory for later.
I myself had to use the bathroom before leaving, and noticed (oddly enough) that the floor was wet under the toilet. Remembering the wet toy, I used circumstantial evidence to isolate the guilty subject, and decided that it was more expeditious at that point to just clean up the water myself. As I did, I noticed that water was dripping from the lid of the tank. Weird. I lifted that lid, and the water from the refill hose squirted me in the face. More evidence. I fought with it, trying to fix the workings inside, calling Matthew while I did. He arrived..."What mom?" I confronted him with my question about him moving things around in the tank, and he thought about the predicament. Fortunately he fessed up, but that didn't reduce the angst or the "lecture". As the story unravelled, I found out that he had decided to put lots of toilet paper into the tank, then flushed it. It looked like it was going to jam, so he figured tampering with the workings inside the toilet would help it to flush better. He changed where the hose pointed, got the other little hose caught on the lever that opens the hole, and pointed the water sideways instead of down the tube. Minor stuff hey? This was discovered right after I had cleaned up his table, and thought the salt and pepper shaker felt weird when I picked them up. Yeah, he had loosened the lids, hoping they would fall off and overflow someone's plate with their contents. That was another conversation. He was definitely on a roll.

My boy gets into trouble. I know another boy who used to as well, perhaps in different ways. This boy spent all of grade 4 in the hallway. I think if he was at Matthew's school he would have been suspended. His grade 3 teacher wrote in his report card "Scott thinks he runs the class and frankly I'm getting sick of it." Sometimes I think of these things when Matthew is in trouble. Scott has turned out pretty good, which gives me hope.

I've had some great moments with Matthew today. We played swords with sticks. I love that. We went to the beach. We cuddled while I told him scary stories with funny endings. He was apprehensive during the suspenseful parts, but ended up laughing with his head thrown back. He wants more stories soon, with the same monster.
I wrapped my arms around him during the fireworks tonight. I kept saying "I think they're over now" (they weren't) and he kept saying "I think there's more" (there usually were). He was so happy to stay up later and to see the fireworks. Then we dropped mom off at her house, and Matthew went in with her in the waning light, to get something. As he came out from the back of the house while I waited in the truck, I saw mom's flashlight shine on the path, and my little boy running as fast as he could with an uncertain, excited smirk on his face. He ripped open the truck door and flung himself in to safety. I smiled and said "Were you scared of the dark?" He answered yes. I'm glad he wasn't embarrassed about it with me. I said "Well, a lot of kids are, so that's okay." He responded that some kids are afraid of the dark, to reassure both of us that it was acceptable. I told him that I was for years.

I get so wrapped up in the intensity of the bad stuff. It temporarily immobilizes me from seeing much good. But then, there are moments like we have had today. Those are good for the soul.

The Image of Words

2007-06-25T18:35:00.000-07:00

I work in a non-profit which connects self-employed contractors and businesses. We match services to needs. Where we are a bit different is that most of our contractors have some kind of health issue, whether or not they are currently experiencing active symptoms of that health problem. Some people suffer from the pain of arthritis or migraines, others are paraplegic. Scott even made it to a contract assignment once - we do take healthy people to. I'll let you decide what "side" he is on. By the way, we also take people with some mental health issues (read between the lines).

This concept, begun by an entrepeneur with vast experience in the disability services field, started as primarily a social enterprise aspect, as a support for those who had great skills and experience, and needed to tailor their work hours and environment. In its inception a tagline "A Solution for Everybody" was developed. This was considered to handle the description well. Reliable Business Outsourcing is a solution for the contractor, as it meets their need to increase their marketing potential and increase their flexibility in work choices. This is also a solution for the businesses, because they don't have to advertise for an employee, interview, train, and manage as many people. They get a contractor for a short term of time, to fill the work need.
I know this sounds like an ad. It actually isn't, so please be patient.

At a meeting recently, what came out loud and clear from the contractors is that man of them have made a business decision to become self-employed, and they want to be marketed based on their ability, not their disability. Well, that makes sense. We were already trying to do that, but we also included some information about being a not-for-profit social enterprise. As we talked with the group we realized that "A Solution for Everybody" was vague and could best be explained from the angle of disabilities. We came to the conclusion that the social enterprise nature of this agency is alive from within, and doesn't need to be displayed strongly to the businesses. So, someone pitched the idea of "Real People Doing Real Work".

Have you been part of a process where something morphs and you think you have the answer? We tabled the tagline, though we were excited about it, and I was wondering why we didn't adopt it right then.

Now we're voting on the tagline, and what sounded great in the meeting doesn't sound so great with a few weeks breather in between. In fact, it raises the question: "If these people are real, what are the rest of the people?" We understood its transition and definition, but really it still addressed disabilities. We felt it was a power statement as to ability, but it still pointed to the fact that somehow there needed to be a catchy way of differentiating these people, when in fact it is the skill we want to differentiate. We haven't chosen a new tagline yet, but this process reminds me of something else.

Words are strong. They invoke images, gruesome, beautiful, Godly, sinful. They heal lives and destroy others. Often our use of them is inadequate for what we want to convey, yet other times the sting of them is deadly. One thing is certain. A written or spoken word directed at someone takes effect in most cases. And especially true is when those words are used to slash and deliver revenge.

I know some of those kind of people, whether they want to be that way or not. But even more, I know encouragers. These people don't often understand the importance or ways of their words. They don't even have to say much. In fact, perhaps these are the people who don't speak a lot. They just speak hope.

When words are many, sin is not absent, but he who holds his tongue is wise. (Proverbs 19:19)

What do you think?

2007-06-23T16:43:00.000-07:00

So, I have to make a decision soon about if I'm going to join Facebook. A lot of people I know are on it, and Tysey has sent me an invitation. But I don't know if I want to join. I'm usually late to join a fad, and this is one of those times. I have two things I'm wondering about.

Do I have enough time? It seems some people put a lot of time and effort into setting up their profiles, tagging photos, sending messages to lots of people that they might not via regular email. Will it be snobbish or uncool if I do the minimum? And will I spend hours in it, out of curiosity?

How secure or private is it? We teach our teens not to reveal too much information about ourselves for strangers to figure out who they are and where they hang out. Are we folllowing the same guidelines with Facebook? I understand that a full profile can't be viewed without an invitation, but what about when you join a mutual group?

Can you give me some input?

Chocolate Souffle - serves 6

2007-06-19T22:01:00.000-07:00

Here is the other souffle recipe. I've made it only once, but people loved it and thought it was a light, rich chocolate treat. I figured brownies would have been good too, but these more unique.

175 g (6 oz or 1 1/4 cups) chopped dark chocolate
5 eggs, separated
60 g (2 1/4 or 1/4 cup) superfine sugar, plus extra for dusting. For this, I bought berry sugar and then blended it until very fine. Probably you don't have to blend it though. Another recipe I have calls for regular sugar, but I haven't tried that one.
2 egg whites, extra
Icing sugar, for dusting

Preheat oven to 400C and put a baking tray into the oven to warm.

Use 6 ramekins, or one souffle/casserole dish. You can (should) make the walls 2 inches higher by putting aluminum foil around the dish, and securing to itself with tape. Baking paper can also be used. The souffle can rise better this way. Brush the dish(es) with butter/margarine, and dust with the extra superfine sugar, shaking out the excess. The sugar helps the souffle to grip the sides.

Place the chopped chocolate in a large heatproof bowl set over a saucepan of simmering water, making sure the base of the bowl doesn't touch the water. Stir until the chocolate is melted and smooth, then remove the bowl from the saucepan. Stir in the egg yolks and superfine sugar.

Beat the 7 egg whites until stiff peaks form. Gently fold one-third of the egg whites into the chocolate mixture to loosen it. Then fold in the remaining egg whites until just combined.

Spoon the mixture into the prepared dish(es) and run your thumb or a blunt knife around the inside rim of the dish and the edge of the mixture. This helps the souffle to rise evenly. Place the ramekins on the preheated baking tray, into the oven, and pour one inch of hot tap water on the tray. One recipe doesn't include water, so I'll leave that up to you. I did it to be sure that it would work, and it did. Bake for 12-15 minuets, or until well risen and just set. Do not open the oven doors while baking.

Serve immediately, lightly dusted with sifted icing sugar.

2007-06-19T08:27:00.000-07:00

My son, being a typical boy with high energy on top of that, doesn't like school very much. No offense to his great teachers, but he likes recess and lunch the best. Put him in a chair where he has to listen and be quiet doesn't work well for his "center of attention" temperament.
When I drop Matthew at school each morning, he doesn't complain. He is happy, because he is a morning person. It isn't a fight to get him there. It's the "there" that is the challenge. But although he isn't grumpy, he also isn't fast when walking to class. He has gotten better at maintaining an average pace, but initially I used to have to open the window as I was leaving the parking lot and encourage him to keep going up the stairs to class.
This morning was different. They were going to the Vancouver Aquarium. Matthew was in my room early this morning, to remind me that it was Aquarium Day. He was ready well in advance, waiting to be driven to school. When I dropped him off he RAN all the way down the sidewalk and up the stairs.
I wish every day was Aquarium Day.

Don't fear the fluffy stuff

2007-06-17T19:18:00.000-07:00

I had heard of souffle, and it had a bad reputation. Shows had talked about them falling easily (like almost all the time) and burning. But then I tried souffle myself, and no! those were lies. Don't let these light entrees and desserts intimidate you - they're easy to bake to perfection. Allow yourself some time for the flavoring ingredients and to whip it. I'll post an entree recipe, and a dessert one another day. I have purchased ramekins from the dollar store at a good price, to make individual portions. You can do that, or use one round casserole dish (with a flat bottom). Don't grease the dishes. You will also need a pan to set it in, that water will be poured into for "oven poaching". Oven temperature is 375F.

Cheese Souffle (serves 4-5)

First you need to cook and crumble 3 slices of bacon. While you are doing this, make the following white sauce.

3 Tbsp butter or margarine
3 Tbsp flour
1 cup milk
1/4 tsp salt
Seasonings of pepper, celery salt, a little grated onion, a pinch of dry mustard (or whatever you think is good).

Melt butter/margarine in saucepan. Remove from heat and stir in flour and salt. Add liquid slowly, stirring constantly until sauce is thickened and smooth.

Here are the rest of the ingredients:
1 cup shredded sharp Cheddar cheese, grated
4 egg yolks
4-5 egg whites
1 small onion, sauteed in the leftover bacon fat

Add all but a spoonful of cheese to the sauce along with the bacon and coked onion. Stir until the cheese melts; cool slightly.
Separate the eggs; beat the yolks lightly and stir the warm sauce into them. With a clean beater, beat the whites until stiff but not dry; stir one spoonful into the sauce. Fold the sauce into the remainder. You want it to be mixed gently so not to crush the air out of it.
Pour into your dish(es); sprinkle the reserved cheese on top.

Put the dishes in the oven pan, and put into the oven. Then pour water in the pan (not the souffle dishes) to at least halfway up the dish, if possible.

Cook for 20-25 minutes for individual dishes, or 40 minutes for larger dish. I don't usually need to test it much, but if you do, here are instructions.
Test 5 minutes before recommended finish time by moving the dish slightly. If the top seems firm, press it gently with the finger; if the crust springs back, it is done. Remove only when ready to eat immediately. If you aren't quite ready, leave in the oven with the heat off.
It might sag a bit once it starts to cool but this doesn't affect it's light texture.

Never Lie to Your Mother

2007-06-11T22:09:00.000-07:00

Brian invited his mother over for dinner. During the course of the meal, Brian's mother couldn't help but notice how beautiful Brian's roommate, Jennifer, was. Brian's Mom had long been suspicious of a relationship between Brian and Jennifer, and this had only made her more curious. Over the course of the evening, while watching the two interact, she started to wonder if there was more between Brian and Jennifer than met the eye.

Reading his mom's thoughts, Brian volunteered, "I know what you must be thinking, but I assure you Jennifer and I are just roommates."
About a week later, Jennifer came to Brian saying, "Ever since your mother came to dinner, I've been unable to find the beautiful silver gravy ladle. You don't suppose she took it, do you?"
Brian said, "Well, I doubt it, but I'll send her an e-mail just to be sure. So he sat down and wrote:
Dear Mom: I'm not saying that you "did" take the gravy ladle from the house, I'm not saying that you "did not" take the gravy ladle. But the fact remains that one has been missing ever since you were here for dinner.

Love, Brian

Several days later, Brian received an email back from his mother that read: Dear Son: I'm not saying that you "do" sleep with Jennifer, I'm not saying that you "do not" sleep with Jennifer. But the fact remains that if Jennifer is sleeping in her own bed, she would have found the gravy ladle by now.

Love, Mom

2007-06-04T22:20:00.000-07:00

I've been reading Messy Spirituality. When I say reading, I mean I have borrowed the book, started it, then it has been confiscated on a number of occasions by Nathan and Scott , then returned to me once they have finished it. Although I was the first to begin, I am the only one not finished. I'm just waiting for them to give it to someone else to read before I can finish the last couple of chapters!
One section of the book talks about something with which I identify. When I was a teen, our church went to the seniour citizen lodge and to the hospital. I was never comfortable with this. Some people are great with seniours - it's their gift. So, as the book talked about a man who stood at the back of the room during these visits I understood. But the guy (Daryl) did much better than me. As a man reached out and took his hand, he waited. Something touched his own life experience, and he didn't want to leave the man. But he had to go with the group, and unexplainably He expressed some sentiment with the seniour, and before he left told him he loved him. That was a strange thing to do to a stranger.
Every month Daryl came back and stood in the back, holding the man's hand. Words weren't exchanged between the two, but still Daryl would say "I love you" before leaving.
One day when Daryl came to the home, the man wasn't in the service. He went to the nurse, who escorted Daryl to the man (Oliver's) room. He was dying. Daryl stayed with Oliver as long as he could, but it came time to leave with the group. He squeezed Oliver's hand and said he loved him. Oliver squeezed back, and then Daryl turned to leave.
At the door was a woman, Oliver's granddaughter. She told Daryl that the night before Oliver woke up and told her to say goodbye to Jesus for him. Then he closed his eyes. She told him that she didn't need to say goodbye because he was going to be with Jesus soon. He replied "I know, but Jesus comes to see me every month, and he might not know I've gone." With that, he slipped into silence.

There are so many things I'm not comfortable doing. I try to cover my insecurities by not doing many of the things that are difficult for me, but sometimes that isn't possible. Or maybe more accurately, I MUST do some of those things. At one time that was teaching Sunday School, or going to the retirement home, or saying something in church when I know it isn't easy. Sometimes it's hard for me to say hello to a new person, or a person I know a bit. Sometimes I suck at being Jesus and turn the other way because I'm lazy or nervous or tired. But perhaps sometimes I manage to come through.
I can think of a few people who have become Him at different points of my life. There are people who are what I can't be, or what I wish I was. We are all reflections of Him at some point or another, even if we don't see it. Because sometimes Jesus comes in a subtle way that perhaps others don't see ... but it's not about the masses. It's about the one.

No Stranger to Danger

2007-05-28T22:03:00.000-07:00

A while ago Scott told the story of finding the White House phone number in a Trivial Pursuit game, and trying it out to see if it was legit. It worked. Apparently CSIS called him to follow up on this phone call. It was flagged as unusual.

Now it seems weird that they would be so concerned that a "nobody" call the White House. This incident, when told by itself, seems like a piece of trivia itself. But this week I found out more.
You see, Scott was already in the CSIS database, and a repeat violation of protocol would have escalated their concern, prompting immediate response.

When he was in grade 5, one assignment was to write an essay on any country of his choice. Many of his classmates chose the United States, England, and other "safe" countries. These were the years of the Cold War and the Iron Curtain, which made Soviet nations unappealing. Of course, not to Scott, who loves conspiracies and the history of human conflict.

Not satisfied with education from books alone, Scott found the Ontario phone number for the Russian embassy and called it. They were more than happy to send him maps, tourism information, brochures. They were so glad to have someone want information (someone without a Russian accent for a change) and were extremely helpful.

The day after the phone call two men in suits came to visit at the house. CSIS. This was particularly disturbing for his dad, because he was in the Canadian Armed Forces. The government doesn't like spies or double agents.

I have married a hunted man.

Toilet Cleaning Instructions

2007-05-23T22:13:00.000-07:00

Lori, this is for you. I believe you have the right product for this job (unless you've gone to the golf course lately).

1. Put both lids of the toilet up and add 1/8 cup of pet shampoo to the water in the bowl.

2. Pick up the cat and soothe him while you carry him towards the bathroom.

3. In one smooth movement, put the cat in the toilet and close both lids. You may need to stand on the lid.

4. The cat will self agitate and make ample suds. Never mind the noises that come from the toilet, the cat is actually enjoying this.

5. Flush the toilet three or four times. This provides a "power-wash" and rinse".

6. Have someone open the front door of your home. Be sure that there are no people between the bathroom and the front door.

7. Stand behind the toilet as far as you can, and quickly lift both lids.

8. The cat will rocket out of the toilet, streak through the bathroom, and run outside where he will dry himself off.

9. Both the commode and the cat will be sparkling clean.

A Hair-Raising Week

2007-05-20T17:31:00.001-07:00

It was a stressful week here. It all started with Matthew. Sometimes it's hard to figure out the best way to parent a child.

You see, Matthew needed a haircut. At first he wanted it spiked, but then decided on another style. This is hard to talk about. He asked for --------- a mullet. I had to think long about that, because he wanted to look cool, and mullet said cool. So, I did it. Right now his hair isn't long enough in the back to really tell, and I won't shave the sides, so it's a pseudo-mullet.
A couple days later, Ben needed a haircut. No, he didn't get a mullet.
Scott has always encouraged the boys to express themselves and be true to their nature. But that doesn't extend to their choice of haircuts. He chooses instead to control the length of their hair, pouting if they cut it short. It has something to do with living vicariously....if he has to keep his hair short now in order for it to look okay, then the boys MUST let theirs grow long enough to wave and get in their eyes a bit. Ben told me I was absolved of responsibility in what I was about to do: give him a fohawk.
I don't think Scott is over it yet.

2007-05-17T17:30:00.000-07:00

I know I've been absent again lately. This has been increased by the fact that I've done a couple posts on my old blog, which is no longer listed. Opops! Here is the update on my life.

Mom came a week ago, and is staying with us. She found a place to live a couple days after arriving, so phew, no more looking. That's a relief for her. She moves at the end of May.
Nathan's 20th birthday is today, and his party was yesterday. My 20th was the most difficult birthday, because I was no longer a teen. I had to be a responsible adult (or so I thought). You can imagine that if it was tough for me, having a step-son turning 20 is also difficult. I have successfully managed to pass on this chagrin to Nathan, who has said that 20 sucks because he is no longer a teen (evil grin here). It's hard to think that I'm old enough to have a child (step-son) that age, because my perspective is from having a 9 year old. But I am 2 days older than Ben and Nathan's mom, so the reality is harshly true. OH!!!!!!!!

And now a Matthew story.
Although we teach our children that its bad to lie, we tell them half truths all the time. We don't answer questions fully if they're too young to understand or if they shouldn't know the real answer. We shield them from harm this way. We do things that we don't want them to see, thus sneaking and hiding it from them. I'm talking about candies - what were you thinking about?
I have always monitored how many sweets Matthew gets. For the first few years of his life, he wasn't allowed to have much at all (if any). Because I didn't want to tempt him, I would eat my chocolate with my back turned, and a cupboard or the fridge partially hiding me. Because I didn't want to tempt him beyond what he was able to bear. Or maybe it was because I didn't want to deal with a temper tantrum.
Matthew has been taught to share candies with me. At Halloween he knows that I get some of the candy. He doesn't mind, because he happily gives me anything with nuts.
Well, for 9 years I have managed to hide the fact that I use sugar on cereal. Call me a hypocrite, but I don't want him to...yet. So, recently Matthew saw me put sugar in a bowl of Cheerios. He surprisingly asked "You put sugar on your cereal?" I thought "Oh no, I've been discovered. I made it 9 years, but now caught." 9 Years! How could he not notice before now!
A few days later, he caught me again. I thought for sure this would peak his interest in applying sugar into his own cereal, but instead he said "I'm sorry mom, but I just don't want to have sugar in my cereal." He said it like he was offending me or something. Not at all! I was thinking I get to stave it off for another month.
Now the honey is another story. Somehow he has managed to get it on the dishwasher, cupboards, every counter, computer table, floor, and many other surfaces you can't imagine. Scott and I each cleaned twice that day, and I think the dog finished it all up.

Barbecued Pork Sandwiches (AKA Pulled Pork)

2007-05-04T20:47:00.000-07:00

This recipe is one of the family favorites. It is similar to Embers here in town, which is deeeeee-licious. Although a pork roast seems like an expensive idea, because the meat is shredded and served in a bun, the meat extends further than when sliced regularly in a meal. Try it and you'll probably like it a lot. I would recommend doing the dry rub the night before; you could also cook it in a crock pot as long as you extend the cooking time to ensure it is fall apart tender.

Use a 5 to 7 pound pork roast, preferably shoulder or Boston butt. Watch for sales and get a couple, then you're set and the cost is fabulous. A roast this size will serve 10-12 people. You can also buy one this size and half it before freezing.

12 hamburger buns
1 recipe Spicy Slaw, recipe follows

Dry Rub:
3 tablespoons paprika
1 tablespoon garlic powder
1 tablespoon brown sugar
1 tablespoon dry mustard
3 tablespoons coarse salt

Mix the paprika, garlic power, brown sugar, dry mustard, and salt together in a small bowl. Rub the spice blend all over the pork and marinate for as long as you have time for, as little as 1 hour or up to overnight, covered, in the refrigerator.
Preheat the oven to 300 degrees F.
Put the pork in a roasting pan with a bit of water in the bottom (no lid) and bake for about 6 hours. If the roast is halved, cook for about 4 to 5 hours. Basically, roast the pork until it's falling apart and an instant-read thermometer inserted into the thickest part registers 170 degrees F.

Remove the pork roast from the oven and transfer to a large platter. Allow the meat to rest for about 10 minutes. While still warm, take 2 forks and "pull" the meat to form shreds. Using 2 forks, shred the pork by steadying the meat with 1 fork and pulling it away with the other. Put the shredded pork in a bowl. Pour 1/2 of the sauce on the shredded pork and mix well to coat.

I don't use the following barbecue sauce recipe because we use a bit of Bullseye instead, mixed with a bit of water to thin it slightly. You can determine what is the right amount for you. I like it plentiful enough to soak into the shredded pork, but not so much that it drips.

Cider Vinegar Barbecue Sauce:
1 1/2 cups cider vinegar
1 cup yellow or brown mustard
1/2 cup ketchup
1/3 cup packed brown sugar
2 garlic cloves, smashed
1 teaspoon salt
1 teaspoon cayenne
1/2 teaspoon freshly ground black pepper

To make the barbecue sauce: combine the vinegar, mustard, ketchup, brown sugar, garlic, salt, cayenne, and black pepper in a saucepan over medium heat. Simmer gently, stirring, for 10 minutes until the sugar dissolves.

To serve, spoon the pulled pork mixture onto the bottom 1/2 of the hamburger bun, and top with the spicy slaw, or just some caramelized onions. Serve with the remaining sauce on the side, if you like to dip.

Spicy Slaw
1 head green cabbage, shredded
2 carrots, grated
1 red onion, thinly sliced
2 green onions, chopped
1 red chile, sliced
1 1/2 cups mayonnaise
1/4 cup Creole mustard
1 tablespoon cider vinegar
1 lemon, juiced
Pinch sugar
1/2 teaspoon celery seed
Several dashes hot sauce
Kosher salt and freshly ground black pepper

Combine the cabbage, carrot, red onion, green onions, and chile in a large bowl. In another bowl, mix the mayonnaise, mustard, vinegar, lemon juice, and sugar; stirring to incorporate. Pour the dressing over the cabbage mixture and toss gently to mix. Season the cole slaw with celery seed, hot sauce, salt, and pepper. Chill for 2 hours in refrigerator before serving.

Friendship Lost

2007-04-28T10:46:00.001-07:00

Scott beat me to a post that has been in my head this past week. But I think he did a far greater, more detailed one than I was thinking of. That being said, I have a couple things I wanted to say anyways.

For a while now we have been talking together about this topic. Some of you might be surprised that we talk about it, not particularly from the viewpoint of criticizing others, but we become introspective. We get hurt by gossip and confrontation, sure. We "vent" with each other. But we keep coming back to the same point. We don't want to be bitter. We want to forgive, as much as we can figure out how. We want to be more like what we believe Jesus wants us to be.

Destroyed relationships are painful. Not only is there the oppositional feelings/opinions which caused the fallout, but there are also the emotions of rejection and perhaps betrayal. Those emotions stem way back to early childhood, if we look at our life. Rejection of being teased, not picked for events, called names, not wearing the "right" clothes, a friend choosing someone else over your own friendship. There are years of depth to draw on where rejection is involved. Years of experience and unresolved situations to raise bitterness and fuel unforgiveness. Plus, we're right. All of us think that anyways. That makes the other person wrong - or does it? Perhaps that makes all of us wrong; at least a little bit. Even if you're the person who remembers everything exactly as it happened (sure) and who was totally 100% in the right, then perhaps what you're guilty of is not being able to let that event go and love. Perhaps lack of forgiveness is your sin. And Pride.

Jill posted this piece of poetry:

As we were walking hand in hand,
I tripped and thought you let go.
Anger swarmed me from every direction.
How could you do this, where are you?
Fending on my own, it only gets worse.
Calling out for you, I'm so cold.
So cold that I couldn't feel your grasp.
Why do you put up with my frustration?
I don't deserve you.
You never let go.

I don't know what she imagined when she wrote it, because I haven't asked her. But for me it speaks of a situation with God, and honestly it can be seen as talking about 2 people. Imagine that it isn't a hand that you're reading about in the poem. Maybe you think someone let go of their integrity. Or maybe they told one of your secrets and betrayed you. Or maybe they violated trust by __________. I'm sure you've had enough experiences to have an idea you're thinking of right now.
But what do you do when you visualize it? How does it make you feel? Are you angry? Righteously indignant? Are you "right"? How is this all working for you? How chewed up inside are you ?
Let it go. You're the one its killing. And likewise God's life-spirit in you too.
Let it go.

The Silver Lining

2007-04-27T08:26:00.000-07:00

A father passing by his son's bedroom was astonished to see that his bed was nicely made and everything was picked up. Then he saw an envelope, propped up prominently on the pillow that was addressed to "Dad." With the Worst premonition he opened the envelope with trembling hands and read the letter.

Dear Dad:
It is with great regret and sorrow that I'm writing you. I had to elope with my new girlfriend because I wanted to avoid a scene with Mom and you. I have been finding real passion with MaryBeth and she is so nice. But I knew you would not approve of her because of all her piercings, tattoos, tight clothes and the fact that she is much older than I am. But it's not only the passion...Dad she's pregnant. MaryBeth said that we will be very happy. She owns a trailer in the woods and has a stack of firewood for the whole winter. We share a dream of having many more children.
MaryBeth has opened my eyes to the fact that marijuana doesn't really hurt anyone. We'll be growing it for ourselves and trading it with the other people that live nearby for cocaine and ecstasy. In the meantime we will pray that science will find a cure for AIDS so MaryBeth can get better. She deserves it.
Don't worry Dad. I'm 15 and I know how to take care of myself. Someday I'm sure that we will be back to visit so that you can get to know your grandchildren.

Love,
Your Son John

PS. Dad, none of the above is true. I'm over at Tommy's house. I just wanted to remind you that there are worse things in life than the report card that's in my center desk drawer.
I love you.
Call me when it's safe to come home.

A Bit Untidy at Times

2007-04-21T17:32:00.000-07:00

Our house isn't as clean or organized as we usually like it right now. Things are strewn on different counters and chairs. Laundry has been cleaned and sits waiting to be put in its place, ready to be used again.
It isn't always like this, but it cycles. Sometimes we clean everything off and sort things and put stuff away. I like the way it looks when we do that. But it has to be done constantly in order to look the same, and really that isn't possible. We need to live in the space, and we get busy or unmotivated so things clutter again.
This week I talked with a friend about life and its struggles. He has had some the last few years, and there are even more that I don't know about from many years ago. I think we understood each other a bit even though we haven't really had much personal conversation.
I'm as messed up as you are, though maybe in different ways. I have given up thinking that I am a sane person surrounded by a sea of crazies. Anyone who thinks they have it all figured out and together is lying, self-deceived or...there's that crazy word popping into my head again. I have realized something while working through my struggles and growing in this adulthood. It's like my house.
When I look back over my lifetime I recognize things that shaped who I was, how I saw myself, and how I viewed the world. That's not an epiphany, for you can probably say the same thing. We are all shaped by our experiences, our families, church (if we go), surroundings. Sometimes we see that we need to grow and change in some areas, either coluntarily or involuntarily. I have recognized some of it and have made movement toward that. And sometimes I have made great effort to overcome some of the triggers which recreate memories or ways of thinking and feeling. I have tried to do my part in healing and standing, and walking forward. Many times I'm okay now. I can keep my house clean. But sometimes the cycle pops up again, because of thoughts, conversations, observations. Sometimes I get cluttered with the things I had hoped to be done with, as the cycle reoccurs.
But as I talked with my friend about this recurrence of my reaction to things that might get me down or frustrated, instead of being totally discouraged that I haven't grown up enough I was encouraged. I was able to see that even though I cycle, each time the tie gets weaker and each time my negative feelings aren't as strong. I don't know that some of these experiences and feelings will be totally gone. But maybe they will continue to diminish in strength and the times without them will be longer in between. I can hope for that.

For you Scott

2007-04-19T18:14:00.000-07:00

Scott, this is for you, so you know what I expect later in life. This will be us one day (you know it).

It was a busy morning, approximately 8:30 a.m., when an elderly gentleman in
his 80's, arrived to have stitches removed from his thumb. He stated that he
was in a hurry as he had an appointment at 9:00 am.

I took his vital signs and had him take a seat, knowing it would be over an
hour before someone would to able to see him. I saw him looking at his watch
and decided, since I was not busy with another patient, I would evaluate his
wound.

On exam, it was well healed, so I talked to one of the doctors, got the
needed supplies to remove his sutures and redress his wound.

While taking care of his wound, we began to engage in conversation. I asked
him if he had another doctor's appointment this morning, as he was in such a
hurry. The gentleman told me no, that he needed to go to the nursing home to
eat breakfast with his wife.

I then inquired as to her health. He told me that she had been there for a
while and that she was a victim of Alzheimer's disease. As we talked, I
asked if she would be upset if he was a bit late. He replied that she no
longer knew who he was, that she had not recognized him in five years now.

I was surprised, and asked him, "And you still go every morning, even though
she doesn't know who you are?"
He smiled as he patted my hand and said, "She doesn't know me, but I still
know who she is."

I had to hold back tears as he left, I had goose bumps on my arm, and
thought, "That is the kind of love I want in my life."

True love is neither physical, nor romantic. True love is an acceptance of
all that is, has been, will be and will not be.

Matthew's "Sick" Room

2007-04-15T22:53:00.000-07:00

Matthew frequently talks about doing half pipes. If you grew up in the hippee days that probably meant something much different than what Matthew is talking about. He likes to talk about skateboarding and snowboarding.
We've just finished Matthew's room design. Yet to come is a bean bag chair for the corner of the room, but there are a couple of cool spots in the room. He wanted a skateboarding theme (no surprise) so we have a couple of posters on the wall/ceiling. We wallpapered with imitation brick paper, then got one of our friends to do the awesome graffiti. Didn't he do a great job?

I painted a couple of old skateboards that weren't usable. Those are flames, in case you can't tell. I found some on the internet, drew the outline onto mactac for shelves, razored it out, stuck it to the board after it was painted red, and painted the black over it. Wherever the mactac was, the stayed red. A bit more outlining for the smudges, some dollar store brackets spray painted black to match, and p-r-e-s-t-o.

By the way, "sick" is slang for "cool" (I'm a nerd - I didn't come up with that one by myself).

Easy Caramel Popcorn

2007-04-15T13:04:00.000-07:00

Here is a fabulously easy recipe for caramel corn. You need a paper bag and the microwave.

1/2 cup butter or margarine
1/4 cup corn syrup
1 cup brown sugar
9 to 13 cups popped corn
1/4 tsp. baking soda
1 tsp. vanilla

Combine butter, corn syrup and brown sugar in a 2-quart bowl. Microwave on high until mixture comes to a full boil. Stir. Microwave on high for 3 minutes more.
Stir in baking soda and vanilla. Pour mixture over popped popcorn in brown paper bag. Shake.
Microwave on high for 30 seconds. Shake. Tear open bag and pour onto waxed paper.

Serves 6-8.

2007-04-08T23:57:00.000-07:00

This has been a week of unusual moments. Some sad things are happening, with Amanda being hurt and Logan's mom expected to pass away soon. There have been moments of thinking Amanda would also very possibly be dead, and now there are some words of hope.
These kind of weeks make me feel a variety of things. Sad for sure. On Friday Matthew and I were talking about Amanda, which then led to talking about Len. Matthew said he misses Len and I told him we'll see Len again some day. Matthew asked how, since he is dead, and we talked about heaven. Not knowing for sure what form we will be in heaven, Matthew didn't understand how we will be able to know who Len is, especially since Matthew doesn't remember what he looks like. Tears were coming down my boy's face as we talked. I told him that I like it if he cries a bit about Len, because it says that he remembers him and loves him. I wanted to ask what he remembers, since Matthew was about 5 or 6 when he died, but I didn't really want to know. I was just happy that he cares. As I explained about people living on in the memories of those around them, Matthew thought I was slightly crazy. He doesn't yet understand how a person can live after they die, since they aren't physically here any more. One day he will understand.
At Bible Study we talked about Ecclesiastes. All is vanity. There is nothing new under the sun. Eat, drink and be merry, for tomorrow you die. We talked about where God is in the face of tragedy. We talked about faith, doubt and fears. We were reminded that we look to Christ and the New Covenant for our Hope. It wasn't heresy; it was searching and being vulnerable.
Church was so great Saturday night. A couple people participated by reading selections on joy (and somewhat about it's evasiveness sometimes). I was very moved when Sam stood up and read the piece Scott provided her. I knew she would be reading, but didn't know the content. As she began, the words flamed in my heart. I looked at Scott and said "I wrote this". He didn't remember; he had merely come across the file on the laptop. As I listened I remembered where I was and when I wrote it. I knew why. As Sam read it I thought "Wow, this sounds so long". I didn't know if it would be meaningful to anyone else, but it was to me. When Sam was done I stood up and talked about the piece. It was written at a time in my life when I realized I had to decide whether I was going to continue in despair or choose joy. To me, joy was a being, not just an emotion. She was someone I had to commit to instead of just bring in and out of my life. It wasn't an easy choice, because to live in self-pity or despair seemed easier. But I knew that path was destructive and a slow death of the soul. It hasn't always been easy to choose, but it has gotten easier.
Saturday night we also had communion. It's been 2 years since I've been at a service with communion, and I've missed it. It was such a contemplative time for the people there. One person had never seen communion, and it was very meaningful for him. He spent many hours that night thinking about the words spoken and the prayers uttered, and praying. God is working in him and it's an exciting thing to watch.
Times like this I feel the vibrancy of Christ and thankfulness for Him. I don't have all the answers to life's tough times, but I see His work in small wonders along the way. And sometimes the wonders are pretty big.

The Story of My Life

2007-04-06T10:38:00.000-07:00

Top Picks

2007-04-02T20:41:00.000-07:00

Matthew found this addicting game on...you guessed it...Addicting Games. Try it and see if you can stop in less than 5 minutes. Then tell me what level you got to!

Since I'm recommending things, Tysey has loaned us her Portable Sounds CD by Toby Mac. matthew and I waited for Ben outside the high school the other day, had the tunes turned up and the sunroof open. It was music I wasn't embarrassed to play around the teens who walked by. I really like the CD.

Opinions now over. Well for today anyway.

Unpaid Advertisement

2007-04-01T23:32:00.000-07:00

Attention all readers. My mom is moving to Mission at the end of May and is looking for a place to rent. A basement suite is good, if it is in a quiet house. An apartment is also good, especially if it's 50+. Close proximity to my place would be nice, to make it easier for us to get together and for short driving distance to shopping. If you know of anything, email me or put a comment on the blog (all comments come to my email anyways).
Thanks!

At War

2007-03-26T20:05:00.000-07:00

Our Bible study group has been covering Old Testamant stories, specifically the heroes of the Bible. We studied part of the Macabees, which is a story that reinforces a definite trend in the history of the Israelites.
Numerous times we read about the Israelites being taken captive by another nation who takes over their land. I covered that briefly in the story of the people in Moses time, and that they had been captive for a few hundred years. Here in Macabees we find the same thing. And another Pattern" was repeated as was done before - the invading culture destroyed the Temple.
Why? Well, when plotting to domination of a nation, it would be logical to attack it where its identity is. Look at 9/11. A capitalist structure (the World Trade Centre) and a governing centre (the Whitehouse) and a security centre (the Pentagon) were targets. Smart moves for people wanting to make a point about the ability to dominate a nation. Some could argue that point with me, but since politics and war aren't my thing that's as far as I'll go I stand there in my ignorance.
Go back to the Jewish nation. Their temple was sacred to them. It was their identity, as a people set apart from every other nation. They knew what God they served. They had strong laws about how to do it. I think pride was involved in this knowledge. Sometimes the temple was a place of commerce - or at least the areas around it were. It gave them strength and united them. To destroy it would be to demolish the confidence of the people and taunt the power of what and Who they believed in. Smart war move.
Every time the temple was destroyed in an invasion, it was eventually rebuilt. That was the first thing arranged, as soon as it could be done. Sometimes it took years, but it was a priority.
My mind turns to the Christian, the one who believes in God. God has written his word in our hearts, and he no longer resides in a temple made of human hands. He resides in the lives of His believers. You might be able to recall some verses that mention things like this. In a way the new "temple" is way more difficult to be destroyed. It's easier to protect, because it isn't physical. For the Christian, the war isn't about land or dwellings. It's about the soul within. So, is it really more difficult to destroy it? I think that depends on how willing we are to protect it. Not to get too freaky on the puritan move (because I'm not), the destruction of where God resides is still a goal of some. We can protect it easily. But we can also give in easily if we want to. It all resides in the spirit and that which affects it. Staying away from pride, bitterness, and whatever else your thing is. I won't give you a list because what might be dangerous for you won't be for someone else. You know what your things are.
Sometimes we get torn apart a bit. But the responsibility for rebuilding is only partly ours, with a lot of help from God.

Moving Help

2007-03-23T23:26:00.000-07:00

This week I helped a family move. The guy's lazyboy was 40 years old and in way worse shape than Scott's green one. Now if only that family would have an "accident" with their chair, that would render it mostly useless so that it would have to be put in the basement.
Oh sorry, I lost myself in a secret plan there.

Water Fight

2007-03-19T18:07:00.000-07:00

Matthew got some tiny water pistols, so we had a water fight - in the house. We shrieked and raced around and got the furniture slightly wet. My mascara ran down my cheeks, as I kept running to the bathroom to wipe the black off each time, reloading while I did. It was such fun.
And then the dog, who was trying to join in the fun, bit my butt.

Young Marriage

2007-03-18T11:25:00.000-07:00

A six-year-old boy told his father he wanted to marry the little girl across the street.
The father, being modern and well-schooled in handling children, hid his smile behind his hand.

"That's a serious step," he said. "Have you thought it out completely?"

"Yes," his young son answered. "We can spend one week in my room and the next in hers.
It's right across the street, so I can run home if I get scared of the dark."

"How about transportation?" the father asked.

"I have my wagon, and we both have our tricycles," the little boy answered.
The boy had an answer to every question the father raised.

Finally, in exasperation, his dad asked,
"What about babies? When you're married, you're liable to have babies, you know."

"We've thought about that, too," the little boy replied.
"We're not going to have babies. Every time she lays an egg, I'm going to step on it!"

Marble Brownies

2007-03-13T21:59:00.000-07:00

I have a theory about desserts. You can't really call it dessert unless it contains chocolate. I bend that rule in order to cater to other tastes, but this recipe contains the necessary ingredient in two forms. Warning: don't attempt a diet while making this dish.

The first ingredient is brownies, either in a 1 pkg. (20.5 oz) brownie mix - not the kind with the syrup pouch - or the following recipe (which I think is fabulous). Use a 9x13 inch pan. You could half the brownie recipe for a 9 inch square pan.

Brownies

1 cup melted margarine/butter
2 cups sugar
2 tsp vanilla
4 eggs
1 cup flour
2/3 cup cocoa
1/2 tsp baking powder
1/2 tsp salt

Blend margarine/butter, sugar and vanilla in a large bowl. Add eggs; using a wooden spoon, beat well. Combine flour, cocoa, baking powder and salt; gradually blend into egg mixture. Stir in nuts.
Spread in greased pan. Next apply the topping as per recipe below.

Topping

1 pkg (8 oz) cream cheese, softened
1/3 cup sugar
1 egg
1/2 tsp vanilla
1/2 cup semi-sweet chocolate chunks (or chocolate chips)

Beat cream cheese with electric mixer on mediom speed until smooth. Add sugar, mixing until well blended. Add egg and vanilla; mix just until blended.
Pour cream cheese mixture over brownie batter; cut through batter with knife several times for marble effect. Sprinkle with chocolate chunks.
Bake 35-40 minutes or until cream cheese mixture is slightly browned. Cool; cut into squares.
Note: the original brownie batter recipe says 25 minutes, so monitor the cooking after 25 minutes to a maximum of 40 minutes.

Bonding with the guys

2007-03-11T23:30:00.000-07:00

Our family has had many wonderful and fun times over the last few months. We've hung out at home, church, the movies, restaurants. But that's usually with Scott. I haven't had a chance to do anything alone with both boys, other than being at home with them when Scott is out. Today we had our first family time where we had a common emphasis. God provided that opportunity. I'll show a web picture of the opportunity. No, this is not my basement. Mine is filled with music gear.

This morning the basement was flooded a couple inches deep, and Scott bailed out 13 garbage cans full of water. Enough to do some damage control. He put the gear up on tables...I've never seen water run out of the seams of an amp before.

When Scott was at work tonight I was doing laundry, and noticed the water at least a couple inches deep in the hallway. When opening the band room, I saw it was flooded again as suspected. But the water was several inches deep by now. So, I called the boys to help bail again. It was a bonding moment. I don't know what Ben thought, but Nathan and I enjoyed the process - it was kind of fun. I figure the moment needed to be savoured for the team effort and the "youthful" feeling of having to rescue something that wasn't working out quite right. It reminded me of the van pushing scenes in Little Miss Sunshine. A pain, but a good pain.
Matthew didn't like the experience so much. He was in bed, but knew what was happening. He said "I know the door and walls are going to come crashing in from the water. I just know it." He has my taste for drama. I would have thought the same thing at his age.

Unfaithful?

2007-03-06T21:24:00.000-08:00

At last week's study we talked about Moses and the Israelites. Man those people were sure reluctant and had excuses about why they couldn't do things. Moses said on more than one occasion that he wasn't eloquent enough to address the Israelites or Pharaoh. Funny, for a man who was educated in the ways of the Royal Family and would probably have practised addressing audiences as part of his grooming. Then there are the people themselves. Each miracle or plague that came, they were impressed so briefly then critical. They wanted out, but yet didn't want what it meant.

Scott told me about a man who was at Miracle Valley, the recovery place at which he works. He was removed from his family when he was 4, and placed in a residential school. His family didn't visit him for the first year, and came occasionally after that. He was denied practising his First Nations culture and had to comply with the system.
When he was 12 he went to juvenile detention for a minor crime. If he was your kid he probably wouldn't have gone there, but because the residential school didn't want a fire-starter, he became a ward of the state and spent 3 years in juvie. At 17 he went to prison for stealing a car with some buddies, to take a joy ride into town. At 25 he was briefly released, then was returned for theft. He is still in prison, except for this past year in recovery where he is monitored and not allowed on out-trips. He is 54 years old.
You might think that he is the perfect example of a "bad egg" who has received just punishment for your behaviour. If you've heard this kind of story before you might be the person who thinks it wasn't his responsibility but rather he is a product of his environment. I can't say which is the right opinion, if we even should have one.
This man has been institutionalized for his whole life. For most of his adult like he hasn't experienced common freedoms of walking down the street, going to the pool, making his own decisions about where to eat or sleep, choosing how to spend his money. In fact, money is somewhat foreign to him, though he has some. He admits that if he is released he honestly won't know how to survive in the outside world. It reminds me of the old guy from Shawshank Redemption who hung himself because he couldn't handle what we call "real life".

This reminds me of the Israelite people during the time of Moses. Captives to the Egyptians for 450 years, the ideal of freedom ran strong as it would in a downtrodden nation. Perhaps stories of the past glory and of future hope were told around their fires in their houses. Their reality was one of a ghetto life. Imprisoned in their communities, unable to leave the nation, slaves who were beaten, killed, forced to work for a people who flaunted their affluence and their pagan religion. It would have stuck in their craw. Of course they wanted out.
But at what cost? They knew of nothing else, and to change their lives so drastically would mean an abrupt change. Welcome in one way, but frightening in most ways. How would they do it? Why wouldn't God make it so miraculously easy for them to leave? Or better yet, to take over the territory?
The Israelites were institutionalized, like Scott's client. I haven't had the same experiences as them, so I can't say for sure how I would have reacted in their position. Initially I thought they were whinier than I would have been, until I thought about their history. Sometimes I think they were unfaithful, but then I know I'm a wimp and I might respond the same way if I were in their situation. Fear and uncertainty. Take me away, but make it easy. And tell me where I'm going and how we'll get there. But then, that's not always a luxury we have. Sometimes a next step has to be taken before anything else can be seen.

How to Clean Laminate Flooring

2007-03-04T20:43:00.000-08:00

As wonderful as laminate is for cleanliness and allergy prevention, it can sometimes be difficult to get clean without streaking. I have a couple tips.
Fill a small spray bottle with 1 part vinegar to 3-4 parts water. Warm water is nice.
Put on some fun music, toss a couple of bath towels on the floor, and tell your child that you're having a "dance-off" and the best dancer wins. The only rule is that you each need to stay on the towels while you move your feet around. Spray the area that you will be dancing in, and work your way around the room this way.
It worked for Matthew and me for about 5-10 minutes. Then he said "You're just trying to get me to help you clean the floor." I didn't deny it, and he continued for a little while longer. In order to encourage more participation I let him do the spraying, but this can be a dangerous approach. Especially with a comedic boy. Let's just say the water bottle wasn't always pointed at the ground or inanimate objects.

Parenting and Divorce

2007-02-28T08:45:00.000-08:00

I realize the last post ended on a different turn than I was originally thinking. As I said, sometimes the thoughts ruminate but aren't ready to come out. Plus, it can be difficult to write about personal things that are about emotional journeys.
When I first read the Bill Cosby quote in amongst his quips, it really hit me. Then I also thought about how we screw our kids up.
It has been said that divorce is most difficult on the children. That probably is mostly true, and in part it is because they are put in the middle of two warring factions, who siphon their messages to the other parent through the children. They often tell their side of the story as to the cause of the divorce, and use the children as "spies" to gain information about what's happening in the other home, beyond what they need to know about the care and safety of the child. Many times they offhandedly make snide comments about the other parent's love interest, if there is one. The children feel they need to protect each parent's feelings by not speaking too nicely about the other one in their presence. Not always, but I suspect more often than not.
The uncertainty of the family unit would be very difficult for a child, especially a young one. My parents separated when I was 16, and I didn't fall into this category. In fact, my aloof father stepped up to the plate more after that, and made sure to begin to tell me he loved me. My mom became a more confident woman, really shining her true self. Of course there was a lot of grieving to be done, probably on both parents' sides, and that process may have taken years.
This is an area I know about. Grieving. When I was first separated, a friend of mine said it was going to be a very hard road. Not being divorced as she had been, I didn't fully understand. I do now. The physical and immediate process is devastating, no matter which partner you are. It is different for each person, and each person processes differently depending on their temperament as well as who was finally the "initiator". I use the word finally, because sometimes divorce has been a topic in a home, even of mutual consent at times, but the reality of it is much different than the theory.
I am a thinker, who takes time to work through life's emotional processes. I'm also a second-guesser, and someone who feels responsibility for any part of any action that I might be involved in. And for me, responsibility weighs on me for years, along with the memories of things I could have or should have done differently. This kind of temperament makes divorce difficult.
My divorce date was not a date of celebration. When the documents came in the mail I didn't shout, I breathed a shallow, short breath as I held the papers, tears in my eyes. I have no criticism for anyone with a more exuberant experience, but this is my story. When I saw a friend later that day I was quietly congratulated. I responded that it wasn't a thing to be congratulated on, but a thing to be grieved. The goal and dream I had since a teen, of being with one person until death was totally gone. Yes, it was a release of one sort, but still it bore sorrows. It was also a death of pride, because I enjoyed the shocked responses when I told people I had been married 22 years. Now that claim can't be made, and I have joined the divorce statistics. That's tough on the ego. But maybe it's good to work through that too. Pride isn't necessarily a good thing. I can learn and grow through this.
If you're not divorced, you know what it's like to break up with a friend. Even if you were the one to initialize the final stages of break up which usually contains dissention, disagreement, refusing to be with them any more, there is a void. First there is anger and the sense of betrayal, but there are still wonderful experiences you have shared. In some moments you might wish things were different, but not be able to change them. You might feel it's best for you not to be close any more, but that doesn't mean you don't work through that loss. It's a tricky balance, when you have loved someone so greatly, to escape a relationship breakdown without bitterness and anger.
It's a feat that I dare say, very few humans have been able to achieve. That emotion kills part of the soul, in a way we can't even see at the time. I personally have had a difficult time housing it with no direction for it to go except to my dreams. I can't let it go to my child or other people, besides an intimate circle. The poison of this emotion can be too strong for we humans, and I don't want others polluted with it. I have realized that it's too big for me and I need to continually give it to Someone who is stronger than I am.

Fatherhood

2007-02-24T21:51:00.000-08:00

I recently finished reading Fatherhood, by Bill Cosby. It's an easy read; anecdotal, funny, yet also thought provoking. In one of the sections he talks about why people have children. The chapter title is "Sweet Insanity". Among the jokes, he has this to say:
Some people call a baby a 'symbol of our love', feeling that just the two of them would not be symbol enough. The sad truth is, there are people who marry, grow away from each other, get divorced, and then take this symbol of their love and tell it to hate the other mate.
Ouch. Now if you're separated or divorced and reading this, you might understand what it means. Usually we see that truth in others more than in ourselves, but it is often truth none-the-less. And to be honest, you don't have to be in a break up to wield the sword of playing children against the other parent.
At times I think that we grown ups are children in bigger bodies. Immature in our weak moments, when we're hurt or we want someone to like us who doesn't. I can be competitive, and hold it back to not let that nature creep into relationships. A relationship is best when each person serves the other, not themselves.
I have had some other thoughts which aren't fusing together, so I'll end there. The rest will come in the right time.

Dogs and Kids

2007-02-18T19:10:00.000-08:00

Our dog Angus is afraid of the vacuum. He dashes around trying when we use it, making sure he stays far away.
The same dog, who never used to shed, now is making up for the previous 5 months of not losing hair. Every day we sweep up handfuls of the black stuff. So, Scott had a brilliant idea. Skip the middle part of shedding and vacuum it off instead. You can imagine how well that went over with Angus. Ben held him while Scott vacuumed, and out of mercy they gave up easily and let him go to run away, looking behind him the whole time.
It reminds me of Matthew. When he was a toddler he too was afraid of the vacuum. No, I didn't put it on his hair and turn it on, but I did try getting him to touch it when it was turned off, while I used high pitched reassuring tones to let him know it was okay. This also reminds me of another Matthew moment.
For his first birthday, he got a lot of cute toys. He was mostly interested in the boxes, but I tried to help him learn to play with what he got. One such item was a Thomas the Tank Engine train with cabooses. As it was pulled, it chugged and whistled. Matthew was freaked out.
I liked this toy, and thought I could help Matthew to conquer his fear like I did the vacuum cleaner. I held Matthew's hand while I pulled the toy. He looked apprehensive and kept darting glances at it. When he seemed calmer I put the string in his hand but he wouldn't pull it. By this time I had a goal. After a few days I was determined to help my son conquer his fear. But how could he, if he never used the toy? So, I tied the string to a button on his pyjamas one night. Then he would see that it isn't scary, and we could make a game of chasing each other around the house with the train in tow.
I took him into the kitchen and switched it on, to the sound of a "choo-choo"! Matthew's eyes went big, and he started moving, to escape the scary thing. As he moved though, it came with him, chasing him. He ended up at a cupboard, hanging onto the knob, trying to climb straight up. Cornered by Thomas. What a sad sight.
I quickly unleashed the grip of terror, laughing the whole time. I don't think he bears any emotional scars of it...I hope he doesn't. Maybe I'll take him on Via Rail sometime just to see.

Tasty Italian Sausage Soup

2007-02-11T22:34:00.000-08:00

I made a fabulous soup the other day. Whenever I say this kind of thing understand that what I mean is the recipe is so tasty. This soup keeps for two days. It is great for supper, and especially after a chilly day working outside or snowboarding. It serves 8 small portions, or 5 liberal portions. It looks lengthy, but don't be disheartened. It's easy. If you don't have all these spices and don't know if you'll use them again, check out the bulk foods section for small amounts. Allow about an hour total cook time.

1 lb Italian sausage (we bought the kind with basil in it)
1 tsp vegetable oil
1 chopped onion
4 cloves minced garlic
1 large chopped carrot
1 stalk chopped celery
2 thinly sliced Jalapeno peppers, or 1/4 tsp cayenne/hot pepper flakes
1 tsp cumin
1/2 tsp each ground coriander and paprika
1/4 tsp each chili powder and pepper
1 can (19 ox/540 ml) chick-peas
3 cups chicken stock
1/4 cup chopped fresh parsley
1 avocado
2 limes

Remove casings from sausages; cut into slices or break into chunks. In large pot, heat oil over medium heat; cook sausage for 5 minutes. You don't need to stir. Add onion, garlic, carrot and celery; cook, stirring often, for about 10 minutes or until vegetables are softened and sausage is cooked through. Skim off any excess fat.
Stir in jalapeno peppers, cumin, ground coriander, paprika, chili powder and pepper; cook, stirring, for 1 minute. Pour in tomatoes, breaking up into small pieces with back of spoon; bing to boil. Reduce heat and simmer, covered for 10 minutes.
Meanwhile, drain and rinse chickpeas; stir into pot along with stock and 2 Tbsp of the fresh parsley. Cover and simmer for 20 minutes.
Meanwhile, half avocado and remove pit. Cut through flesh to skin lengthwise and crosswise to dice; with spoon, scoop out cubes into bowl. Squeeze juice from 1 of the limes; toss juice with avocado. Slice remaining lime into 8 wedges. Garnish each serving with avocado and lime wedge. Sprinkle with remaining parsley.

The Cowboy

2007-02-09T08:50:00.000-08:00

An Alberta cowboy was overseeing his herd in a remote mountainous pasture when suddenly a brand-new BMW advanced out of a dust cloud towards him. The driver, a young man in a Brioni suit, Gucci shoes, Ray Ban sunglasses and YSL tie, leans out the window and asks the cowboy, "If I tell you exactly how many cows and calves you have in your herd, will you give me a calf?"

The cowboy looks at the man, obviously a yuppie, then looks at his peacefully grazing herd and calmly answers, "Sure, Why not?"
The yuppie parks his car, whips out his Dell notebook computer, connects it to his Cingular RAZR V3 cell phone, and surfs to a NASA page on the Internet, where he calls up a GPS satellite navigation system to get an Exact fix on his location which he then feeds to another NASA satellite that scans the area in an ultra-high-resolution photo. The young man then opens the digital photo in Adobe Photoshop and exports it to an image processing facility in Hamburg , Germany .

Within seconds, he receives an email on his Palm Pilot that the image has been processed and the data stored. He then accesses a MS-SQL database through an ODBC connected Excel Spreadsheet with email on his Blackberry and, after a few minutes, receives a response.

Finally, he prints out a full-color, 150-page report on his hi-tech, Miniaturized HP LaserJet printer and finally turns to the cowboy and Says, "You have exactly 1,586 cows and calves."

"That's right. Well, I guess you can take one of my calves," says the Cowboy. He watches the young man select one of the animals and looks on amused as the young man stuffs it into the trunk of his car. Then the cowboy says to the young man, "Hey, if I can tell you exactly what your business is, will you give me back my calf?"

The young man thinks about it for a second and then says, "Okay, why not?" "You're a member of parliament for the Canadian Government", says the cowboy. "Wow! That's correct," says the yuppie, "but how did you guess that?" "No guessing required." answered the cowboy.
"You showed up here even though nobody called you; you want to get paid for an answer I already knew, to a question I never asked. You tried to show me how much smarter than me you are; and you don't know a thing about cows...this is a herd of sheep. Now give me back my dog."

Haight & Ashbury

2007-02-05T22:15:00.000-08:00

"The Summer of Love was the peak of the Haight Ashbury experience," wrote founding editor Allen Cohen in his essay on the Summer of Love. "Over 100,000 youth came to the Haight. Hoards of reporters, movie makers, FBI agents, undercover police, drug addicts, provocateurs, Mafioso and about 100,000 more tourists to watch them all followed in their wake."

I've been to Haight Street, when I lived in LA. You might be too young to remember, but there was quite a hippie movement in Haight in the mid 1960's. I saw a documentary on it several years ago, probably a biased one. But I think some of the things that were highlighted were probably also accurate.
The Grateful Dead, Janis Joplin, Free Love, "weekend marriages", psychedelic drug trips, tie dye, syphilis, dropping out of society, protesting the Vietnam War gone bad (whose beginning was never good), bumming around in the park.
What did the hippies stand for, besides anarchy and sefishness? Peace with each other. Nature - especially the kind you could smoke, ingest, or inhale. Communal living, including sharing women. Children by any male in the commune. We have a slanted picture of these movements. They spoke out too much and didn't bathe enough. They talked of degradation of the earth and it's resources and the need to stop big business from taking over the world and the land. Worthless, drugged illusions. Or........
Turns out some of the things the drop outs were complaining about are actually true. Recently a report on global warming was published, which states mankind is primarily responsible for the changes in the temperature of the earth, ice caps, ozone gas. We didn't think this made sense when big business was beginning to surge in the 1960's. But the hippies talked about it. Society just figured they were anti-success losers. Who could blame them, with the image of long hair and disease and welfare?

From 1964 to 1968, there swelled a gigantic wave of cultural and political change that swept first San Francisco, then the whole United States, and then the world. What was fermenting in the Haight-Ashbury section of San Francisco was a powerful brew that would ultimately stop a war.

Saturday night Scott and I went to a Barenaked Ladies concert. During the pre-concert video footage, facts about global warming and alternate power sources kept flashing on the screen. They made statements about their part in reducing harmful emissions and being energy smart with their tour. I had no idea it was so cool to be so --- hippie. U2 speaks for the Red Campaign. I don't know what other bands are doing, but they're getting onto it. Great PR and a better planet must be the result, right?
Where are the Haight-Ashbury hippies today? They're in their 60's now, and probably telling their grandchildren a few stories about how they warned people things would go this way. Maybe they didn't have all the facts, but they sensed it. I also wonder if those same people became big-business in their 40's and helped contribute to the problem the earth has. Maybe they didn't heed their own advice during the money-making years.

Last week at church we had a fashion show highlighting horrible labour practises around the world. A friend of mine said that sweatshops exist here too, relative to our employment standards. That is probably true. I can't do something about everything, but I can do a few small things. I can't reverse the greenhouse effect, especially by myself. And I'm not a soapbox person. I just agree with a couple of my friends who say we can't tackle the world, but we can make choices with parts of our actions. I won't live in the bush, growing my own garden, using an alternative heat source that reduces emissions, weaving my own hemp clothes. But I can wash with hot water a little less, make fewer trips in the car, look at options for some "sweatshopless" clothes. Maybe that makes me a hippie.
Will you be a hippie too?

Saying Grace

2007-01-31T14:27:00.000-08:00

A happy story I read:

Saying Grace in a Restaurant Last week, I took my children to a restaurant.
My six-year-old son asked if he could say grace. As we bowed our heads he said, "God is good, God is great.
Thank you For the food, and I would even thank you more if Mom gets us ice cream for dessert.
And Liberty and justice for all! Amen!"

Along with the laughter from the other customers nearby, I heard a woman remark,
"That's what's wrong with this country. Kids today don't even know how to pray.
Asking God for ice cream! Why, I never!"

Hearing this, my son burst into tears and asked me,
"Did I do it wrong?Is God mad at me?" As I held him and assured him that he had done
a terrific job, and God was certainly not mad at him, an elderly gentleman approached the table.
He winked at my son and said, "I happen to know that God thought that was a great prayer."

"Really?" my son asked. "Cross my heart," the man replied. Then, in a theatrical whisper, he added
(indicating the woman whose remark had started this whole thing), "Too bad she never asks God for ice cream.
A little ice cream is good for the soul sometimes."

Naturally, I bought my kids ice cream at the end of the meal. My son stared at his for a moment,
and then did something I will remember the rest of my life. He picked up his sundae and, without a word,
walked over and placed it in front of the woman. With a big smile he told her,
"Here, this is for you. Ice cream is good for the soul sometimes; and my soul is good already."

Conflict Resolution?

2007-01-30T18:21:00.000-08:00

I'm in the midst of mediating between a couple of parties who are clients, and so far the outcome is uncertain. It's causing me some difficulties, because I want the situation resolved well for all parties; but it is becoming evident that it might not be possible. As the person in the middle there are only so many cards I can play from the other side, to keep privacy, integrity, and reduce hostility. This isn't actually my job, but I've had some experience at it in the past and really, I'm the only person even on the payroll besides the consultant. Today while driving home and thinking about each side. I could see the similarities in relationship breakdowns of many kinds.
Each party is adamant that their side is the correct one. Sometimes absolutely correct, or at least the most correct. I remember a friend of mine saying "In every relationship breakdown there are 3 stories. His story, her story, and the right story. Perhaps it can also be said that there are 3 truths. Not that any party is trying to deceive, and perhaps one party is mostly in the right and has just cause for the dispute. But everything we observe or think or react to is through a filter. We read tones, movements, things said, and things not said. I guess the key is how to keep the relationship as clear as possible by ensuring we are using the same filter. It isn't possible, but it sure would be helpful.
There are some people in my life that I haven't always agreed with, nor have they agreed with me. Sometimes it has resulted in a permanent parting, and other times in parting for a little while. It all hurts, and they would say the same thing. Sometimes space is good for healing, as long as there is humility and love from each side.

Lapse in Time

2007-01-27T10:15:00.000-08:00

I used to write more things of "significance" than I have the past several months. Oh sure, some posts are deep and philosophical, but many are about regular things of life. I suppose that isn't too bad, but also there are lapses in posting. It isn't for lack of thoughts but more for how busy work, church, and family keep me. It's a good busy, filled with much happiness, as I've mentioned before.
There is another reason why I don't blog my thoughts. I'm concerned that if I write about some of the things I've been learning about life, divorce, viewpoints on church/God, that the posts will be interpreted with a bias. That is unavoidable, but it's the kind of bias that makes me hesitate.
There are people who read my blog as well as my ex-husband's and that of his new wife. On a few occasions I have talked to people about what I was going to write and cautioned not to because it is a topic on the other blogs, and my opinion is not the same as the content there. Normally I don't mind having a different opinion than another person, but I don't want to start a circus or speculation about motivations. I personally read almost exclusively the blogs listed on my sidebar, so if my writings seem timed as an aim against or for any other blog, it isn't so. It would just be coincidence. I want to say this for those who read many more blogs than I do, and correlate them.
Well, I've put it out there now. I want to be able to write my thoughts (within reason) and what I'm learning. It helps me to form ideas better when I do. I also want to be tactful and not hurt others by my opinions. And by the way, nothing will really be controversial. I save that for other people.

Teriyaki Sauce Recipe

2007-01-20T00:41:00.000-08:00

I've blogged before about watching cooking shows. I'm going to join some of the people who blog recipes, though how often I'm not sure. Maybe once a week. If you have any good ones, let me know. The first one is thick teriyaki sauce.
We cook wings once a week, and they have to be teriyaki. We like them cooked to a fall apart stage, which not everyone does. First I put paprika and salt on them, broil on each side for a while (until the skin shrinks a bit), then turn the oven down to 350 and cook for at least another hour. Sounds crazy, but the sauce is less slimy and the meat isn't tough. We usually use bottled sauce at $4.50/bottle (we use almost the whole thing by the time the meat is done). I found this recipe for much cheaper, and it rivals the packaged stuff. 5 minutes and you can be done the sauce. Here it is:

1/4 cup soy sauce
1 cup water
1/2 teaspoon ground ginger
1/4 teaspoon garlic powder
5 tablespoons packed brown sugar
1-2 tablespoon honey
2 tablespoons cornstarch
1/4 cup cold water

Mix all but cornstarch and 1/4c water in a sauce pan and begin heating. Mix cornstarch and cold water in a cup and dissolve. Add to sauce in pan. Heat until sauce thickens to desired thickness. Add water to thin if you over-thicken it.

In search of Normal

2007-01-15T18:33:00.000-08:00

Beaver Cleaver is dead. A friend of mine once said talked about the (16 year) gap between he and his brother, in terms of world/family outlook. He said he was hard on himself because he didn't have a Beaver Cleaver life. For a generation that seemed to be the goal, although behind the scenes the housewives gambled with their girlfriends and hid gin in the water bottle for the iron. Divorce wasn't as prevalent as now, but affairs and illegitimately conceived babies still happened. Physical violence in the home was almost a man's right rather than his shame. Hiding all sort of troubles were the main concern, to be seen as an upstanding citizen. Keep up with the Jones' reputation.
Now, in the generation of Family Guy, the Osborne family, Sex in the City, and a plethora of "reality" TV shows (which honestly are so sensational they aren't at all real), some personal expectations have changed. Now keeping up with the Jones' means money or possessions. Okay, maybe money owed to the bank for possessions.
Times always change. Dylan wrote about that. I can still remember my high school principal singing that song at my sister's graduation.
A number of years ago, disillusioned by office troubles and the inter-relational disputes I was refereeing, I began to feel that everyone around me was whacked, even if only slightly. I had difficulty seeing normalcy in anyone, and in my frustration began to believe that I was the only normal one. I was the only sane person.
This mirage wasn't long lived, and in fact now it seems the opposite. Not that any of you are normal or sane. In fact, the ones that appear to be have things lurking under the surface. I've come to believe that this is what defines "normal". We're scarred and tainted and bruised and...weird. Some of us more than others, but all of us in some way.
At Bible Study we're reviewing Old Testament legends and what they teach us about faithfulness - and messiness. It's everywhere. Adam and Eve messed up when they ate what they were warned not to and tried to cover the truth from the greatest mind reader of all time. Don't judge them harshly; how many of us would have done the same thing in the same situation. Then there is Jacob. He never should have received the blessing, because God knew what he did. Yet he was blessed. Everywhere in the Bible human failure is prevalent. Abraham tried to pass Sarah off as his sister and "give her" to a ruler on two occasions. Sarah didn't believe God's promise (it was so irrational) and convinced Abraham to make it come true by sleeping with another woman. That didn't end very well. David wrote wonderful songs of worship, but had at least 2 blunders of his own. Let's see...adultery and murder. Not exactly stealing a candy from the grocery store.
I guess with that definition of Normal, we all qualify.

If but for a split second

2007-01-11T19:26:00.000-08:00

I've mentioned briefly before that my primary job is administration for a non-profit which matches the services of self employed contractors with businesses who require such services. Reading the stories of the contractors sometimes makes me thankful for what I have. Most of our contractors have chronic health issues. The illnesses range from diabetes which had been out of control but now is manageable to cerebral palsy or being quadriplegic. Some people have to modify their environment and work hours in order to accommodate their health needs, and others are in a positive health cycle, needing no modification. A couple contractors have no health issue at all, but that's a fairly new experience.
My job is multi-faceted. I design forms, email/phone contractors and business clients, filter through applications, perform reference checks, interview contractors, assist our marketer/program consultant, try to keep the website information current and pass the information to the programmer...well, you get the idea. Lots of different things in one part-time job. It keeps me busy.
Over the last few months I have read about and spoken to people of all walks and situations. Most of them have had scary "close calls" with their health, and most of them are on the bottom end of the income scale because of it. Some people used to be successful professionals to whom big players on major corporations owe their careers. But trauma has rendered some of these people to be a shadow of their former selves.
I've met people who had success as is defined by title and income and reputation. One moment in time it changed because of a stroke, heart attack or accident. Life then became about existing and pain management. About how to get to the doctor for the next visit or how long they would have to stay confined in the hospital, for 5th time that month. Depression and anxiety often accompany the illnesses. The most confident people turned fearful of driving, of meeting people, of having to meet any performance standards. They work through some of the anxiety to become ready to work again. They long to work and to be "normal" again. They don't want to stay at home waiting and thinking and fearing. Most of them do a great job. Some others decide it's too early for them.
Through this I am reminded that one second in time and I could be the same way. I could have a brain injury or heart attack or tumor or aneurism. So could you. Now that's not to infect you with fear or panic or have you jump to the worst case scenario. That's to make you thankful. For I have also found out via some people that anyone can be thankful for "small mercies". Things could be way worse than they are. It's tough sometimes, but possible most of the time. Another thing I would like you to see is the possibility of a determined person. It's tough to overcome some odds and it might take a while, but in some way it can be done. Maybe not restoration to what was, but an adjustment and building to what is.

Tradition

2007-01-07T23:34:00.000-08:00

Since I'm in a new relationship with a blended family, I don't know yet what our Christmas and birthday traditions are. They are just beginning to form, and this year we didn't have full opportunity to set our own. Scott was busy working Christmas week, and we were busy with extended family. It won't be that way every year. We blended some things, like putting my feminine decorations on the tree alongside the Coke cans and macaroni box that the guys use every year. It was a blend of woman meets bachelors. Christmas morning we were all woken up with the raunchy song Ben blasts on the stereo. We had turkey and pumpkin pie.
It was busy birthday season, with mine starting the run on the 13th. Then my mom's was December 22nd, and Matthew's December 30th. In there was Scott's dad's (from afar) of December 15th.
Due to the timing of my birthday and that I like a fresh Christmas tree, Scott arranged for us to get our tree that day. Some people don't like mixing occasions, but to me it was more special. I like Christmas and the beauty of it. That's why I like Miracle on 34th Street (the remake). The colours and sounds are so beautiful, and the sentiment so delicate. It's a break from reality in to the world where good things can happen. So, to be surprised on my day by going out to get a tree was great. And beforehand I was treated to lunch with mom, Scott, Lori, and Matthew. What could be better? Maybe the chocolate cake at the end of a nice dinner. Yes, I had it all.
Here's a picture from my birthday tradition. It's my favorite picture of the holidays.

A Busy Family Season

2007-01-01T22:29:00.000-08:00

Wow, the last couple of weeks have flown by. My mom came to visit on December 10th, and the festivities began. My birthday on the 13th, her birthday on the 22nd, more family came on the 23rd, Christmas with them all, then they went home on the 30th (Matthew's birthday party that day) and last night was a New Years Eve party here. I have been surrounded by family and friends, and have loved it all.
Once I get some pictures downloaded from my camera I'll post them. In the meantime, this is from Christmas Day. My family hasn't been together at Christmas for 10 years, and in that time everyone has grown a lot. Ben and Nathan were patient with the home "invasion"...there were 11 people living here for a week, including the 5 of us permanent citizens.
More later! I need to recover tonight before returning to work tomorrow morning.

Coats for Cheap

2006-12-28T09:48:00.000-08:00

If you live in Mission, Urban Planet has winter coats on sale for $10. My brother-in-law has a great idea of buying one (or more) and giving it to the underprivileged or street ministry. I'm going to get one today for that reason...I wish I could get more. Does anyone want to join me in this? I think perhaps Union Gospel Mission or New Heights might be able to accept them.
If you don't live in Mission, I'm sure there are other places with great sales right now, and charities that could take the coats off your hands.

The Christmas Spirit

2006-12-24T12:47:00.000-08:00

Bear with this pasted story - it will be worth the read. Although it is about Santa, it reminds me of what Christianity is about.

I remember my first Christmas adventure with Grandma. I was just a kid. I remember tearing across town on my bike to visit her on the day my big sister dropped the bomb: "There is no Santa Claus," she jeered. "Even dummies know that!" My Grandma was not the gushy kind, never had been. I fled to her that day because I knew she would be straight with me. I knew Grandma always told the truth, and I knew that the truth always went down a whole lot easier when swallowed with one of her "world-famous" cinnamon buns. I knew they were world-famous, because Grandma said so. It had to be true.

Grandma was home, and the buns were still warm. Between bites, I told her everything. She was ready for me. "No Santa Claus?" She snorted...."Ridiculous! Don't believe it. That rumour has been going around for years, and it makes me mad, plain mad!! Now, put on your coat, and let's go." "Go? Go where, Grandma?" I asked. I hadn't even finished my second world-famous cinnamon bun.

"Where" turned out to be Kerby's General Store, the one store in town that had a little bit of just about everything. As we walked through its doors, Grandma handed me ten dollars. That was a bundle in those days. "Take this money," she said, "and buy something for someone who needs it. I'll wait for you in the car. "Then she turned and walked out of Kerby's.

I was only eight years old. I'd often gone shopping with my mother, but never had I shopped for anything all by myself. The store seemed big and crowded, full of people scrambling to finish their Christmas shopping.

For a few moments I just stood there, confused, clutching that ten-dollar bill, wondering what to buy, and who on earth to buy it for. I thought of everybody I knew: my family, my friends, my neighbours, the kids at school, and the people who went to my church. I was just about thought out, when I suddenly thought of Bobby Decker. He was a kid with bad breath and messy hair, and he sat right behind me in Mrs. Pollock's second grade class. Bobby Decker didn't have a coat. I knew that because he never went out to recess during the winter. His mother always wrote a note, telling the teacher that he had a cough, but all we kids knew that Bobby Decker didn't have a cough; he didn't have a good coat.

I fingered the ten-dollar bill with growing excitement. I would buy Bobby Decker a coat! I settled on a red corduroy one that had a hood to it. It looked real warm, and he would like that.

"Is this a Christmas present for someone?" the lady behind the counter asked kindly, as I laid my ten dollars down.

"Yes, ma'am," I replied shyly. "It's for Bobby."

The nice lady smiled at me, as I told her about how Bobby really needed a good winter coat. I didn't get any change, but she put the coat in a bag, smiled again, and wished me a Merry Christmas.

That evening, Grandma helped me wrap the coat in Christmas paper and ribbons and wrote, "To Bobby, From Santa Claus" on it (a little tag fell out of the coat, and Grandma tucked it in her Bible). Grandma said that Santa always insisted on secrecy. Then she drove me over to Bobby Decker's house, explaining as we went that I was now and forever, officially, one of Santa's helpers.

Grandma parked down the street from Bobby's house, and she and I crept noiselessly and hid in the bushes by his front walk. Then Grandma gave me a nudge. "All right, Santa Claus," she whispered, "get going."

I took a deep breath, dashed for his front door, threw the present down on his step, pounded his door and flew back to the safety of the bushes and Grandma. Together we waited breathlessly in the darkness for the front door to open. Finally it did, and there stood Bobby.

Fifty years haven't dimmed the thrill of those moments spent shivering, beside my Grandma, in Bobby Decker's bushes. That night, I realized that those awful rumours about Santa Claus were just what Grandma said they were: ridiculous. Santa was alive and well, and we were on his team.

I still have the Bible, with the coat tag tucked inside: $19.95.

Merry Christmas to you all. So many of you have been Jesus for me. I thank God for renewal of life and for friends and family.

It didn't last

2006-12-19T21:36:00.000-08:00

Matthew was still gung ho to cook when he woke up yesterday. But when Scott picked him up from school and said they had to shop for a couple ingredients, that was the end of chef Matthew. Shopping made it not worth trying.
Maybe another day.

Iron Chef?

2006-12-17T22:12:00.000-08:00

Tonight Ben and Colin cooked supper for us. Delicious teriyaki stir fry with chicken and leftover roast cubes. It was a treat to have them cook.
Scott and I like watching cooking shows lately. We watch Iron Chef, and Take Home Chef. I do feel some guilt that we watch these, when people in other countries are struggling to stay alive. I haven't figured that part out for myself yet. Anyway, what we used to do in private (cooking shows) we have just begun to do in front of the family. Sometimes with the family. Scott has even started his "secret ingredient challenge", where every couple of weeks he brings home an item, and I have to come up with a way to cook it. I don't always have to do the work, as last time it was a joint effort. Eggplant in pasta sauce. I couldn't really taste the eggplant (maybe that was a good thing), so I didn't do great on the challenge. He says he already knows what the next secret ingredient is, and we haven't seen or used it before.
Perhaps inspired by the guys cooking tonight, or by the show we watched, Matthew has decided to cook tomorrow night. He has chosen stuffed peppers, garlic bread, and hamburger. He thinks he will do most of it himself with just a little sous-chef help from Scott and I will be the taster. While he is in bed, I have just printed a simple recipe for them to use. Matthew is confident that he will cook a great meal. I wonder if he will still feel that way tomorrow, or if he will decide it's too much work.
I'm thinking it's Nathan's turn now.....

Fair Warning

2006-12-16T17:34:00.000-08:00

My mom is considering moving to Mission, and has warned me what life near her will be like. What do you think of this proposal?

When I'm an old lady, I'll live with each kid,
And bring so much happiness...just as they did.
I want to pay back all the joy they've provided.
Returning each deed! Oh, they'll be so excited!
(When I'm an old lady and live with my kids)

I'll write on the wall with reds, whites and blues,
And I'll bounce on the furniture...wearing my shoes.
I'll drink from the carton and then leave it out.
I'll stuff all the toilets and oh, how they'll shout!
(When I'm an old lady and live with my kids)

When they're on the phone and just out of reach,
I'll get into things like sugar and bleach.
Oh, they'll snap their fingers and then shake their head,
(When I'm an old lady and live with my kids)

When they cook dinner and call me to eat,
I'll not eat my green beans or salad or meat,
I'll gag on my okra, spill milk on the table,
And when they get angry...I'll run...if I'm able!
(When I'm an old lady and live with my kids)

I'll sit close to the TV, through the channels I'll click,
I'll cross both eyes just to see if they stick.
I'll take off my socks and throw one away,
And play in the mud 'til the end of the day!
(When I'm an old lady and live with my kids)

And later in bed, I'll lay back and sigh,
I'll thank God in prayer and then close my eyes.
My kids will look down with a smile slowly creeping,
And say with a groan, "She's so sweet when she's sleeping!"

Matters of the Heart

2006-12-11T21:46:00.000-08:00

I've been thinking about bitterness and forgiveness over the past several months. It's hard for a person to go through a major change without having to grapple with things that they perhaps don't want to. Late spring last year I had a moment which remains clear in my memory. When thinking about some things I was struggling with, I asked God to remove the intensity of emotion. I didn't like what I was feeling. I told him I would rather not care than have the feelings of insecurity and frustration. Oh,it never worked of course. Maybe that's okay, because it's the things of the heart that make us compassionate toward each other. Biscotti once told me about bumping into others and smoothing the rough edges off each other. That's a bad, loose translation, and I think Erin should tell us what it really was. I didn't necessarily like hearing that, because that means it's okay for others to rub us raw, doesn't it? In my non-whiny mode I realize this can in fact be a good thing. But when the festering is happening all we can feel is the scrapes and pus. Ouch.
This summer our church took a break from meeting in a public place (because we had no place) and met in homes. We barbecued and talked and laughed. One of the things we talked about was bitterness and forgiveness. We talked about the hold that bitterness has on us, because we hang on to the things we shouldn't by pouting, claiming we're hard done by, sometimes in an effort to control people or situations. In the meantime, it's the event that controls us because we won't let it go. And we can't let go sometimes until we become sick beyond sick.
I have steadily realized that releasing this is something I need to do on a personal level and perhaps sometimes we need to do on a corporate level. Not a fake thing where we make people do it or appeal to their wacky emotions, but a real thing that lifts the weight of what we are carrying. This is my prayer for myself.
I don't totally know how to do this, and with some memories I'm not willing to yet. That's me being honest. I hold to some things to protect myself from a repeat occurrence...it's tough to do that without letting it be a stone tied to my foot as I try to swim. I don't know yet how to balance that, but it will come.
I have learned some things about caring for those whom I might not have wanted to care for. Prayer is a good step in that it softens my heart toward what God would teach me about myself and others.
This path isn't figured out yet, but I think that it will pay off if it gets figured out. I don't expect to really get to the end anytime soon, but hope that I will grow in forgiveness and grace.

Forgiveness, not anger, after Amish school massacre.

One of Life's Hard Lessons

2006-12-07T18:50:00.000-08:00

Yeah, I've had a full life. A full range of emotions and experiences. Maybe not as rich or varied as some who have traveled a lot and had money or others who have experienced war every day of their lives. I think that's where I'll go with this.
I've blogged before about not understanding war and politics. Also blogged about some times when I've felt sorry for myself. One thing I don't understand is why I was born here in Canada and someone else my age was born in a less advantaged place. My life is easy compared to so many other places. I don't live with bombs outside my place, with limbs missing from war activities, with the fear of genocide or torture. It makes me ask why I have it so good and others don't. It also makes me wonder how others find so much to be thankful for, who live under these conditions.
Scott posted a picture of two sets of children. Is it my imagination, or does the girl on the right look genuinely happy? Sure teaches me something about true joy not being dependent on circumstances. And how we aren't thankful enough for what we do have.

Mission

2006-12-03T13:35:00.000-08:00

Our church meets at a cafe, called Main Street Cafe. This is a new place for us, though not for the business.They've been around for five years.
Lately business hasn't been as good, and it's been causing some stress for the owner. We like him, and we like the environment for the Saturday night 'services'. So we decided to do something to help.
Now, when the topic came up I have to admit I was hesitant. I find life busy, and taking on something extra for no certain result was more than I could imagine when we first starting talking. But the others in our home group inspired me by their example. They stated that as Christians it is our place to help those who we can, and that is how they viewed helping the cafe. So we brainstormed what we could do to bring encouragement and perhaps some cash to lift the spirits of the owner and give him hope.
We're getting in deep now. We've painted for 5 full nights, and next we'll be decorating. We have no experience as restauranteers, but we're game to be a sounding board regarding menu, provide a menu format (Scott), bounce ideas around for marketing changes, organize some events to bring in business. We don't have the answers, but we're game to put in some extra time there once in a while. Well, at the beginning perhaps a lot.
I learned something about being "the feet" of Christ on that first night that we talked about this. I realized I'm more reluctant than some others at times, and for that I was ashamed. My level of commitment wasn't as open as theirs. It taught me.
So now I'm rolling with it, and in deep...perhaps too deep, but that's how I do things. I'm excited and tired at the same time.
This might not result in any great benefit for the Cafe, but it's an attempt. And a good lesson about being involved in what happens around us.

#8

2006-11-26T13:07:00.000-08:00

It's time to confess on my second habit. I've been avoiding it, but since this is the end of my series and I opened up the box so to speak, here it is.
At the same time that my smoking habit started, the other began. After swimming at the Cold Lake pool, I tried the showers. Oh, it was heavne. Why did no one tellme about showers before? I stayed in for what seemed like a very short time. The pool guard came to the change room and told everyone to get out of the showers because the pool was closing. Not one to disobey much, I disregarded her warning. No one could separate me from this. A bit later she came by again and with a more elevated voice she told everyone to get out and added some kind of adult "dig" about us not caring to run the pool out of hot water. And you know, I didn't care. But, since we were being shut down I complied.
For the next few years I still only had baths at home. But then I began to form my habit. Ah, the long hot shower. You know, most people really dont get it right. They're out in 5 minutes. Not me. 20 minutes is great.
Nathan tells me that they never run out of water in Scott's (my) house. I don't know what he is talking about, because I run out of hot water every time. In fact, I might have to get someone to spring for a bigger tank. Because maybe 20 minutes just isn't enough. Maybe I should go for the zenith of showers!

#7

2006-11-19T15:56:00.000-08:00

A couple miscellaneous things before I get into this post. You might notice my sidebar has a badgr tag with flickr photos. I couldn't get them all loaded so right now the wedding ones are mostly of me at the beginning of the ceremony. Oops. My free Flickr account won't let me upload any more right now, so I guess I'll look vain until I can add more in December. Plus, it isn't rotating through my whole account of photos, so I need to figure that out. And hey, can anyone tell me how to get it to float right? I used the float-right phrase, but it didn't work.
My next logical post should be my "clean" habit, according to #6. But I have other things on my mind, so I'll make that #8 later.

There are many things I don't understand. I once told a friend, who was very astute about politics, that I don't understand politics or war. He gave me a "you're such a sweet girl" smile, like you give someone who isn't all there. Then he said "It's not a bad thing Annette - just stay that way". I guess I never grew up in that department.
You see, I really don't understand politics. I mean I do in some ways. I'm not totally dumb. I understand that different parties and representatives have different platforms, which represent belief structures. Or maybe they represent rhetoric, more accurately. Some parties are less socialist than others. Is that word even effective to use anymore? I don't know. I also know that what is said during a campaign is like what is said during the beginning of courtship. Each person is trying their best to look and act their best. The real them doesn't shine through as much as it does in a few years when life isn't all rosy and there is farting and no makeup, and weight gain and bad breath. Stuff that isn't seen much during the early phases of a relationship. So, each politician is acting like a suitor, and once the deal is sealed there is an initial attempt at delivery of promises, but after a while this becomes more difficult. Things become less rosy..."farting", lying, changing direction. This is what I figure about politics. Okay, that's the bad part of it. I know there is a lot of good too. But I just can't differentiate platforms well enough. Hey, I voted for Mulroney.
And I don't understand war. I'm not against fighting to protect a nation, and am thankful for those who have fought for me and my family and friends. But the initial cause of war is not protection. It's a by-product. I think the cause of war is sin. Greed, anger, jealousy, prejudice. That's all I know. I don't get it any more than that.
So I'm not the swiftest. It doesn't involve a fairy tale ending. It contributes to the cynic in me, that is sometimes stronger than I want it to be. So I don't get it. Just don't.

2006-11-13T22:05:00.000-08:00

Here is some amazing jambay playing:

#6 My Vices, part one

2006-11-11T11:44:00.000-08:00

I have had two major vices in my life. Both began at the tender age of 10. One habit has lasted many years longer than the other. One habit is much "cleaner" than the other.

I was a smoker. Oh yes, it's true. After all, that was part of the sex appeal in the movies, and with wanting to be a movie star it made sense. But they used long slender plastic holders with filters.
In grade 4, with my sister in grade 7, we together went into the woods by my house on the weekends. This is the same woods in which she chased boys and pinned them down...well, you know the story. Man, she and her kids better not be reading this. You see, very rarely can a family gathering occur without these stories being told and "argued" about. More like teasing really.
So, on Saturdays my sister, who was already a smoker, would go into the woods with me and we would light up. I tried smoke rings, and thought on occasion I had attained them. I think it was probably the wind blowing through them rather than any expertise. What would a child know about smoke rings? After a few weekends of this habit, I caved. I didn't like it much any more and wanted out. But it wasn't that easy. Other people were involved, and knowing that I was a youngest child (insert "squealer" there), blackmail quickly became involved. I had to continue smoking or I would be ratted out for my involvement. Argh. There was a sneaky remedy to that. A pack of matches left in my coat pocket tipped off a curious mother, and "youngest child" spilled the beans.
As an object lesson, my mother rolled some cigarettes from my dad's stash. Gross. The tobacco was hanging out both ends, and they were the flat papers that had to be licked to close. Double gross. I couldn't do it. My sister of course, being the tough one, did. My brother hung out in the doorway, making faces at us so we laughed and got in trouble. There was a poster family moment.
I never smoked again. Oh sure, I was tempted. When my grandma came to visit and rolled her cigarettes I liked to help her. I wanted to hold the cigarette. Not smoke it. Just pose. I resisted the temptation over and over. Maybe the image of her coughing relentlessly from her emphysema helped me avoid using the things. Or watching grandpa die of lung cancer, coughing up black stuff. His was probably from smoking and his job at Cominco. But this isn't really about the dangers of smoking, just the story.

How's your driving knowledge?

2006-11-07T15:26:00.000-08:00

My sister sent this to me. Try it yourself! Don't worry that it's American. The rules are still the same.

Studies show that 1 of 11 drivers cannot score more than 70% on
the GMAC drivers test.

# 5

2006-11-04T17:48:00.000-08:00

Now that I live in a house with 4 guys, there is a lot of burping and farting going on.
And sometimes the guys are the ones doing it too.

Tennis anyone?

2006-11-01T14:39:00.000-08:00

For those of us who are competitive, or have no life:
Tennis challenge

Awesome Pumpkins!

2006-10-30T23:03:00.000-08:00

#4 My true identity

2006-10-30T22:50:00.000-08:00

Recently I've discovered that I'm a famous TV personality. The person I greatly resemble is a classy female. She holds the family together with finesse, and usually manages to get through difficult spots with her hair, dress, and jewelry still in good position. Her job as mom isn't easy, because her three children can be challenging. One is an overachiever, one barely registers on the attention scale, and the other very difficult to deal with. Like my new extended family, but I won't say which person is which. The husband is a bum, with little class, again like........okay maybe that's taking it too far. Who is this classy dame?

Since moving in here, I've noticed a change. When things aren't going my way with tthe computer or I don't like something that is happening (or an answer to one of my questions) I do the gravelly noise that Marg does when she isn't happy. If you watch the show you know what I mean. I can't help it, it just comes. I didn't ask for it. I don't even know that I want it to stay. I just can't seem to stop!

First Kiss

2006-10-28T12:55:00.000-07:00

So, it's your first kiss and several questions might come to mind:

Is it the right time?

Is anyone watching?

Does your partner even want to?

Is your breath fresh?
And the big question...

Should you use some tongue?

Then you lean in and just go for it!!!

#3 Annette Funicello

2006-10-26T22:40:00.000-07:00

I wanted to be an actress. When I was 10, my exposure to movie stars was either Star Trek (William Shatner always showed his chest) or old pictures of movie stars. So, I thought that being a movie star was something refined. Sleek dresses, men with slicked hair, pretty women in high heels. There was always a kissing scene in the movies, and often the women bent one leg slightly when they kissed. When standing on our porch with the wall on one side of it, I used to practise being smooth. I would try to gracefully peer around the corner of the wall, with one leg slightly bent back. I could envision wearing a sleek dress and bright, clicky high heels. Of, if I had a long cigarette holder that would be even sexier.
I was missing one element of movie star imitation. I had never been kissed. My sister and I set a plan into motion to get the necesary experience. But the subjects weren't always willing. That's where my sister came in. I thought she was being nice by helping me catch my running subjects, but really I think she enjoyed my public humiliation. The sad thing is, I didn't know that I should have been humiliated. I know now, and am humiliated to post this.
Go easy on me.

Paper Art

2006-10-23T20:25:00.000-07:00

I like making paper snowflakes with Matthew. We sometimes paint them with glitter paint, because they're prettier that way. To be honest, that's the only redeeming thing about some of my paper snowflakes.
Here are some pictures of paper sculptures that are more amazing than anything I have ever imagined.

#2

2006-10-20T21:20:00.000-07:00

I like clicky things. My favorite memory of seeing the move Serpico when too young to see it was the scene where he was walking down a hallway. I think it was underground. He was wearing dress shoes, that make a click sound with each step. I loved that.
As a girl I liked a play cash register that I used for a while. The sound of the buttons and the opening ding was cool. I learned to play a little organ because I liked to push the keys. Besides liking the music, once again I liked the clicking sound of depressing them. A few years later I began to play the piano, but this time it was because of the music.
I like most things that can be pressed - like a computer keyboard. I wish my keystrokes were more regular, because then I could get a nice sounding rhythm. Because after all, more important than accuracy when typing is.....the clicking sound.

#1

2006-10-17T21:21:00.000-07:00

Since Jenn tagged me for the 8 things about me, I'll play along. There might not be 8 things, because so much has been covered already. Don't mind the repeats. Instead of writing a list in one blog, I'm going to do one blog per item. How boring for you!

In grade 4 I had a best friend named Therese. She had dark wavy hair, darker skin, some excema, was of French descent. Our dads were in the armed forces, and we lived in Medley Alberta, near Cold Lake. Oh by the way, Scott also lived there, but a few years after I left. His grade 7 friend Brent is also a friend of mine. I met Brent a few years ago. 'Small world' hey?
I remember walking to Therese's place across a few streets on the base. I remember her house and her brother and his record collection that was filed in one of those brass coloured metal multi-slot holders. Do you remember those?
At the end of grade 4 my dad's 20 years of service was over, and he opted out rather than staying extra time. I got Therese's address so we could write. I couldn't give her mine, because I didn't know it yet. We left immediately after school was out. That was my first memory of staying in a hotel and flying. I puked on the plane. I was wearing my green palazzo pants. Okay, maybe it was green suit pants. The palazzo ones make a better side story though.
I think my mother was tired of having me around when she made them, because they were death waiting to happen. Every time I walked they would wrap around the opposite leg so that I either walked like a geisha or tripped. Imagine trying to run/hobble to school like that!
This is a long story hey?
I missed Therese so much that I didn't like to think about it. I didn't write her because I thought it would have made me miss her more. So, I just didn't do anything. I remember sitting in grade 6 drama thinking about her, wishing we were still friends.
When I was 21 I tried to find Therese via a name search system and later the internet. I don't really know what that would have done, because we might be so different and then the memory could become jaded. Nostalgia and curiosity I guess. I don't think I really want to find her. I like the image I have in my mind of when we were 10.
If this were Aesops Tale, it would have a moral. And it does. I have learned from Therese that what is surpressed later comes back as more of a problem. If I had been in touch and the relationship slowly declined through natural curcumstances I wouldn't always wonder. I wouldn't idealize it so much. But I don't mind idealizing it, because some childhood memories should be left that way. I have learned though that those things which I don't "deal with" come back to haunt me. Feelings that aren't resolved burn into the soul more than I want them to. Not at that moment perhaps, but years later they surface quickly and surprise. I know that it's best to have dealt with it before that, no matter how it hurts at the time. Surpressing doesn't mean eliminating.
As a reminder of my friend and of my lesson, I keep this. I've thought of letting it go, but don't know that I want to. It has taught me much.
Besides, maybe it will remind me to pray for her.

My Life in a Pie Chart

2006-10-15T23:22:00.000-07:00

Shopping Bags

2006-10-13T22:15:00.000-07:00

2006-10-11T22:46:00.000-07:00

i am so lucky to have scott

In Whatever State I Am

2006-10-07T14:25:00.000-07:00

This Thanksgiving is special for me. I have had a couple hard years and am finding my rhythm in life. It might be a jarring motion and perhaps the movement seems a bit "quirky" or out of step, like the spindle on the chair Erin is restoring. I accept that I am not normal.
Years ago I looked at life around me and thought I was the only normal one, and that most everyone else was weird. I have come to accept that I am unique. But I think that's no different than all of us. Unique...created by Him to be that way.
I have come to accept most of my limitations, my weaknesses, and my passionate manner. I hide my passion in so many ways. Not as overt as others. Not as driven for a cause. But driven to my own ideas, ideals, and standards.
There have been many hard times in my life. You can identify. Dead is the man or woman who has no struggle, for life is about the pull of existence and the path to the Creator. One way or another the soul one day identifies that which it has been avoiding or that which it has been running toward.
I remember happy Thanksgivings and painful ones. Times with friends and family, yet moments of sheer loneliness and inner death. Yes, you know because you have that too.
I'm preparing for tonight's dinner with loved ones. The ones who will be here are different than who I have been with before. The friends are newer, the family very new. It's a happy home today as on all days. Laughing, music, activity. Mine is not a sedentary life, with more people and a bigger house and a puppy. My life is full. My life is good.
Over the years and the hopes and the disappointments and the turmoil and the wish for a second child and asking God why about many things several times, I have learned one thing. That even in misery there is still something to be thankful for. Sometimes I had to go to the basics of existence, even when I perhaps wished existence was snuffed out. I was thankful for family even though I missed some of them. Thankful for what God has taught, through the joy and even the pain. Not for the pain, but for the outcome.
I have learned that in whatever state I am, to give thanks. Sounds pious but it isn't. Sounds unrealistic and difficult and it is. Sometimes I was too much of a baby to do it at the times I should. I haven't perfected it. But I have learned that I haven't arrived and I'm okay with that.
This Thanksgiving I wish you life. In your depths, in your love, in your wish to remove yourself from the pain of this moment of living, in your hopes. I wish you life. It will come.