Live.Every.Last.Drop

I've Moved

2009-07-17T18:22:00.000-07:00

I change my mind a lot.

You can find me at http://beautifulanddirtydirtypoor.blogspot.com/

(It's a play on Lady Gaga's "Beautiful, Dirty, Rich"... I'm SO clever)

Level Ground

2009-04-20T12:14:00.000-07:00

This weekend has been an emotional one, but it was one in which things that had happened in my past could be used to reach out to a hurting heart.

Drug addiction is ugly. Sharing life with teens who have been overcome by addiction is perhaps even more heartbreaking because as an outsider, I cannot ignore all the potential/promise that is being crushed.

Both days this weekend I spent some time visiting a young women in detox. Meth has had her on a string for four years now. She told me that every time she pushes against it, "it" pushes back harder. She's been fighting and is exhausted. There were very real moments during our visit that left me completely speechless. I refuse to give cliche advise/words of encouragement. It is condescending and sets progress two steps back. I prayed the whole drive into Vancouver- my goal was to sit and listen and let God do the talking.

I cannot count the times that the Spirit has come upon me and given me words to speak. Many times I feel like I am sitting to the side and listening to the words coming from my mouth. I remember talking to one of my girls as she was preparing to move out. With tears in her eyes, she told me that she had never come across a person like me before.

"When I speak, you just listen and even though you haven't been through what I have been through, you get it. I feel like you understand what I am saying and feeling. I used to always tell people who have never had addictions that they had no clue what I was going through... I never could use that line on you, and I don't know why. I don't get how you could understand, but it is obvious you do."

I am nt patting myself on the back. Like Kim, who commented on my previous post said, I am helpless. I am dealing with my own emotions. Never having touched drugs does not put me in a place to help girls with severe addictions. I was a straight A student in high school. All I did during my teen years was homework. How the heck does a person like me relate to a girl who is involved in a gang? Working the streets? Dealing drugs? Pimping out her "friends"? Constantly in and out of jail for assault?

I can't.

I know I am not equipped in any way to even begin to help these girls.

But God does. I am not here for any other reason but that God sees me as a person he can use to help these girls. He loves to run counter to logical thought. There is no doubt in me that any and every "success" belongs to him. My head doesn't get bigger each time I see a something take hold; instead, I am brought to my knees. My God is incredible! I get to bear witness to him reaching out to these hurting girls and give them exactly what they need!

Over a year ago I went to a seminar in East Vancouver at "Jacobs Well" that was aimed at caring for the marginalized. One of the images that really stuck with me was the need to approach all you do on "level ground." Our culture and human nature tends to dehumanize the needy. We come in on our high horses and expect that we'll make a big difference with "those needy little people." Joyce painted this image of "us" standing up on a pedestal handing down our charity to "them." She warned that in taking such an approach, you put yourself at risk for being used. It breaks a human spirit to be treated as "charity" and/or be pitied; moreover, in taking this approach, you'll miss out on being transformed by the experience.

Real relationships are two-way. It is cocky and condescending to approach any relationship as the "saviour." The people you deal with will shut down. They'll close their hearts and put out their hands.

A few years ago, I was in a very dark place. The depression was debilitating. I felt ashamed when Scotty would come home from work and I would still be in my pajamas. I didn't care about my future. Everything appeared grey. I just felt exhausted and really believed I would never see "colour" again.

On Saturday, in front of Starbucks and a complete stranger (the detox worker who could not let this young woman out of her sight), I burst into tears. She told me that she just didn't care about life anymore. This young woman didn't have a shred of hope in her eyes as she spoke so numbly about how she really felt. I sat an listened until she was silent for a long time.

Then I opened my mouth.

The spirit came upon me and I was reminded of that dark place I had been in. That dark place that made it exhausting to live. I stared her in the eyes, and through sobs told her that I knew exactly how she felt. I really had been there and it was hell. Pure hell.

It was the most eye contact she gave me during that visit. I had her attention. God was using my pain to speak to her heart. He was using my tears to show humility. He used my brokenness to make her feel understood.

I didn't come in on a white horse. I crawled right beside her.

I gained much healing from that experience. God has placed each and every one of these young women in my life. I have learned so much. I have been inspired by their strength. Their role in my life has transformed the person that I am, and continues to do so.

God helps me meet these girls where they are. I am not "all-together." I never will be (I don't know one person who is), but God fills the cracks, the gaping holes- and gets down on His hands and knees right there beside us.

Pulled.

2009-04-17T15:33:00.000-07:00

I have really been exploring what it means to do the small things with great love.

I have been pretty closed-off about work on my blog because I don't want to infringe on any of my girls' privacy, but there are many stories of courage and strength, of struggle and heartbreak-- it may do more harm to not share them.

Three weeks ago, I crashed on a friend's visit with some people I had never met... luckily this friend is the most welcoming person ever and just pulled up a chair for me and introduced me to her friends. Within minutes I was talking non-stop about my work. I completely lost track of time. It was nearly midnight when I got in my car to drive home.

What's funny is that I don't often talk about work.

I'll say bits and pieces here and there, but a lot of stuff happens and I won't even come home and tell Scotty about my day. Working 60+ hrs a week isn't bad... what gets me is the emotional toll it has on me.

I've worked with 23 young women over the past 2 and a (nearly) half years, and I have 23 life-stories that could bring a person to their knees in sorrow.

There are a lot of things that make my blood boil. Things that have been done to these beautiful young women that they never deserved... that have left huge scars. That have crushed their hopes.

Each of these young women has touched my soul. Each one has left a mark on my heart.

Being witness to their scars leaves me feeling empty. Helpless and often hopeless.

After hearing their stories and looking into their eyes, it seems impossible to say, "don't worry God has a plan for your life." It isn't that I don't believe that they have potential: any person who can survive what they have has more strength than I can ever hope to have. What I struggle with is the odds. The odds are stacked against them.

My stomach is always in knots. I often try to avoid talking about work as some sort of denial. It is so easy to lose sight of God in all of it because it is in the absence of God that these horrors were/are done to them.

Hopelessness is contagious. I catch it alot.

The other night as I was talking to one of my former coworkers, she shook her head and said,"I often wonder is this is really what I want to do for a career." That struck a chord with me. I often joke that I will become an interior designer, dolphin trainer, or beach bum when I have my "break-down." Everywhere I turn is heartbreak. Problems that cannot easily be solved. Addictions that never fully go away...

And I can say that every time... EVERY TIME I start to think that way, a still small voice says the same thing to me:

"If you stop working in this area, the heartbreak won't change- it will be there whether you choose to work with it or not. The only factor that will change if you leave is you: you will be choosing to close your eyes to it."

A career change won't change their stories. There will always be pain, heartache and deep scars. I have control over nothing. As we stood in the kitchen and chatted- we both came to the same conclusion: we're here because we're supposed to be. We could both pinpoint moments in our lives in which God revealed we were EXACTLY where God wants us.

There are so many days that I feel I am not doing enough; further, there are days that I feel I am not doing any good. I feel frustrated and discouraged ALL THE TIME.

As I drove home, I burst into tears as I surrendered my life to my God for the thousandth time. While I don't understand my part in it- I cannot deny that God has placed me here. I continue to show up, and no matter how hard it gets, I can't see myself leaving. I feel an irresistible pull to this job that defies all logic, and I know that it is Him taking my hand and leading me to these girls whose stories have broken His heart as well. He asks me to be His hands and His feet. He's working in their hearts, and I am but a tiny piece of the puzzle in their lives. I cannot see what is being done within them and I have to be okay with that. I have to trust even though I don't understand... even though I don't see the bigger picture.

Mother Teresa once said: "God doesn't call us to be successful. He call's us to be faithful."

It's not my place to heal the brokenness, to get an addict clean, to explain "why this had to happen to you." My place is to serve. To keep coming back. To continually surrender to Him.

I am learning. God is not only moving through me, but he's moving within me. I am broken and made new over and over again.

And through it all I am made stronger.

Hope

2009-04-16T01:11:00.000-07:00

I am thirsty.

I am tired.

I am overwhelmed. Stressed. Sick.

The hunger no longer hurts. I am numb and cold and know I am near death.

Then-- I hear a knock.

I open the door and am surrounded in warmth. Healing hands grab hold of me and begin doing their work. I am fed. Water pours over me and removes the filth. My burdens are lifted.

My pain is gone.

I am the soul, and I have been made new.

Sometimes it's Just an Apple

2009-03-18T23:12:00.001-07:00

Blogs can be funny. I am sure that everyone who writes one feels silly on a regular basis, wondering why the heck they have one, and whether anyone really reads it.

But sometimes it is just so right. Sometimes we have something important to say. Sometimes it touches people deeply, and starts to stir something in their hearts.

That is exactly what my friend Ashley's latest post is.

My Mother Teresa mantra slides right in beside this post, and has got me thinking about how we don't like to approach any problem unless we can solve it.

Ashley didn't, she just did something small.

But what if she did that small thing often? What would that do?

She wouldn't burn herself out. She couldn't use the excuse of lacking time and/or money.

But she could share with someone who needs something. It would inevitibly trickle into the rest of her life because she would stop trying to solve the problem, but instead, live in the moment and do what she can at that moment. She would be more attuned to needs and see ways that she could do the "small things with great love."

And if it caught on with her friends, what then?

There is a stirring in my spirit, to get over myself, to find no act to small, to act now with whatever I can.

Sometimes love is just an apple given to a hungry person. Sometimes those little things have the ability to transform not only the people involved, but the witnesses as well.

Meet Mowgli

2009-03-17T19:39:00.000-07:00

In my heartbreak, I found love. In my tears I found generosity.

And it came from someone I hardly know.

I have been feeling sick to my stomach over losing Hanzel. His death came so suddenly, without warning, and has left me feeling broken.

My job has grown. Not only am I managing a group home, but I am also helping run a guys home and have just added support/one to one worker to my resume. I am working with a girl who has just "aged out" of the system, and is now an adult living on semi-independent living.

I only met her just over a month ago, and have only logged a handful of hours actually getting to know her.

But she showed me HUGE love just last week.

I love the quote by mother Teresa that says: "we can do no great things, only small things with great love." It has been my
"mantra" if you will, at my job. So many of the situations that I find myself working in are so messy and the stories so heart-breaking, that I am often left feeling so small, helpless and completely overwhelmed.

And that is where he enter and whispers "love big... period."

But last week, he used a practical stranger, who I've been hired to work with, to teach me a thing or two about "small things with great love."

At the beginning of the year, her cat had a litter of kittens. She picked out her favourite, and sold his four other brother and sisters (to cover the cost of vet bills). When I showed up at her door and told her of my heart break, she lunged at me and embraced me in a big hug.

Her empathy was comforting, and while she knew me least- I felt she understood me most. The next day she gave me a card she had made and told me that she wanted me to take her kitten "because he will make you happy."

I burst into tears at her generosity, and she seemed somewhat confused.

What seemed to me to be such a huge sacrifice on her part came so naturally to her, that she didn't think it to be a big deal.

I tried to pay her, to at least cover the vet bills, but she would have none of it.

When I said, "why are you being so generous when you don't have any money?" (side note: she really doesn't- I help her with her meager finances), she simply shrugged and said "I don't know, I just know you should have him."

Her small thing touched me so deeply. Getting something form someone who has nothing will do that to a person.

But having someone give you something, or do something for you without the conviction of sacrifice on their behalf, and to do it simply for you because they see the need...

Well, that's a love I long to live.

Falling On My Knees

2009-03-16T13:44:00.000-07:00

My Father is an artist.

His creation gives me goosebumps. It brings me to tears. It removes the words from my mouth. It covers me in emotion. It connects me to my soul. It points me to something deeper.

It brings me to my knees.

I saw this preview while I was in Seattle last month. As soon as the camera pans back on the first scene, my body becomes covered in goosebumps. My hair stands on end, and I am brought to tears.

I don't know what it is. It is so hard to explain, but I think that it at least has something to do with the fact that most of my existence occurs within this man-made bubble. I live under artificial lighting, breathe stale air, stare at TV and computer screens, eat processed food, run on pavement, talk on my cell phone, travel by car, and save money to buy more man-made stuff.

When I see this, I come face to face with the fact that I am not living in my Father's art. He created it for me. I am created to live in it, yet I live in that which is making me sick. I see how I am selling myself short. The bible says that what is on earth mirrors what will be in heaven. When I see something like this, I am brought to tears because it awakens my soul. I am brought to my knees because... well, I really cannot put it into words.

I'll let it speak for itself

Rainbow Bridge

2009-03-11T21:32:00.000-07:00

On my bedside table sits a little silvery ceramic pot with a rainbow glaze. It is the size of a large coffee mug. Beside it sits a small piece of plaster with a paw print.

The only physical items I have left of my little friend.

Scotty picked up Hanzel's ashes the other day. To see that tiny little pot made me feel ill. To think that what held such a big part of my heart was reduced to fit inside that seemed almost too much...

... but it came with a poem/story that brought healing to my broken heart, called "Rainbow Bridge"

Just this side of heaven is a place called the Rainbow Bridge. When an animal dies, that has been especially close to someone here, that pet goes to Rainbow Bridge. There are meadows and hills for all of our special friends so they can run and play together. There is plenty of food, water, and sunshine. And our friends are warm and comfortable. All the animals who have been ill and old are restored to health and vigour; those who were hurt or maimed are made whole and strong again, just as we remember them in our dreams of the days and times gone by.

The animals are happy and content, except for one small thing-- they miss someone very special to them who had to be left behind. They all run and play together, but the day come when one suddenly stops and looks up into the distance. His bright eyes are intent, his eager body begins to quiver.

Suddenly he begins to run from the group. Flying over the green grass, his legs carrying him faster and faster. You have been spotted, and when you and your special friend finally meet, you cling together n joyous reunion, never to be parted again. The happy kisses rain upon your face, your hands again caress the beloved head, and you look once more into the trusting eyes of your pet, so long gone from your life but never absent in your heart.

Then you cross the Rainbow Bridge together.................................

-Author Unknown

I have always believed that animals will be in heaven, but have received tons of criticism regarding my belief. To think that God would create such amazing creatures that can win a heart in one look, who become a valued member of the family and seem to "get" you when no one else does-- only to toss them away at the end of their all-too-short lives didn't sound/seem like the Father that I know. Sites like this have been such a reassurance to me in my sorrow.

On the next sunny day that both Scotty and I have off, we'll take that little ceramic pot across the Point Roberts boarder, and let our little lion be carried in the wind currents off the clay cliffs over-looking the ocean.

Hole in My Heart.

2009-03-08T14:27:00.000-07:00

On a clear October night back in 2005, a scruffy grey and white kitten was smuggled across the Point Roberts boarder in an old camera bag.

He was charming and funny and earned himself the name Hanzel. He was “so hot right now” (named after the male model in Zoolander for being incredibly good-looking).

Hanzel grew into a 17 pound kitten. He believed Panda to be his mother, and somehow convinced her to bathe him on a regular basis. He “nursed” off blankets, sweatshirts, bathrobes and any other soft item left on the floor. As he held the fabric in his mouth, purring loudly with eyes closed, he would kneed the fabric with his big white paws.

On Sunday March 1st, 2009. Hanzel fell ill. Despite efforts and a three night stay at the vets, his condition only worsened.

X-rays revealed that Hanzel had a large heart and suffered complications related to a blood clot in the arteries feeding the intestines.

On Wednesday March 4th, 2009, it was clear that Hanzel was ready to go.

As he lie on the table, I hugged him and kissed him. I told him Scotty, Panda and I loved him and would forever miss him. I asked him to say “hello” to Sheena, Christmas, Kya, Toots and all my other past pets when he entered those pearly gates. I cried as I told him that while I wasn’t ready to let him go, I knew that God was calling back this little furry grey and white angel that I had been blessed to have lived with and loved these past three and a half years.

My heart is broken. There is a huge hole in our house. Scotty, Panda and I wander room to room, instinctively looking for him.

When I spoke to my mother on the phone after returning for the vets to tell her my heart break, she burst into tears. Being an animal lover herself, she understood the intense bond an animal spirit can have with a human spirit.

I told her Hanzel was born with a large heart and there was no way we could have known something like this would have happened, and she added, “it’s true, he REALLY did have a big heart, and was seen in the way that he loved.”

I am convinced our “little lion” lavished more love on me in those three shorts years than many owners ever experience in a pet’s normal lifespan.

As Scotty and I sobbed and held each other, we agreed that while we felt such an immense loss, we also felt so blessed to have had those three years with him.

He touched us deeply, loved us loyally and bought much joy into our lives.

Rest in peace our “little lion” with the big heart. We love you and will never forget you. While your life was short, you gave us everything you had each and every precious day. Be happy where you are.

Chelsea Likes To...

2009-02-19T21:20:00.000-08:00

I avoided the "25 Things About Me" on facebook because I am just too complex... and I nearly died last Friday from the flu.

I have, however stumbled upon another funny thing going around facebook, the "likes to."

Go to google and type your name followed by "likes to" (all in quotation marks) and then write down the first ten phrases you read.

Mine are complex, like me.

1. Chelsea likes to hump.
2. Chelsea likes to be a ham in front of the camera
3. Chelsea likes to be in the swimming pool and thinks it's fun to look at herself in the mirror.
4. Chelsea likes to be lazy and surround herself with pillows.
5. Chelsea likes to nap by "Bizzy Girl."
6. Chelsea likes to Sew & Draw!
7. Chelsea likes to take full advantage of technology and dry up asap.
8. Chelsea likes to teach.
9. Chelsea likes to throw balls at her coworkers, but doesn't know they aren't playing.
10. Chelsea likes to visit them (alpacas), sticking her nose through the fence.

That's it! I'm off for a nap with "Bizzy Girl" and then I'm gonna call my mom and ask her why she gave me a dog name.

(If you leave a comment, PLEASE share one or more of your "likes to")

Scotty Likes to...

2009-02-19T21:00:00.000-08:00

1. Scotty likes to MOVE IT!
2. Scotty likes to play with pigs.
3. Scotty likes to go everywhere with you.
4. Scotty likes to say: "Winning is everything baby."
5. Scotty likes to dry hump.
6. Scotty likes to get in early and get settled.
7. Scotty likes to scream and yell.
8. Scotty likes to concentrate in a study that provides hope.
9. Scotty likes to drink, swear and be downright nasty.
10. Scotty likes to dabble in photography and film making or anything that he deems creative and an overly expensive hobby.

Sweets. Sounds. Sass

2009-02-09T15:19:00.000-08:00

Christmas 2008 was especially homemade.

Not only did I Scotty and I agree to make each others' gifts (which will be a Martens tradition), I made a handful of my girls a fun little SUGAR ROCK gift complete with mixtapes (cd's), feather hair pieces, and Boombox gingerbread cookies

I feel that the mixtape says "I like you"... and it's true, I do. I picked up the feathers the same day I grabbed the gems. Note the clever use of my gems on the cd cases AND the hair pieces. Sometimes while I craft things I give them names as they take form. I lovingly named my hair clips as I was wiring and glueing them together.

"QUEEN OF HEARTS"

"PEACOCK-A-DOODLE-DO"

"PURPLE RAIN"

"CHERRY, CHERRY"

"BLONDIE"

These cookies where my only Christmas baking this year. I knew gingerbread men would only be white noise, so I made boomboxes inspired by the boombox (bottom right)I love to listen to while I'm doing chores at work.

Much Better

2009-02-06T22:22:00.000-08:00

Thanks to Megan's blog, mine looks way cuter now.

And I like cute.

Kinda took me back to the days of huntin' for templates for myspace.

If Only I Were as Cute as This Year's Calendar

2009-02-04T14:45:00.000-08:00

I usually go for the tropical beaches calendar, but this year I couldn't resist Ms. Boop.

Avoiding the Binge

2009-02-04T12:52:00.000-08:00

Apparently it is February. Apparently the darkest, lamest, boringest month of the year is over.

Apparently.

In a month where time seems to almost stand still, time has flown by. Makes me wonder what the rest of 2009 will be like?

While today it looks and feel like spring (I'm wearing capri sweats), I'm gonna go back and FINALLY post a wee bit of Christmas 2008. Like I already said, my computer was on the brink of a big crash because it was so full that I couldn't even upload pictures from my camera.

So now come the posts. There will be a lot because I took a lot of pictures with the posts in mind, and sometimes I am so not interesting, so I hate to waste anything remotely interesting.

As the last guests left our home just after Christmas over a year ago, I knew that something had to change. Being that Christmas is such a consumer-driven holiday in North America, it's SO hard not to get sucked in.

And man, have I been sucked in.

After the Holiday BINGE is over, I am always left feeling mentally and emotionally sick. It became really apparent to me last year that I'm an adult chasing after the Christmas' of my childhood, and kinda like the drug addict who keeps chasing his first high, I was chasing after those magical feelings that accompanied my childhood Christmas'. Being that I could never quite capture it, I did what my North American upbringing tells me to do...

Up the ante. Buy more. Get more. Do more.

Looking back on my past adult Christmas', I feel pretty sheepish. I was the bratty girl who would make up specific lists outlining what I wanted (rather, expected to get). I would give every detail, right down to the style, size, colour, and location. While people in my life were way too kind and would buy me what I asked for and tell me that they preferred having the specifics instead of aimlessly wandering crowded malls only to buy me something I wouldn't use- it only encouraged the unfillabe monster.

Last year, I kinda "got it." I asked for a $50 bag and then bought Scotty a PSP, and I found that I didn't feel near as disappointed even though I got a lot less stuff. What I couldn't shake was that my favourite part about the Holidays was a sunny Christmas Eve afternoon spent wandering the local bookstore and a lunch of sushi with Scotty.

So simple, yet it felt so great.

Inspired by the fact that I enjoyed that quality time the most, Scotty and I agreed not to buy gifts this past year, but instead, to do homemade gifts.

My time was seriously cramped by the fact that we got back from Cuba three days before Christmas, and I worked 36 hrs at the group home before Christmas morning.

I did manage to write him a poem, make him a coupon book (inspired by a funny conversation with a couple girl friends last fall... he even got a coupon that read: "I will admit that you are right and I am wrong in ONE argument of your choosing) and paint him a tee shirt.

His gift won him the "Crafts Genius" award (I have a funny plush toys craft book that reads "and once you are finished, hold up your new plushie and say to yourself: 'I am a crafts genius'") for this year's gift...

My bike.

Every year Tsawwassen has this killer "Spring Cleaning" weekend where everyone in Tsawwassen puts whatever they no longer want/need on the curb in front of their house to be collected on the following Monday on the oversize garbage day. People really get into it here. On the Sunday afternoon, all of Tsawassen becomes especially neighbourly. Children ride their bikes from pile to pile looking for treasures. Families load up their cars, and people even put signs on what they are giving away ("still works"... "only 2 years old" etc.). The sun always seems to shine on that day. I have found a floor lamp that we still use, a big grass curtain that I made into a rug and Scotty scored a Hip-ity-Hop. Last year I decided I wanted to find a bike. Within an hour we were back at the house with my "new" set of wheels, which was in dire need of a good scrubbing and tires.

Then summer came like a whirlwind, and my bike just sat in the carport until Scotty pulled out my Laurentian to give it a second "life".

(Took my bike for a spin around the kitchen and livingroom)

While Christmas was a true whirlwind (I had exactly 12 hrs to enjoy it between shifts at the group home), I didn't make myself ill on the Christmas binge; instead, I am bent on winning the "crafts genius" award next year.

Just Checking In

2009-02-01T22:05:00.001-08:00

I finally emptied by laptop enough to make some free space so I don'thave to worry about the big crash every time I turn the poor thing on and it reads: "Startup Disk Full."

I've got about 10,000 things I would like to write about, but Ive also got about 10,000 pages to read in order to catch up in my courses.

I'll be back soon.

La Dolce Vita

2009-01-20T11:31:00.000-08:00

Now that I got my raise (a modest one, but every little bit helps), despite the global recession, I'm still looking to fail... but that's another post...

Anyways, money is tight everywhere, for practically everyone... and it's likely that we're all gonna feel the squeeze even more in these coming months.

Growing up with a mother who had endured a childhood living in poverty has taught me that being short on cash doesn't mean that life can't be rich.

My mom grew up in a home complete with plywood walls. It made for extremely cold winters considering that she lived much of her childhood years in the interior of B.C. She told us about how she used to wake up on those winter mornings with frost down the walls. She and her siblings slept under those grey scratchy wool blankets. They didn't have a bathroom, but instead had to make treks out to the out house, and bathe in a big tin wash bucket.

She had a doll (emphasis on the lack of plural), and she loved it. While she loved sports, she never got to be part of a team because her family couldn't afford the gas to pick her up after practice.

I have had the privilege of learning from the best on how to pinch pennies, and growing up hearing about her childhood, I have an entirely different view on what it means to be poor, and conversely, what it means to be blessed.

Being thrifty is bred into me, but there's always room to grow. I actually wear my ability to be thrifty as a badge of honour and I am always looking for inspiration and ideas.

One of my favourite blogs is Pink Of Perfection: A Thrifty Girl's Guide to La Dolce Vita.

Just looking at her blog makes me want to cook and craft and enjoy what I have at the tips of my fingers. Like the practice of building muscle, the thrifty/crafty "muscle" must be flexed and worked in order to be built up. My experience over the past year (just over three weeks shy of my buy nothing new), despite my slip in buying shoes the other week, has really taught me that there is potential in a lot of stuff that I would've normally passed by. I was telling my mom the other day that I was talking through the dollar store and I came upon a pair of men's XXL red and black checked boxers and right away my mind's eye flashed an extremely cute capelet.

I joked with my friend Liz that it is an illness. Rarely can I ever let anything be the way it is. I'm constantly looking at ugly, goofy things wondering how they could be altered into something great.

While this past year has greatly improved my "thrift/creative muscle"- I am well aware there are people out there who could put me and my men's dollar store boxer capelet to shame, and I find heaps of inspiration in their ability to squeeze every last drop from a thrifty life so that instead of living life looking at all the things they cannot afford, they see a challenge to use what's available to build la dolce vita

: )

2009-01-19T17:45:00.000-08:00

I got a wee raise.

Sometimes

2009-01-16T11:20:00.000-08:00

Sometimes I write about silly fluff. A lot in life is silly fluff.

...and then there are moments that life gets very real. Only a few weeks into a new year, and life has gotten very real. My heart has been broken. Not for myself, but for my friends.

Life feels heavy. There isn't much time that goes by that I don't think about them. That I don't whisper a short prayer for peace.

So sometimes I write about fluff because life is too real.

I am not the victim. By no means should anyone feel even slightly sorry for me. My life is good. I believe I am extremely blessed.

But then there are friends who are being stretched, knocked down, beat up... friends who are suffering, who are grieving.

And it is in this that I am learning love. Never in my life have I told my friends that I love them with such honesty and intimacy.

And it is not a one-way street. Despite the swells that threaten to topple- they have reached out to me and shown me love... and I am amazed.

It has cast an entirely different light on all my relationships. It has made me appreciate people in a way I never have before.

A wise friend of mine has said that a person is truly and richly blessed when they have a small handful of friends/family who really do support them, and that the rest doesn't matter.

Another wise friend says that friends are the family that you choose. Not everyone is blessed with the most stable and supportive biological family, and even if they are, there are friends who come along and become sisters, brothers, fathers and mothers.

If I have written more fluff lately than usual, it is because my words cannot do justice to the reality of life. Sometimes life comes down to that which is unspoken: a ringing phone, hugs, tears, laughter, understanding, silence, love, patience, and just showing up.

To Do: Become Friends With Failure

2009-01-16T00:18:00.000-08:00

Like I've already stated in my "To Do" list- I want to fail more.

Despite the pain and inevitable embarrassment (as I am somewhat of a perfectionist), I really do hope to get better acquainted with failure so that I don't fear it so much.

I came across this quote tonight. I am going to post it somewhere that I will see it often, so that I am not tempted to slide back into the safe, dull comfort of only trying things I'm practically guaranteed success at.

Failure should be our teacher, not our undertaker. Failure is delay, not defeat. It is a temporary detour, not a dead end. Failure is something we can avoid only by saying nothing, doing nothing, and being nothing.
- Denis Waitley

PS- no word on my raise, but a girl can dream... and work 60hrs a week.

Bejeweler

2009-01-14T15:30:00.000-08:00

When I was a kid, my mom sewed a ton of our clothes. We had THE BEST Halloween costumes because she made them from scratch.

One year I was a princess (I used to tell people that I wanted to be a princess when I grew up... ah the joys of childhood naïveté). My mom made me this beautiful pink dress with a separate bejeweled pullover vest.

I LOVED that vest. I used to wear it alone with only a pair of underwear. I would pretend that it was my gymnastics outfit. More specifically, my "fantastics" outfit. Fantastics was my own special blend of dance and gymnastics. I used to spend hours in the basement doing rolls, pirouettes, flips and jumps. My bejeweled vest made me feel ultra-sassy.

I remember my mom telling me to put on pants on numerous occasions. It used to anger me to no end. Why couldn't she see that I was wearing my uniform- fantastics can't be practiced with pants!!!

Last month a turned 26, and I wanted to buy myself a bejeweler. I was sure there'd be something in the toy store, but I had no luck. I DID, however, stumble upon some awfully pretty gems in Michaels. The moment I got home I dumped them all out and sorted them into colours.

Now to make my fantastics outfit...

I Like You: Hospitality Under the Influence

2009-01-11T14:51:00.000-08:00

Last week as I was running errands I ducked into our local bookstore to see what I could add to my bookshelf or coffee table.

After a few minutes of browsing I came across the "Funny/Comedy" section, as I flipped open Amy Sedaris' book, I found myself laughing out loud at the pure stupidity of it.

I grabbed the last two copies (one for myself, and the other for a friend who could use a laugh) and headed out into the snow.

While it feels strange to laugh to the point of tears at a book, that's exactly what I've been doing. It's especially awkward when read in a room full of people who have no clue why you think what looks like a recipe book is so funny.

And for some, the humour isn't their style- it's random and stupid at best.

I just happen to LOVE random and stupid.

From what little I have read, here's a few teasers to give you an idea:

When I started this book I fantasized that I would be able to do it on my own and in my spare time (how hard can it be? It’s recipes…). But after a few minutes of trying to type, that quaint fantasy quickly turned into desperate phone calls. It turns out to be very hard to steal a recipe.

On children’s parties:

Children before [the age of five] are too young to understand the concept of presents. You can gift wrap a head of cabbage and give it to a two-year-old and they won’t know the difference... [AND] Children’s parties should have a set time-limit, like "from 2 to 2:30," because, given a child’s boundless energy and the lack of yours, you will never wear them down.

On entertaining the elderly:

It’s never good to stereotype. All of your guests are individuals with different needs. Except in the case of the elderly. You can pretty much count on all of them not liking loud music and being cold.

Even if you don’t want to be the host:

There is nothing wrong with not wanting to be a hospitable person and have groups of people in your home touching your personables. Luckily, this sturdy book wll also inform you on how to be the perfect guest. From the minute you say, "yes I’ll be there," until the moment you say "I’m sorry, I should go," you have an important role in making the party a hit.

A recipe idea:

Take the chewed up cracker that is in your mouth and top it on another cracker and eat it

As I stated in my "to do" list at the beginning of the month, I want to laugh more and take myself less seriously... done.

I made it 11 months

2009-01-07T17:04:00.000-08:00

Until I bought new shoes.

With only a month left on my buy no new clothes for a year (intimates not included... yuck)- I found myself wandering through the tiny mall in White Rock this afternoon- hiding from the rain.

I had hoped to meet a friend for a visit, but she has been overtaken by one of the many nasty bugs going around...

So I browsed... and browsed, and then turned around and browsed all over again.

All the while dreaming of a pretty pair of shoes I had stumbled upon within minutes of walking into the mall.

I have truely loved doing the thrift thing, and plan on continuing it for clothing, but I've had such poor luck with shoes.

It's been a dry 11 months, and today I cheated.

I'm not going to make excuses- I was well aware I was breaching my comittment. You can judge me...

I judge me.

Here's an idea of the temptation I simply couldn't run from:

While mine aren't Prada- they were only $32 after tax.

It's Not So Bad

2009-01-05T16:22:00.000-08:00

Like the dark, spiders, and heights, the idea of failing terrifies me.

I'm sure I am not alone. No one likes to fail, but not everyone is as easily deterred from acting on something as I am. Rarely will I attempt something unless I am fairly certain that I will succeed. The mere potential of failure is enough to keep me from pursuing things I actually want.

Sure, the things I do try often do turn out near perfect, but I likely could've told you that before I even tried. I rarely surprise myself because I am so safe with my choices/actions, and that is no way to live.

I need balance. I need to try things that I am likely to fail at because that is the only chance I have to feel the thrilling side of success.

And I need to see that being told "no" or falling flat on my face really isn't as bad as I thought it was.

Hence the email I just sent.

I asked for a raise during a global economic crisis...

Now I got a stomach full of butterflies, and I'll probably jump every time I hear my phone ring or see a new message waiting in my inbox, but the reality is that I have been thinking about asking for a raise since September. Sometimes I try to convince myself and others that I don't pursue things I want to because I am procrastinating... but that is rarely the real reason. The job I am in is not the way a person builds a savings account. I make peanuts, and even with a raise, I'd still make peanuts. I'm sure I'll live my entire life making peanuts... there's not a lot of money in helping "the least of these" and I am completely fine with it.

Peanuts... because I haven't said that word enough.

It's largely symbolic to me. It's about doing something I am afraid of well as reaffirming myself by refusing to belittle what I do.

We'll see what happens. For now, I'll keep repeating what Scotty (who will dive head-first into practically anything... I am so jealous!)reassured me with: "it never hurts to ask."

2009: A Green Year

2009-01-05T11:54:00.000-08:00

While I recycle like a fiend, buy fair trade organic coffee, spend a lot on a litre of organic milk and free range eggs, refuse to eat meat, rely on reusable bags for my groceries, carpool when possible and recycle my clothes... I am far from the green person I want to be.

This morning I turned on CBC while going about my duties at work (I'm trying to get that daily news thing down). A story caught my attention: CBC's "One Million Act's Of Green" initiative aimed at uniting Canadians in a mission to do one at least one green thing.

This season, CBC and The Hour with George Stroumboulopoulos want to mobilize Canadians to do One Million Acts of Green. In partnership with Cisco, the idea behind the campaign is that one small act can make a big difference.

It’s not about overhauling your life; it’s about one act from each individual amassing to a million. It can be as simple as switching to compact fluorescent lightbulbs, starting a recycling program, or walking to work. You can do one act – or you can do all one million! It’s up to you.

Young and old, parents and kids, small towns and big cities, we want to create an exciting grassroots initiative. All you have to do is go to this website and register one act – or more.

I just signed up and set the page to be my new homepage (sorry Nylon)so that I am reminded to act, improve, be inspired and make some new habits that will make this earth a better place to live.

As the snow falls...

2009-01-04T22:54:00.000-08:00

...I am listening to the perfect soundtrack- aside from Christmas music of course!

I can't take any of the credit, my friend Jacqui told me all about it.

I just went to itunes, listened, and dropped some coin on the 2006 album entitled, "Dance Party in The Balkans"

Alaska in Winter has been my soundtrack over these past few weeks as I dreamily stare out the window at the falling snow.

Aside from treacherous driving, the snow is AMAZING!!! When I am trapped at work, I find myself constantly running out onto the front steps to just take in the silence that seems to only come with a snowfall. And there is this smell that takes me back to my earliest winters when we lived in the interior of BC.

Tomorrow I'm told that we'll see the end of this cold-snap, and January will resume the dreariness that normally characterizes Westcoast winters- so tonight I'll make sure to breathe extra deep, and not complain.

To Do List

2009-01-03T21:30:00.000-08:00

Learn Spanish. Get more hours at work. Balance work an school. Establish a regular yoga practice. Eat more "God-made" foods and less "man-made." Become a sushi-master. Make some new friends at the local old-age home. Teach myself guitar. Re-learn to play my saxamaphone. Picnic. Go to Shi Shi beach. Fall back in love with running. Get outside!. Put live plants in my aquarium. Rescue a canary from the animal shelter. Take dance lessons with Scotty. Hike. Give more home-made gifts. Continue to be a devoted refashionista beyond my one year of "buy nothing new" commitment. Bring back the potluck in a BIG way. Beach walks. Learn the art of the quick-visit with busy friends. Pray all the time. Watch/read the news regularly. Get involved in saving our orcas . Support local talent (go see local bands). Paint. Bake my own bread. Learn to play "99 Red Balloons" on my synthesiser. Take pride in the small things. Laugh more. Take myself less seriously. Surf. Drink water...lots of water. Take time to look at the sky/smell a flower/ lie in the grass. Become less of a consumer (go without or find an alternative). Love and appreciate the people in my life and make sure they know it. Do something I know I will fail at (get over my fear of failing). Get 8 hrs of sleep. Take mini-holidays on weekends. Frame some photos (everything is in digital form). Become more thrifty. Get live plants for my home. Read/absorb my Bible. BE WHERE I AM.

Just Be

2009-01-02T11:11:00.000-08:00

I used to be big on the New Year's resolutions, but this year I made some post-trip goals. Being outside in the sunshine on the beaches of Varadero a couple weeks ago gave me time to think about my life. The most recurring thought was that I wanted to live more in the moment.

I am a future junkie. I am always living in the future. Mentally I am always focused on tonight, tomorrow, the coming weekend, next year, the moment Scotty and I are both done school... at times I am *SO* focused on the future that I miss out on the day I am in. Sometimes I can hardly wait to be in the future, only to arrive there and be focused on the NEXT thing.

Last week as my mom and I wandered around in the gift shop on the ferry, I picked up a book of quotes and flipped to one that really spoke to me:

As you walk and eat and travel, be where you are.
Otherwise you will miss most of your life.
-Buddha

The Sweet Escape

2008-12-26T10:08:00.000-08:00

I've been MIA.

Mainly because I've been feeling dead tired. I realized that the last time I actually took time off work was in February to go to Seattle.

There was a week taken off in July to work at Pemberton Music Fest with Ang and Domi followed by helping Farrah run a kid's camp in Whistler- while both were fun they were hardly a "break."

Standing on the other side of my holiday I realize just how tired I was. Thank God for sun, sand and turquoise seas to recharge the soul.

You know that feeling when you wake up after suffering the worst migraine or flu... that first day that you feel better?

That's how I feel.

My Ever Changing Blog

2008-11-24T16:51:00.000-08:00

As the layers of the onion are peeled back, new insights are revealed.

First: I am a screw up...

...and by the grace of God, my weakness and inconsistencies don't have to define me. I can readily admit that others DO seem to do a better job of loving people- their actions speak SO loudly.

Second: So what?

Does that mean I shouldn't try?

It can be very intimidating when trying to make a positive change. Aside from the effort and personal challenge it poses, there is always the threat of hypocrisy.

Take making the choice to become a vegetarian, for instance. Sure, there is the initial discomfort of trying to figure out what to eat, and I can admit that some things (like junkfood meats: chicken nuggets, salami, bacon) smell SO good, but what is more unsettling is where does one stop? What about leather, dairy, eggs, seafood? It's a contradiction to be a vegetarian who wears leather and drinks milk from huge milk farms with exactly the same conditions as feed-lots.

...And so the well-meaning vegetarian is either criticized for being a hypocrite or they're sent running for the hills.

Third:It's a journey

Any choice to live more ethically is AMAZING. Period. I hate how positive action is cheapened by all the things you're "not doing"

If it was really that easy to have no inconsistencies then we'd all be saints.

...and while it is tempting to point a finger and say "while at least I don't ---" what does that achieve?

The well-meaning vegetarian is not choosing to be a vegetarian for all those angry meat eaters who are so bothered that they don't eat meat: well-meaning vegetarian is doing it for the environment and/or the animals.

I take renewed comfort in Mother Teresa's quote: "We can do no great things, only small things with great love."

I don't care if you're a vegetarian who wears leather or a meat eater who refuses to have dairy- what matters is that you're trying: you're putting one foot in front of the other...

It's On

2008-11-24T09:52:00.000-08:00

They're going on tour!!!

I'd better start collecting pop cans so I can go! I nearly hyperventilated at Gwen's concert June '07... I plan on completely passing out at the No Doubt concert.

Merry Mix*mas

2008-11-22T20:00:00.000-08:00

Christmas is just over one month away. I plan on getting into my decorations tomorrow, but before I deck any halls, I need music.

I've spent the better half of the afternoon rearranging my itunes library so that I have Christmas music for every mood. I downloaded Sufjan Stevens' Christmas album for something a little different.

This year I plan on doing Christmas a little differently. I plan to try really hard not to get sucked into all the consumerism and excess that often characterizes our North American holiday.

I know that it will be easier said than done as my love languages are quality time and gifts, but I have been feeling that Christmas has gotten a little out of hand over these past few years. Besides, whether I like it or not, it'll be a hard-candy Christmas with Scotty's return to school... so I might as well embrace it.

And who says rockin' around the Christmas tree (click here) is for the rich?

Creativity and dressing like a pirate aside…

2008-11-22T11:33:00.000-08:00

...there are other bonuses to upcyling. One of them being that it’s one of those hobbies that SAVES you money (hmmm… more money in my pocket AND entertainment? … Dang).

I’ve saved a lot of money, which is good because we have less than we’ve ever had (I've chosen to embrace the "going-without" lifestyle, I believe it tends to make the good things in life that much sweeter). I have done a lot of mending too. Normally I would’ve just tossed inexpensive items, and replaced them, but instead, I have got good mileage out of my sewing kit.

Mending ain’t so bad if you can do it with your favourite movie on in the background.

Recently, it came to my attention that I am actually wearing-out some of my clothes. I have this cream racer-back tank top that I love, and I’ve worn it a ton of times as a camisole. The seams just started to go because it has been washed so much. In the past I would’ve just tossed it. I think it was $8 brand new, and would’ve only cost $15 to replace; however, I am not allowed to buy “new.” So I was forced to mend it. It saved me $15 bucks and took 20 mins from start to finish. I realize that those simple mending jobs all tallied up have saved me a nice little stash of cash over these past 9 mos.

And that’s just money saved on replacing what you had. Most people shop to find new looks, or to update what they already have. Even if I find great deals, I never walk out of a mall with less than $50 worth of goods. Say I only hit the mall once a month- even so, I have saved $450 on the new stuff.

I have, however, been shopping. I have hit Value village a total of 3 times, and each time I have come out with an oversized bag-full of clothes to the tune of $60 a pop.

So I have spent $180 on clothes rather than $450 (and that doesn't include all the meding I've done).

And lets just say… even though I am a bargain hunter at heart, I definately spent more than $50 a month on clothes.

Oh Beppi

2008-11-21T11:48:00.000-08:00

“Tough Times Cheap Wines”- Beppi Crosariol

Beppi has been thinking about building a recession cellar of wines costing $15 or less.

According to Beppi, the place you can get the most bang for your buck is the unoaked (oak meaning that toasty vanilla character) whites (no time in the barrel means savings).

*Leaping Horse Chardonnay. California. $12

“Compltely unoaked, it still manages to deliver the big tropica fruit flavour and buttery opulence of many oaked, warm weather counterparts, but with a fressness that makes a versatile food partner.”

*Jacques & Francois Lurton Les Fumees Blanches Sauvignon Blanc, France. $11

*Rene Barbier Classic White. Northern Spain. $10

*Blue Nun Riesling, 2007. Germany. $10

Be sure to look for Riesling on the lable or you will end up buying “the generic kitchen-sink Blue Nun blend that served as a sweet gateway drink for North American pop drinkers of the 1970’s… this is made from higher quality grapes… it’s not only an eye-opening value, but its off-dry character makes it a nice partner for spicy Thai dishes.”

There are cheap (recession-friendly) reds too.

*Roodenberg. South Africa. $15

“some readers may recall it… At one point, before the apartheid sanctions pulled it from the shelves, it was among the bestselling reds wines in the country… it is a full bodies, round, chunky wine.”

*Zuccardi Fuzion Shiraz Malbec. Argentina. $7.45

“I’ve raved about this before. It is a runaway bestseller in Quebec and Ontairo. And it remains a standout in price-quality ratio.”

*Santa Julia Malbec, 2008. Argentina. $9

This one is from the same winery as the above. Made the Wine Access “Killer Values” list.

*Argento Reserva Malbec. Argentina. $13

Also made the “Killer Values” list.

And the there’s even Bubbly to be recommended by Beppi.

Apparently if you don’t have tins of cash to throw down on a bottle of bubbly, your best bet is to go with something from Spain. “No country produces such consistently balanced, impressively complex sparkling wines.”

*Segura Viudas Brut Reserva. Spain. $14.95

Mother Teresa's Shoes

2008-11-10T08:22:00.000-08:00

On Saturday evening some of my family hopped into my mom's minivan to make the trek out to Abbotsford to hear Shane Claiborne speak.

I was so excited to have my mom, brother and sister-in-law accompany us because Shane Claiborne's example had instilled sense of hope in me that I had never really felt before, and I was thrilled to share that.

Truth is, it's not Shane Claiborne that I am so enamoured with, it's his Jesus.

As I said before, I needed that spiritual smack upside my head that Shane's words gave me two years ago and he didn't dissappoint.

Luckily I brought my notebook.

While he spoke, I scribbled down points I wanted to think further on, to mull over, pray through and try to apply to my own life.

There were a few moments that I had to swallow hard. Partly because I felt so convicted, that looking at my own life and choices objectively leaves so many loose ends, so much unfinished, and much of my life falling so short of what God desires of me. The other part of me had to stop from breaking down because I caught glimpses of this God that I take for granted. This God that changes people so drastically if they are only willing to submit to Him. This God that loves me despite all my messiness, and more importantly, can use me even though I often feel so hugely inadequate.

One story that hit me like a ton of brick was from some of the time Shane spent in Calcutta working alonside Mother Teresa.

When entering the church to worship, it was customary for everyone to remove their shoes, and it was during these times that Shane noticed that Mother Teresa's feet were very deformed. So deformed, in fact, that Shane thought that it was perhaps due to leprosy.

He didn't dare ask.

One day, while talking to one of the other sisters, the subject came up. The sister asked if Shane had noticed Mother Teresa's feet. She went on to tell him that they get donations of shoes only once and a while, and there are only just enough for each person to get one pair. When the shipments come in, mother Teresa would sort through all the shoes. She would look for the worst for wear pair, and then she would claim them for herself.

Mother Teresa never wanted anyone to wear a pair of shoes that were in worse shape than her own.

It gives new light to being the hands and feet of Jesus.

As I sat listening to that story, much of my life began to swirl in my head.

I've never let her Jesus go that deep into my life. I make selfish choices all the time, and what's worse is that I rarely even realize I am doing it.

While I left feeling as though I fall so short...

...But I also left knowing that my God can use even me.

Upcycling

2008-11-07T11:59:00.000-08:00

Until today, I didn’t realize that I have been part of a movement for the past 8 months.

It’s the refashion movement, or upcycling.

Back in February, I finally gave in to my heart and gave up purchasing new clothing for the period of one year.

I have bought the odd hat or pair of earrings- oh, and I did buy a new pair of workout tights because I do the gym thing a running thing quite a bit and couldn’t survive on my one pair (and those are of a rather “intimate” nature in my opinion), but I haven’t bought a stitch of new clothing other than that.

I’ve forgone shoes, shirts, dresses, jeans and purses.

New ones, that is.

I have found many “treasures” a the thrift shop and in my own closet that, with a few alterations, make for truly killer “worn agains.” I love that it tests and develops my creativity. My closet is beginning to look less “commercial”- which reflects my preferences elsewhere (none of my dishes match, and my home décor is eclectic), and I have not had as much fun with my clothes since the days of MC Hammer pants and slouch socks (the other day I dressed like a pirate- not in a costume, just the combo of my clothes made me think of a pirate… I thought it was hilarious. Who doesn’t have a good day when they’re dressed like a pirate?).

Nicola Prested, an Australian “refashionista,” created the Wardrobe Refashion Pledge:

I pledge that I shall refashion, renovate, recycle preloved items for myself for the term of my contract [abstain from the purchase of ‘new’ manufactured items of clothing, for the period of 2/4/6 months], I pledge that I shall create and craft items of clothing for myself with my own hands in fabric, yarn or other medium for the term of my contract.

Apparently her Nikki Shell website has a huge following. Her collaborative blog and flickr group have gained 1000 devout refashinistas around the globe.

At this month’s fashion week in Paris, big-name designer Vivienne Westwood had advice for people who enjoy fashion but lack the funds, DO IT YOURSELF. Even the design world is seeing a trend in “upcycling” in which discards are made into high-end fashion. And even more in the refashionista’s favour is the fact that top designers are favouring frayed edges and obvious stitching over laborious French seams and perfect structure.

Aside from the opportunity to be creative and have fun with your clothes- upcycling is also the eco-friendly choice as the most earth-friendly clothing/materials are those that already exist.

I'm Melting

2008-11-04T19:24:00.000-08:00

I've noticed my friend Andrew's status on facebook praising Ray LaMontagne's latest album.

Being a little bored with my IPOD library, I went with his suggestion and bought his album, "Gossip in the Grain"

I listened to it three times this afternoon.

"Let it be Me" brought tears to my eyes each time, and his voice makes me melt. I have heard a couple of his songs off the Grey's Anatomy and the "Last Kiss" soundtracks, but an entire album of him is sweet toffee.

I am in love.

Fire Starter

2008-11-03T12:05:00.000-08:00

This weekend was weird.

It was such a mix of highs and lows. Some moments were so fun and exciting and others made me break down in tears.

I came out of it last night feeing as if I had been in a cloud.

It is in those "lows" that there is great opportunity for growth, for change, an opportunity to re-assess. On Saturday I had an epiphany moment.

I won't go into detail, but on Saturday night as I tried to talk something through to Scotty, using him as a sound-board for something upsetting that had just happened, my voice started to quiver, and I broke into tears.

As I sat and felt sorry for myself- I was faced with a choice: I could play the victim, and spend the rest of the weekend moping around, or I could choose to act on the things I have control over and let go of those things I don't.

In that moment, I chose the latter.

I took a deep breath, and in my head I assessed what I needed to "shake off" and let be.

So often are the times where someone's words crush a spirit. There's a reason why the tongue is called a sword. It has the capacity to do great damage.

Something was said that totally crushed me...

...until I decided to use them to my advantage.

I chose to gleen what good I could from them. I decided that there are things I DO need to change... and that painful conversation could be used to ignite that.

I used it as a fire-starter, and threw the rest away.

I chose to not be the victim.

And thanks to you, there's a fire burning- what may have been intended to cut (or may not have... of that I am not certain, and don't really care) has opened a door. It has forced me from my comfort, and has pushed me to grow.

I WANT CANDY

2008-11-02T14:30:00.001-08:00

Happy Day of the Dead.

2008-11-02T11:47:00.000-08:00

Or el Dia de los Muertos.

Have some Mexican food this weekend in honour of the Spanish holiday celebrating deceased loved ones.

On November 1 and 2nd, the streets in Mexico and Brazil become crowded with people carrying baskets stuffed with chocolate skulls, orange-anise buns complete with cross-bones on top and tequila. People carry garlands and wreaths made of marigolds to place on alters that line the sidewalks.

Picnic blankets are spread out in the cemetaries, as people feast on the favourite foods of those who have passed on. Tequila shots are lined up on tombstones and friends and family listen to music and celebrate in honour of the dead.

To be honest, I wouldn't mind gathering together with friends and family and spending the weekend remembering people in my own life (my grandma, grandpa and uncle) who have passed on- listening to their favourite music, remembering them and celebrating their lives.

HAPPY HALLOWEEN.

2008-10-31T09:23:00.000-07:00

I love Halloween. I always have.

I thouroughly enjoy the "commercial" aspects of it. I love the traditions that bring me back to my childhood. I love the smell of wet pumpkin as I try to carve it into a masterpiece.

For a few years I felt completely jipped.

Adult Halloween didn't seem to have much to offer.

I'm not a club girl- never have been. I'll do it for a friend's b-day or a stagette, but that's it. I am not interested in dressing in lingerie, paying four times the regular cover charge and dancing with strangers who feel that it's their divine right to grab me... no thanks.

One year, however, I did go downtown with my bubbs and my oldest brother, Scott, to people watch. It was incredibly funny. I have never seen so many bare bums before- especially when it's so cold out.

I'm not much of a partier either. It seems that any Halloween parties that I have been to have fallen way below my expectations. Probably because my expectations are so high. I remember the days that I would rush home from school to touch-up my costume. I would wait anxiously for darkness to fall so that I could go out, running door to door collecting sweets.

Many of the costume parties I have been to just don't add up.

Some of the costumes are really impressive, but it's obvious that most of the people there are uncomfortable dressing up, and only do so out of obligation. So there sits, and stands, a bunch of adults in their costumes- feeling awkward and uncomfortable.

Not nearly as fun as my days of trick or treating.

Four years ago, my friend, Jac, and I went out on a dare. We swung it so last minute, and thought it'd be hilarious. We expected to hit up a couple houses, get nasty glares and rude comments... maybe even a couple doors slammed in our faces.

But by the fifth house, it seemed that it was more of an inside joke. Not one person seemed to notice or care. In fact, many gave us "big kids" an extra serving of candy, while our "older brothers" (husbands) waited at the end of the driveway for us.

Finally.

Us girls who always looked younger than we were found a bonus: we can STILL trick or treat on halloween!!!

I remember HATING it when people would assume I was years younger than I am. My mom and her friends always said I would like it when I got older, but I wasn't convinced. Especialy when I was 16, and one of my friends always got asked what college she went to... apparently it looked as if I was the kid sister, or she was my youth leader. Or when I worked at the pool, teaching aquafit, the ladies would ask if I was old enough to drive... I was 20 at the time. Or when I worked as a waitress, I often got sideways glances as I corked a bottle of wine. I could tell that people were wondering why the busser was serving the alcohol, and some people actually questioned me on it. I was 22 and married.

When Scotty was a youth pastor, I worried that rumours might start after someone saw him kissing a "16-year old girl" in the parking lot. Thankfully that never happened.

On wednesday I met up with one of my old youth girls. She's in grade 9, but she looks older than she is. We were standing beside the football field after practice. She was waiting for her boyfriend, and I was waiting for my husband. We got talking to one of the guys, and he kept trying to figure out who I was. I gave him my first name, and he
looked confused. He then asked my last name as if he was trying to place me as one of the students at his school. Even after I said Martens- it didn't click, so I told him I was the coach's wife.

The look on his face was priceless. I laughed and acknowledged that, yes, I look much younger than I am.

And that is why I still get to go trick-or-treating... this will be our 4th year in a row! I've got pumpkin-coconut soup with cheese dumplings ready to be heated when I get off work tonight. We'll be getting ready at my house, and then we'll leave the guys to hand out candy while we run around in the dark for a few hours, laughing until it hurts, collecting a big bag of sugary treats, and waiting for the day that we get doors slammed in our faces because we're "too old to trick or treat."

Until then, we'll keep doing it because adult Halloween ain't got nothin' on my trick-or-treating.

(devil-cat panda, and pumpkin-head hanzel... don't they look thrilled?)

J’taime le Vino

2008-10-29T12:38:00.000-07:00

Okay, so my French is likely to be way off, but I don’t care. I hated my grade eleven French teacher, so mock him for being a lousy teacher if you’re gonna mock anyone.

It seems that every Saturday I find a section in my Globe and Mail on wine, and because of the current financial crisis- these articles are tailored to finding good, cheap wines.

I am so sick of writing down names of bottles I would like to try only to have them vanish- so I’m putting them up here whenever I come across them. You’re welcome to try them and report back to me, and perhaps, suggest some.

“Crowd Pleasing Reds at Reasonable Prices”… according to Beppi Crosariol.

Who wouldn’t want to listen to wine advise from a guy named Beppi?

*Red Knot Shiraz, 2006. Austrailia. $21.99

This one features a ZORK!!! I had no clue what that meant until I read the article. In Beppi’s words “it’s a bulbous [yum… words like ‘bulbous’ should be juxtaposed more to food and drink] turban-like top on the bottle that peels off in a circular manner.” Now you can impress your friends with that little piece of knowledge… if they’ll believe you and not just think you made up the word “zork.”

“Red knot is full-bodied and teeming with black fruits, enlivened by notes of black pepper, chili powder, cigar tobacco and herbs”

[sidenote: cigar tobacco??? I once saw a wine discription list pencil lead… hahaha. Just another reason to love it!]

*Lourens River Valley Morgenster [merlot], 2003. South Africa. $21.95

“Dominated by concentrated currant, spice and tobacco, and a bit of that smoky, love-it-or-leave-it quality of cap reds. Consider decanting it before serving. It should match nicely with roast lamb.”

*Beringer Founders’ Estate Merlot, 2005. California. $19.99

“You have to be impressed with the precision engineering in this wine, which is far better than many $20 competing big brands. The fruit is intense with almost-sweet cherry and plum, the texture is smooth as ready-to-drink merlot ought to be, with good acidity and just the right amount of vanilla and other oak-bourne influences.”

*Sumac Ridge Black Sage Vineyard Merlot, 2006. British Columbia. $20

“Decant the wine before serving if you can; it’s still youthful and tightly wound, exhibiting notes of black olive, new leather, plum, cherry and coffee.”

*Inniskillin Okanagan Merlot Reserve, 2005. $17.99

“There’s no mistaking the New World sunshine in this rich BC red, showing intense raspberry flavour and spicy oak”

*Quinta de Crasto Flor de Crasto, 2006. Portugal. $14.49

“One of the great things about portugese wines is that most people, including wine aficionados, know nothing about them. Portugal also delivers great value. These two considerations make it possible to skimp on price, deliver big flavour and nobody’s the wiser- the perfect wine equation… a medium full-bodied red… the texture is almost chewy, with delicious notes of cherry, plum, black pepper and wood.”

The Strategic Vote

2008-10-27T08:43:00.000-07:00

I’m 25. I didn’t grow up in a home that spoke a lot about politics (although my mom and brother now go way over my head in their discussions). I don’t know a lot about each party’s platforms. I also don’t know a lot about their histories, and I can’t always imagine the benefits and consequences of what their platforms promise.

I do know that I lean left, more to the left than Liberal (as I recently found out
that the current Liberals actually see fairly eye-to-eye with the Conservatives on keeping our troops in Afghanistan until 2011). I know that my concerns about the environment rate at the top of my list, along with social issues and foreign policy.
I have to say that I was impressed with parts of every left-leaning platform and didn’t feel quite as partisan as I would have predicted (although Elizabeth May as PM would have been a sight to see, and likely would have garnered a lot more interest in politics among young voters and much higher sales in tricycles). All I knew is that I didn’t want Harper getting his majority and I wasn’t alone. There was quite an anti-Harper movement already in the works.

For those of you who don’t know much about politics, I beg you to at least review what Right wing vs Left wing means (knowing that not all right wing and left wing parties stick to their corresponding policy). Canada’s multi-party electoral system has only one right of center party, the Conservatives, but we have 3 Left wing parties (Bloc Quebecois is a whole ‘nother story). Liberals are left of center, NPD further left and Green very left. That means that the left vote is always split, while the right isn’t.

…Hence, the anti-Harper movement.

Tories benefit from having the left vote split into three, so websites such as www.voteforenvironment.com were designed according to the lastest polling information about each riding across Canada so that people could know which party to vote for to overcome the potential for the 3-way split to benefit the Tories.

I went to it on election day morning and typed in my postal code. One second later it came back with, “you live in a Conservative stronghold. Do what you can for the environment.”

Can’t say I didn’t feel defeated as I walked to the polls that afternoon. I wished that I lived in the Delta-Newton riding where the race was close, and my vote wouldn’t feel so voiceless.

Thanks to the Bloc Quebecois, Harper didn’t get his majority… phewf!

Point is, you don't have to spend tons of time researching each political party to make an educated vote (although knowledge IS power, and people know far too much about "Brangelina" and not enough about the stuff that is actually affecting our lives). Voting for the environment is admirable because where is is currently headed is truly terrifying, so if you don't have "time" to do the work prior to an election- websites such as this are an extremely useful tool.

Where Were We?

2008-10-23T10:38:00.000-07:00

This election saw its lowest numbers of voter turnout ever… 59%.

Back in the 60’s voter turnout was somewhere close to 80%, and you know what? People who were around in the 60’s are still showing up to vote. The age cohort with the greatest voter turnout is the 50+ group. That translates to campaigns aimed at this age-group.

Which came first the chicken or the egg? Do we wait until we’re old enough to finally be interested in pension-plan politics, or do we get off our facebook and start using our voices?

Many young people don’t vote. Approximately only 38% of young people ages 18-24 actually showed up at the 2006 polls (and I’m sure that number is down in this most recent election). When polled for why they don’t vote, most said that they didn’t know enough, followed by those who said that they didn’t have time, and lastly, they simply didn’t care.

We make up the cohort with the WORST voter turnout, and that translates to not only having a nearly silent voice in the happenings of our country, but it also means that our needs and interests will never be catered to. Political platforms won’t speak to our interests, passions or concerns until we become a force to be reckoned with. Rick Mercer of the Mercer Report said that if most university students simply showed up on election day to vote, the entire political system would be changed because politicians would no longer be able to ignore our interests.

The Carbon Tax proposal of the Liberal platform was extremely unpopular, and many suggest that it (along with voter distaste for Dion) cost the Liberals big time. But the truth is that environmental advocacy groups support the carbon tax plan as one of the best ways to hit the issue of global warming head-on. Most environmental economists say that the only way to really address greenhouse gas is to put a price on carbon emissions. I believe that the coming generation actually cares about our environment more than previous generations. My mom says that our generation is paying for the “sins” of her generation (be it politically and environmentally). She feels that we’ll do things so differently than hers… I really hope so.

Both Green Peace and Sierra Club issued statements urging Canadians to “vote for any party but the conservatives” because the Tories were the only party who lacked any real environmental solution to greenhouse gas emissons (in fact, the Tory’s action plan is deemed by environmental experts as tepid, at very best, and the environment will only continue to get a lot worse under such regulation).

As I sat in a room election night, hugely outnumbered by Conservative supporters, I couldn’t help but wonder what the polls would reveal had we actually showed up. I dare to think that the outcome would be quite different, and perhaps I would’ve been spared listening to all the poorly constructed left-wing jokes while I sat blushing and biting my tongue.

Pumpkin Patch

2008-10-22T12:24:00.000-07:00

Despite our best efforts, the bunnies destroyed most of our efforts at a vegetable garden this summer. They ate all the shoots before they ever had a chance, but they DID leave us the summer squash (which were delicious) and the sweet pumpkins.

This year yeilded 16 sweet pumpkins (they are small with thick, sweet flesh for cooking and baking).

Three of our neices spent the night at Grandma and Grandpa's last weekend, so we invited them over to pick pumpkins.

Apparently our back yard is a blast. Our little Himalayan lop, Pancake, was quite the hit. The girls picked apples from the apple tree to feed to her. Our Holland lop, Coconut, wasn't interested in the kids- he prefered to stay out of reach, but even he, seemed to enjoy the sunshiine as he bounced around the yard.

What’s wrong with this picture?

2008-10-22T10:06:00.000-07:00

The Greens got 7% of the popular vote while the Bloc got 10%. The Greens got more votes this election than in the past, yet they lost their one seat (won in the 2006 election). The Greens have no seats, yet the Bloc, who got only 3% more votes, won 49 seats. They even beat out the NDP who won 37 seats and got 18% of the popular vote...

...what?

A long standing critism of Canada’s electoral system has been that its inner workings were designed for a time when only two parties were running.

An editorial written in Thursday, October 16th Globe and Mail by Ed Broadbent (President of Rights and Democracy) really gets at the issue of proportional representation.

Most European democracies have successful systems of proportional representation. He said that a system such as those in Gremany, New Zealnd and Wales would work well in Canada and would make our Parliaments both more representative and more stable.
Broadbent points out that if our seats represented the proportion of actual votes, the Liberals, New Democrats and the Greens would have a majority of seats (yay!), and if they followed the European pattern, these would combine to form a government with each party having seats in the cabinet and a program that actually reflects how a majority had voted.

“As Canadians know, the Liberals, New Democrats and Greens did agree on a number of economic measures, on social policy, the environment and protection for families in the current economic crisis. Since the majority of Candaians voted for these parties, they, not the Conservatives, should be determining our political agenda…In Canada as a whole, the NDP received a million more votes than the Bloc. Yet the Bloc recieved 50 seats and the NDP only 37… It’s time Canadians got the governments we vote for, not the ones our outmoded electoral system continues to regurgitate. It’s time our neanderthal journalists and politicians started telling the truth about our lack of democracy”- Ed Broadbent.

Amen.

So what’s a person to do? How can it be changed?

Here’s a start:

Sign this petition.

Go to the Fair Vote BC website and join the campaign. We have a provincial election coming up in May 2009. Add them on facebook, and empower yourself though knowledge.

In Response to Last Post

2008-10-17T11:28:00.000-07:00

I lied.

And I'm sorry.

I had said I wouldn't steal pics from Google Images, and I did.

I take back my promise because there are some pictures that I simply will not take.

So I will steal those.

And just to be clear, Google-imaging THAT was my second week's scariest.

I couldn't look directly at it, and now I have to post a bunch so that it don't have to see that on my main page.

Week's Scariest

2008-10-16T21:38:00.000-07:00

I've drafted a couple political posts in response to the recnt election, but they're on my laptop at home (I am at work for another 24 hour shift), so those will have to wait until the weekend.

I would tell you all about my fabulous life as of late, but I try not to do the brag thing (plus my life has involved a lot of school work mixed in with some house work).

Instead, I will tell you about the scariest moment of my week.

I have not adjusted well to the colder weather over these past few weeks, and as a result. I am always cold.

Well, that mixed with the fact that we only turned the heat on in our house last Wednesday... Our house had gotten to an incredibly uncomfortable temp of 12 degrees... yep, it was the same temp as outside.

I really tried to avoid turing the heat on until November. It seems rediculous for us to pay to heat such a huge house when there are only two people living there. But on days that I was home doing school, I had to bundle up in my down vest, uggs and wrap myself up in a blanket, and even then, I still got cold because I was hadley moving.

Made me think about the people who are living on our streets, who also have to endure the wet. Horrible.

I resort to hot baths to warm my blood during the winter months, so on Wednesday afternoon I headed upstairs with some school reading to go over while I soaked.

I pushed bak the shower cutain only to find a long-legged spider scrambling trying to get out.

My cats are my salvation when it comes to spiders. I guess it invokes the "mouser" in them. The challenge is for me to stay calm enough to call them to my aid in an appealing voice. I usually throw whiska's cat treats beside the spiders to bring them to my cats' attention. Hanzel (he's so hot right now) is my real hero. He has the love of food, and he sees spiders as treats with legs.

On Wednesday I caught my big 18 lb Hanzel in the living room and quickly carried him into my bathroom. As I started to lower him into the tub, he got a wild look in his eyes. I think he thought I was trying to drown him (even though there was no water in the tub... I didn't say Hanzel was smart). I swallowed my fear of the eight-legs below and sang a little lullaby to him as I lowered him down into the tub.

As soon as his feet hit the yellow ceramic (yep... we got sweet 70's tub/toilet/sink combos in 2 of our bathrooms) that nasty thing ran straight for him, trying to climb up his leg.

I had to move back against the sink to stop from screaming, but I couldn't leave the room because I had to make sure that Hanzel took care of it.

There was some shuffling for a few minutes, then Hanzel hopped up on the edge of the tub. I moved closer to make sure it was gone.

I let my guard down.

As I crouched over the tub, Hanzel inches from my face, I noticed some thing black and leggy squirming from his mouth.

The damn thing was still alive!

Hanzel was just carrying it out of the tub.

I shot back, using all my inner strength to stay calm because I knew that if I starled my cat, he'd drop the spider and run.

He hopped onto the floor and dropped the thing near my feet. It proceeded to narrow the gap between us.

I shot up on my counter as Hanzel played with it. I'm not ashamed to say that I quietly whimpered.

After what seemed like forever, he finally ate it and left.

I stayed couched in my bathroom sink for a few extra minutes- I had survived another terrifying moment...

...barely.

(and Ashley, the time was 2:41)

Twilight.

2008-10-10T10:32:00.000-07:00

The books that have been eating up all my free time over the past month and a half are coming to the big screen later this fall, well, the first book at least.

I'm really hoping it's not cheesy because the books are SO good!

What Are You Doing November 8th?

2008-10-09T21:42:00.000-07:00

My life was changed a few years ago.

I dove head first into a job/world that I had little-to-no experience in and it intimidated the hell out of me.

My mom and others worried a little for my safety. I worried for my safety.

Just over one month into the job, I fell asleep in the livingroom watching a movie- I woke up at 3am to the TV glowing blue and a young man walking around the livingroom in his boxers.

I watched him walk down the hallway and into one of the girls' rooms.

The next morning I recieved notification from our resource worker that the guy I had seen was extremely dangerous- he had numerous sexual assult charges against him, he was homeless and drug addicted and had a history of being violent... before she hung up the phone with me, she said "so please be careful."

Great.

That afteroon, I left work and went straight to the church to drive a carful of yout leaders to Kelowna for a weekend retreat, the RUSH YOUTH CONFERENCE.

I was prettty shaken up, and was ready to wave the white flag. I wasn't cut out for this job. I couldn't put myself in that situation ever again. By the time we reached Kelowna, I had mentally checked out of my new job. After the weekend I would call my boss and tell him I couldn't do it.

Later that night, at the first session, a crazy looking white guy with thick-rimmed glasses, dreadlocks and potato sack clothes started to speak in his heavy southern accent.

He had worked with Mother Teresa in Calcutta, he had been arrested in peaceful protests against his city's efforts to outlaw being homeless, he travelled to Baghdad on a Christian peackeeping mission and his convoy was bombed, his friend nearly lost his life had it not been for the locals who had set up a makeshift hospital for them, he lived amongst lepers who taught him how to sew his own clothes so that he never had to wear clothing made by a child again, he "settled down" in the slums in Philidelphia and set up "The Simple Way" .

Did I menion he was only a handful of years older than me?

As he spoke, all my convienient barriers started to crumble. While I know so many lines to give as to why I am not doing more for the "least of these," I was finally confronted on them. While he spoke I could feel my loving Heavenly Father smacking me upside the head.

HE wanted me there. He wanted me to stop worrying and rely on Him.

On Monday I would go back to the job I felt so ill-equipped for. I would bathe my life in prayer rather than anxiety, and I would be obedient. I would stay as long as He wanted me to.

I'm coming up on 2 years, and I don't feel a release coming anytime soon.

This guy who's words changed my life wasn't Shane Claiborne- His name was Jesus.

Shane has simply submitted to Him- he has comitted to being His Hands and His feet in this pain-filled world.

I saw Jesus standing before me- I heard His words as Shane opened his mouth...

...and my life was changed.

On November 8th at 6pm Shane Claiborne will be in Abbotsford at Northview Community Church Worship Center. He'll also be giving the same message on the 9th at the 9am and 11am service. I'm gonna be there Saturday night...

Ready and waiting for the smack upside my head. You should be there too.

Beautiful Ordinary

2008-10-09T21:38:00.000-07:00

Facebook and I have a love/hate relationship.

I love how I can keep in touch with people that I don’t see often, and I can stay in the loop even when my work and school schedule don’t allow for me to be as social as I might like.

I dislike the “brag-book” aspect of it. It never fails, every time I go on, it is inevitable, someone is always on or about to go on a great trip, buying a house or a car, getting a three day weekend, getting married etc. while I am just doing the regular grind.

Seeing all the excitement and action in everybody else’s lives can leave a bad taste in my own mouth. It can be hazardous to the health to compare my life to someone else’s when there is nothing new or exciting on the horizon.

It is amazing how one can be fine with their own life until they hear about the exciting stuff going on in other people’s lives.

Truth is, trips end, down-payments turn into mortgages and monthly car payments, three day weekends give way to a five day work/school week, weddings become memories captured on film. The real test is being happy in the daily grind, finding adventure, contentment and inspiration in the day-to-day. It doesn’t always take a change of scenery, extra days off, or big bucks to enjoy life, but rather it involves making the most of what you’ve got… and choosing to appreciate it.

With that in mind, I took a “me-day” recently. I didn’t do anything exciting, but I set out with the goal of enjoying simplicity. My day started with a cup of coffee and a newspaper, and then a run in the rain. It’s amazing how much better a run can be when you change up your playlist, take a different route or make an effort to enjoy the scenery. A simple shower can be a whole lot better when you sing. A commute can be more exciting if you treat that CD as a music soundtrack to your life, and stealing glances at your surroundings while you drive can reveal beauty that you may not have ever noticed in your rush to and from work. Errands can be made brighter by actually speaking with the cashier at the grocery store.

On my “me-day,” after my shower, I grabbed by favourite dress to do some errands (rather than the obligatory yoga pants and sweatshirt). Funny thing: a dress is just as easy, if not easier, to throw on as frump clothes, but it adds a little skip to your step even when doing the mundane. I hopped in my car, cranked “Sam’s Town” by The Killers and put a few drops of Pumpkin Nectarine oil in my car diffuser to give my car an autumnal scent. I made an effort to enjoy my surroundings on my drive into Richmond, and I smiled at the orange pumpkin fields as I waited at the lights. In Kerrisdale Cameras while picking up a case and some rechargeable batteries, I struck up a conversation with the salesman and he ended up teaching me a couple simple tricks to take better photos. I made a dash into the mall to pick up some gifts… buying for others really is so much more enjoyable than buying for myself. I didn’t feel like a martyr as I passed through clothing stores, knowing that I still have 4 more months left on my “No New Clothes For a Year” commitment, because I chose to be happy with what I have. While all the clothes in the mall may be off limits for me- I also reminded myself that save a lot of money by only going thrift or sewing it myself (let alone knowing that I am not supporting companies who capitalize on people in 3rd world countries by underpaying them and subjecting them to horrible working conditions), and the creative side of me likes that there isn’t a dozen identical dresses hanging on the rack in the stores I shop in. I left the mall with gifts for other people and a DVD for myself. When I got home I made myself popcorn and a strawberry margarita and snuggled into my big yellow couch (also purchased from a thrift store a few years ago) as I watched my newly purchased copy of “Sex and the City: The Movie.”

The evening that followed involved landry, making dinner, school work and cleaning the litter box, but those long weekends and exciting trips were the furthest thing from my mind.

Chubby Bunny

2008-10-02T23:37:00.000-07:00

I put down a lot of money on a camera (for me at least... it's nothing in the camera big-leagues), and I am set on using it.

Today I photographed a squirmy 2 month old.

Now that I look back, the little doll took the 3+ hour photoshoot like a pro.

I tend to get a little carried away when I am in a creative state, luckily the bouncing baby girl is as easy-going as her mother (who remained a good sport even when her diaperless daughter peed all down mom's front- soaking both her sweater and her jeans).

I tell yah, I have new-found respect for baby photographers, as they wiggle just about every second, and, well, there's the risks one takes when doing nudie shots (which I didn't even THINK of).

Goal Achieved

2008-10-01T20:29:00.000-07:00

Thanks to Stephenie Meyer, I made good on my “1 book a month” goal for 2008 about two books ago. I am now on my 14th book of the year. For a non-reader like me, that is incredible!

I am now part way into the 4th book of the “Twilight” series.

Technically they’re young adult/teen books, but Harry Potter may have been more widely read by adults than juvies.

If the idea of reading about Vampires and Werewolves has you feeling skiddish, don't worry, they lack the gore and spiritual stuff that usually makes me wary of such books.

It’s nice to know that once I finish the fourth book, I won’t be left hanging: Stephenie has written her first adult book called “The Host” which I was eyeing in Chapters the other day.

No more Stealin'

2008-09-30T20:41:00.000-07:00

Now that I have my fancy new camera... I am going to try my darnest to only use my own photos- I am going to quit jackin' them from Google images.

A Prayer for Tears

2008-09-30T20:17:00.000-07:00

As I was running, I had a thought:

Of all the tears that fall down my face, I pray that my tears for others far out-number the tears for myself.

The world will always have heartache, but I pray that I never become blind to other people’s pain.

Broken.

2008-09-27T16:48:00.000-07:00

Yesterday the job got to me.

After working a 24 hour shift, I called Scotty on my drive home to see what he was up to. Little did I know, I would barely be able to choke out a few sentences before breaking into full sobs.

Last time it happened I was on my way to my nieces 5th and 7th birthday’s last August. I was just finishing up my shift and one of the girls was in a real sour mood. Before I headed down to the office to do shift change-over, I said goodbye to her. She was sitting on the floor painting her toenails. She didn’t even look up at me and only mumbled something, so I walked over to where she was brooding and I placed my hand on the top of her head. I turned her face upwards, looked her in the eyes and said goodbye again (I always want the girls to know that I care, and that no bad attitude is going to change that).

In that moment, it hit me like a ton of bricks: I was staring into the eyes of a child.

It can be very difficult to see these kids as their actual ages because they’ve been through so much, and many of them live so hard (mainly as a result of what they’ve been through).

I managed to get through my debrief with the next staff, but as soon as my keys turned in the ignition, the tears started to pour down my face.

16 years old. She had lived on the street in Toronto with her grandmother as a small child. She doesn’t know mom (she believes she lives somewhere in the downtown eastside). Dad has a mental illness. She’d been forced into “recruiting” (putting other girls into the sex trade), and dealt with a lot of guilt over that. Two years ago her friend (whom she recruited) was picked up by a trucker and his son… her body was found three days later. She had been drugged and then raped at a party, and a month later a pregnancy test revealed that she was carrying a baby. She tried so hard to “clean up” so that she could keep it, but she had been struggling with alcoholism for a few years, and it got the better of her. It seemed like this poor kid had been kicked down before she had ever learned to walk, and the blows just kept coming.

My sister, Tracey, found me on her doorstep in a puddle of tears. I had to sit on my nieces bunkbeds for 40 mins before I could gain control over my emotions.

Last night. I huge sense of desperation came over me. As much as I want to solve their problems, I can’t. A lot of the time I feel like little more than a witness to their hell. I can be fairly good at “turning off” and just trusting God, but then it happens… I fall in love.

Scotty handles it like a pro. He doesn’t offer any advice or verbal encouragement except an “I love you” whispered into my ear as he hugs me. He lets me cry, and knows that there is nothing to say. So many of life’s problems and pains cannot be reduced to words.

Sometimes it is hard to trust, but I am comforted by the fact that God will be there alongside them long after they move out, that His heart has broken for them before mine ever did, and he won’t give up on them. My love for these girls is but a glimpse of His and my role in their lives will be that too.

I don’t have the answers. I can’t see the bigger picture. I am just as confused and frusterated by the inequalities in life as anyone else, but the tears dried last night as they always have in the past… and I take comfort in living it one day at a time.

$57

2008-09-22T17:54:00.000-07:00

My "old" self would be confused.

"But you hate politics..." it would say.

Today I spent $57 on a 3 month subscription to the "Globe and Mail"

Starting Wednesday, it will be dropped off at my door, and on days that I don't go to work, I will spend the early morning struggling to make sense of all the political editorials (and perhaps recognize the bias). According to my political science course, the "Globe and Mail" is the least partisan of all readily available media (including tv news) followed by the National Post... I wouldn't know. I had to look up the word partisan.

I am officially in my second week of school, and more importantly, I am taking my second political science course (Canadian Politics). I really don't understand why politics isn't part of grade school (aside form the danger of presenting it along with bias, which would be hugely damaging).

Living in a democratic society means that being politically active is one of the most important things a person can do, but what if we have no clue what the issues are and how the system works?

I am on a journey: to become more politically aware.

Hopefully that awareness will give birth to political action.

Women like Tzeporah Berman help to give me a butt kick in the right direction. She's seriously cool- mainly because she's full of passion. There are so few people in today's society who are truly passionate, and it is passion that will change the world.

I plan to continue to take courses until something sticks and I begin to stay informed on my own (or be "engaged" as Tzeporah would say). Perhaps I will post a little bit here and there of what I am learning, but don't expect it to be non-partisan (I'm learning!)because this it my blog dammit!

She's Only 17.

2008-09-18T22:42:00.000-07:00

After a late night sipping champagne on the beach with some girls that I truly adore(typing that I realize I am an old lady because I was in bed by 12:30), I woke up early, downed a couple mugs of coffee and a steaming bowl of oatmeal and jogged out into the suprisingly warm September morning.

Several minutes later, I could hear the music thumping as I approached the start line.

While crossing through the Thrifty's parking lot, I saw a group of four young teen girls, all wearing bandanas, crowded around the passenger door of a grey car.

As I got closer, my eyes welled with tears.

The fifth girl had only a scant covering of downy hair left on her head as she adjusted her bandana from her wheelchair.

I took a deep breath as I walked on to the registration table.

After filling out a form, I was handed a participant ribbon.

15 minutes until the gun. I pinned the ribbon with a silouette of Terry Fox to my hip and began stretching, trying desperately not to give into the tears that welled up again as I watched people pin dedications to the "In Memory" board.

There were a couple speeches, somewhat inspiring.

Then I caught some movement out of the corner of my eye: a wheelchair moving towards the front of the crowed followed by four others, all with matching bandanas.

Her name is Angie. She loves to sing. Less than a year ago (last December) she was diagnosed with the same kind of Cancer as Terry Fox. Last spring they amputated her leg.

I bit down hard on my tongue as the crowd gave a heartfelt clap... I stared at the crowd, some with forced smiles as if to offer sympathy, others looked extremely uncomfortable-their eyes begging to move on to something, anything, else. Others embarassingly wiped the tears from their eyes.

In any case, a strange feeling fell upon me. I felt as if time was slowed, and I knew that we as a crowd could not have been further away from Angie and her pain. As my eyes passed over my fellow runners- I knew that we would leave this moment no different than we were before "meeting" Angie.

And that bothered me.

As I settled into the race, my mind went back to Angie. While the main race organizer thanked the crowd before sending us off on the course, she spoke of the importance of the Terry Fox foundation, and how it had raised millions for cancer reasearch. She said that while we've come so far, there is still so much that needs to be done, so much that needs to be learned...

My eyes fell on Angie, her tired body heaved as she sobbed unto her hands.

As I neared the first water station, I could feel hot tears streaming down my face. Drinking was much more difficult with the huge lump in my throat.

It was inevitable, I would go home after the race, and in time, I would forget about Angie.

Seeing her body shake as she cried would stop haunting me, and I would fall back into my own little self absorbed world. My legs felt weak as the realization struck: I would feel sorry for myself for the insignificant.

Angie is fighting for her life, and I will go on as I always have.

My mind flooded with questions centering on when we'll be woken up, what would it take to snap us out of our egocentric tendencies beyond the end of the day?

We can have the best intentions, but are we capable of being changed unless it strikes us personally?

I pray for Angie... may she never lose the will to fight.

Sleepless in South Delta

2008-09-16T10:52:00.000-07:00

In a pinch to figure out what to wear?

I wish I could take credit for this... I really do... but I can't.

I was flipping through my Nylon magazine last week. Aside from all the other reasons to love it (less commercial, witty articles that make one laugh out loud, solid music reviews of artists that aren't so mainstream etc.)- there is always a "Do-It Yourself" section that features ways to make things you already have at the back of your closet into something with more edge/style with minimal-to-no sewing.

This month's was mind blowing.

The ghost designer behind the Waldorf clothing line featured on Gossip Girl was in charge of this month's diy.

Take a pillow case, cut whatever neck line you want (be it boat neck, v-neck, off the shoulder, racer-back etc.) in the top- then cut arm holes (tear-drop shape look the coolest... so you should aim to have the arm hole come to a point at the bottom).

VOILA!

You can sew around the raw egdes or leave them to fray.

What is truly brilliant is that you can buy any length of pillow case (and widths differ too if you go for european sized pillows vs standard) AND you can cut it off shorter if you want it to be a cool shirt. I took the hem down after this picture so that I can comfortably wear it as a dress, but at this length it would look amazing over tights or stovepipe jeans.

From DQ to GQ

2008-09-16T10:39:00.000-07:00

There is a section in Men's Health Magazine called the "Belly Off Club." It features regular guys who have gone from couch potato to gym rat.

I was looking at my sister in law's (Tiana) photos this morning, and I really think my brother Thayne should send in a before and after to the magazine.

Apparently getting older AND getting married means getting in the best shape of your life... according to Thayne.

This picture was taken just over a year ago at his wedding.(Not to Scotty... he married the sweetest little button of a girl named Tiana. She's gotten incredibly fit too, and should send in before and after pictures to Women's Health, but at the same time, I think she has always looked incredible)

This was taken this past week.

HAPPY BIRTHDAY ASHLEY

2008-09-16T09:45:00.000-07:00

I Loved to Run.

2008-09-08T15:18:00.000-07:00

Once upon a time, I loved to run.

I ran 5 days a week.

I read about it. I talked about it. I even taught a little on it.

I liked to run from town to town (Ladner to Tsawwassen; or Ladner to White Rock).

I bought powergels, goo, cliff bars and powerbeans.

I liked powerbeans the best.

I enjoyed carbo-loading three days before a race.

I ran a few 8-10 km races. I ran two half marathons, and I cursed at km 17 both times.

I felt good, confident and strong. I decided to face my fear and commit to the full-marathon training schedule.

At first, it went well. I set aside more time for my higher weekly mileage. I made my shuffle playlist longer, and packed more powerbeans. I ran all over town during the day and slept like a log at night. I never got sick, and I wasn’t affected by the decrease in hours of sunlight in the winter.

Once upon a time, I loved to run.

Not rain, snow, ice, wind, humidity or lightening would stop me. I ran in all seasons, in all weather conditions, at all different times of the day. I watched the sky turn blood red two years ago on an October morning- it was so beautiful that tears began streaming down my face. I leap over puddles and skidded on ice. I breathed deeply as I ran past freshly mowed lawns, the ocean, and hayfields that had just been cut in late summer. I ran past bright orange fields, full of pumpkins.

I got bugs in my mouth, my nose and my eyes. I stepped in dog poop. I crossed the street to avoid unfriendly looking farm dogs.

Sometimes I made phone calls on my cell during my walking breaks. Sometimes I had to make pitstops at a friend’s place or a business… to do… um… business. Sometimes I became “one with nature.”

I never felt more alone. I never felt more strength. I never felt more alive.

The jumble of thoughts untangled itself on those runs. Big issues shrank, stress melted and contentment grew.

I existed in that moment. Sometimes I tuned off my shuffle to be serenaded by my breath. To hear my feet rhythmically bounce from the pavement…

One Upon a time, I loved to run.

Then I got a burning feeling on the outside of my left knee. It came out of nowhere, without warning. I limped home and iced it. I rested it for a week, and felt a twinge of jealousy whenever I watched someone ran past my driveway.

I tried to run after waiting a week. I smiled as I settled into my stride. At mile one (practically on the dot) the burning came back. I turned around and limped home. There were tears of frusteration, but the jealousy faded over time.

Now it’s 1.5 years later.

I feel breathless, weak and slow, but there are these moments- these flashes of what it used to be before I felt the burn beside my left knee.

I ran a 10km last month with Stacey. I am doing another this Sunday, and another next month.

I’m hoping that my “Once Upon a time” will be my “Happily Ever After.”

Good read

2008-09-02T20:46:00.000-07:00

My camera instruction manual might be the best read of the year.

My Newyears resolution was to read one book a month for the entire year. To those who are voracious readers, I am sure that sounds pathetic, but to that I ask: how many books did you read while you were working part time and going to school full time?

Truth is, I am one book ahead of my resolution.

One of the great things about not shopping for new clothes is that we’ve got just as much money in the bank even though Scotty has pulled out of the work force and gone back to school (I am now full time and making a bit better of a wage now that I am manager). I have been to Valu-Village 3 times since making my commitment to buying nothing new (in clothing terms). I believe in total I have spent $150 on clothing in 6 months. That is not to say I haven’t bought clothes- I have come out of VV with approximately 10 new items every time (count 30 pieces of clothing), AND I have bought quite a few dishes… but that’s a whole other post.

This combined with the fact that I have been pulling mondo hours at the group home for the month of August has afforded me quite the treat: a new camera.

I love taking pictures, but have only ever had cheap cameras that are incapable to snapping night shots, or moving shots and the zoom as laughable. People have commented on my photos, but I have to give credit where credit is due: when I am taking pictures, I am channeling Angela Haugo. SHE is an incredible photographer. She is the definition of inspiration. I pay close attention to her work, and I am sure is it obvious in comparing my pictures to hers. Ang is the innovator, I am the immitator.
When I went to Pemberton with her, I was eyeing her camera, and Ang being the doll that she is, let me play with it (despite the fact that I had no clue about what I was doing). After only a couple shots, I was sold. It was obvious that a few extra bucks makes a serious difference. Her man, Domi (an accomplished photographer himself) swears by Canon.

A Canon Powershot S5 1S became my obsession. The problem is, it is an elusive camera to track down. After a couple extensive searches for this camera both here and across the boarder (even Bestbuy warehouses where out of stock) proved fruitless. At the peak of frustration, I threw up my hands and (loudly) gave in.

That’s when Scotty showed up at my work a week ago (during an interview… oops) with my new baby, and a 2 GB memory card. I have only gotten half way through the “quickstart” guide and my mind has already been blown- Domi and Ang did not steer me wrong, and for $350 plus tax, I have the most gorgeous camera rather than two pairs of over-priced jeans hanging in my closet.

I LOVE not shopping!

Damaged Art.

2008-09-02T19:51:00.000-07:00

There is a fantastic line in the movie “The Breakup.” In it, Jennifer Aniston (my lovely), works at an art gallery and is speaking with a client about how one goes about picking art. She said, “Never buy a piece of art that you don’t have to have.”

Even though it is a comedy, that line stuck with me. I would love to say that I know stuff about art, but truth is, I know nothing (I am, however taking my SECOND art course for Emily Carr this fall).

My mom and I were wandering around in Home Sense last week. I was clutching a rusty crow (for my fabulous Halloween dinner party that I want to have every year but never get around to having it), and a set of 600 thread count plum-brown sheets (another fall tradition: new sheets) when I came upon a 6 foot black and white photograph of the Eiffel tower taken from below. I just stopped and stared at it.
As cheesy as it may sound, I actually felt emotional looking at it. Not sad, not happy, I can’t really explain it, but I honestly couldn’t turn away from it.

The thing is. If asked, I would have said a photo of the Eiffel tower doesn’t really suit my style (I’m much more of an eclectic flea-market bohemian taste), but standing in front of it, I pictured it on my wall.

I pointed it out to my mom; she pointed out the 16-inch scratch across the top where the dark brown paint gave way to the white canvas. I saw the opportunity for a price reduction; she said “where on EARTH are you going to put that monstrosity?” (oh bless my mom for ALWAYS saying what she means… hahaha), I shrugged and thought, “I’ll put it in my bathroom if I have to because I love it!”

I inquired about the scratch to the lady setting up a bedroom display. Five minutes later the manager said “55 bucks” and I said, “DONE!”

My mom said, “what are you going to do about that scratch? It’ll never look right” and I said, “I dunno, I just love it, and that scratch is what is going to allow me to walk out of here with it because I wouldn’t be able to afford it otherwise.”
Its flaw is the best thing about it.

I ditched the sheets and rusty crow and bought it.

Once I got it home, it inspired a whole wave of redecorating in a room I despised.

My downstairs livingroom is now black, white and red… a Parisian-rocker vibe complete with leopard print, black candles, an antique record player, guitar, pearls and wine coloured drapes (all stuff I already had, but never would have thought to combine it the way the Eiffel tower picture had inspired).

It’s now my favourite room- I am sitting in it right now!

Newyears.

2008-09-02T19:22:00.000-07:00

I am sure that all those years of school has engrained this feeling of newness and possibility that always comes with the beginning of September.

For me, September is my Newyears. I begin to make plans for the coming year, I give myself a little “back to school” makeover, I give my home a few tweaks because I’m sick of the ‘same old” décor, I make new goals (school, fitness, social and hobby), and I shift my music preferences to more thoughtful vocals and bittersweet melodies.
I actually have quite a few traditions, some of which I have already fulfilled. I do these things every year, something about it just feels right.

*I always get blunt bangs. Over the past four years I have let my bangs grow out for the summer (because I refuse to do much styling when I know I’ll end up at the beach or in a pool), but then I begin to crave the fringe as the nights get cooler. Don’t know why, it’s weird, but I love it.

*I buy the September Vogue. I might purchase it one other time in the year, but to be honest, I prefer my “Nylon” magazine (I’ve also begun to enjoy Harper’s Bazaar because I actually read it rather than just look at all the pictures). Somehow the September issue is different (aside from it’s noticibly thicker size)… perhaps it’s just the ads, they help me get into the autumn mindset.

*I watch the SATC episode where Carrie speaks of the time of year that you can feel the seasons “click” from summer to fall… I don’t know what it’s called, but I may watch it after I finish typing this.

*I buy a new blanket: something soft and cozy for the couch. This year it is a burnt orange fleece throw from Costco.

*I hit the Body Shop or Bath and Body Works for autumn scented home fragrance oils. I love that they always come out with new ones every year.

* I buy spicy scented candles for my home. I love Peir 1 candles the best, they cost more, but they actually give off scent as you burn them, and they last forever.

* I buy a couple new outfits. This year, however, I can’t. I am still sworn to my “no new clothes for one year” rule. I can’t believe it’s already been 6 months! ... but that’s a whole other post.

* I rearrange my furniture. This is where I really miss my basement suite- grandma’s place is so huge. I love how simply moving a couch can give a small space an entirely new look. This year I gave every room a bit of a makeover by clearing all the bookshelves and surfaces, mixing it all up and then putting everything away in different rooms. I shuffled stuff around in the kitchen too and it honestly gives it a breath of fresh air. I used to drive my poor mom crazy because I would rearrange my bedroom every two months- I just got sick of looking at the same stuff all the time. From the moment I figured out that I could push my heavy desk around my room by propping myself against something sturdy on the ground and pushing it with my legs, my room was never the same (I think I was about 8 years old). What can I say? Change fuels my creativity.

*Summer is just way too hot to do any real damage in the kitchen, so as the weather cools down, I flip through all my cookbooks and stick post-its on everything I want to try (I remove them as I get around to cooking it)… and I dream of laughter-filled dinner parties (Grandma’s place is perfect).

* I change all the playlists on my IPOD. I get rid of those named “CocoCabana” and create ones called “Rubberboots”, “Chai Tea” and “Used Bookstore.” Perhaps Matthew Good will become one of my tradition playlists. Last September, Keira and I went to his concert. It was amazing (no surprise there), but his latest album (“Hospital Music”) was on replay for the entire month because it fit so perfectly. I think I am loving it even more this year given the way I am feeling right now.

Waiting for Spring

2008-08-28T11:39:00.000-07:00

I am stranded in spiritual/emotional winter.

I am depressed.

I’ve been fighting it for the past few months, trying to avoid it…

Trying to deny it.

But truth is, I am. Whether I try to brave a smile when I really feel like crying will not change how I feel.

Pride is a funny thing, it somehow makes us feel as if we should pretend we are above everything, that we are super-human… so we spend so much time and waste so much energy trying to deny the very weaknesses that make us human- when in reality, if we only admitted to our weakness, we could put that time and energy into getting help, growing and figuring out how we’re going to face the challenges that lie before us.

Pride makes us spend so much time denying who we are that we forget to live.

Depression has such a stigma attached to it, and I believe it is those who consistently give into their pride (pride-mongers) that perpetuate it. Some have inflicted incredible damage to those who are hurting by making them feel weak, sickly and inadequate on top of everything that is going on inside of them (basically kicking them when they are down).

For me, saying those three words out loud (“I am depressed”) was perhaps the most freeing feeling I have had lately.
As soon as they tumbled from my lips when Scotty was asking if I was upset with him, I felt a massive weight lift from me (humility doesn’t come to me easily, but when I manage to demonstrate it, I feel better… every time).

No amount of acting and denial made my burden lighter, but three simple words not only gave me freedom, but they also opened me up to incredible insight: Everyone gets depressed. Life follows seasons. There will be, and have always been, spiritual summers and winters.

It should come as no surprise.

There is a time for everything, and a season for every activity under heaven:
A time to be born and a time to die,
A time to plant and time to uproot,
A time to kill and a time to heal,
a time to tear down and a time to build,
a time to weep and a time to laugh,
a time to mourn and a time to dance,
a time to scatter stones and a time to gather them,
a time to embrace and a time to refrain,
a time to search and a time to give up
a time to keep and a time to throw away,
a time to tear and a time to mend,
a time to be silent and a time to speak,
a time to love and a time to hate,
a time for war and a time for peace.
(Ecclesiastes 3:1-8)

Two summers ago, I was going through the harshest spiritual winter of my life, and I had felt it proper to step back from volunteering with youth until the following fall. I sent an email out to my lovely senior high girls explaining what I was going through. They sent back a whole lot of love, compassion and understanding that I just sat and wept as I read their beautiful words. One of my girls wrote out John 15, and attached a note at the bottom that said something about this being a time where God was needing to spiritually “prune back” in my life so that I may be able to move forward and do greater things, but at this time in my life (where I felt like I was falling apart) all I needed to do was endure it and rest in him…

That spoke to my soul then, and it speaks to me now: God is going to do his thing whether I like it or not. He has plans for my life, and he wants me to bear more fruit than ever before.

Now that is freedom.

And after winter must come…

Strike Notice

2008-08-23T19:12:00.001-07:00

August has been a dry month...

I won't get into it, but I've unexpectedly had to work a lot this month.

Won't lie... I'm a bit upset about it.

Scotty finished his last exam on August 15th- and I had planned on going camping with him for 4 days during his two weeks off, but instead I am working...

Lame.

Last week and this coming week combined I will have worked 154 hours (48 of which are on the coming long weekend).

No more summer for me.

So I'm on strike... until I stop feeling so bad for myself.

... and until I get my new camera: The Canon S5 IS Powershot

Drums and a Bloated Moon

2008-08-15T21:30:00.000-07:00

I am perched on the back of the couch, my laptop resting on the window-seat, the moon is swollen and fat and is casting a deep silver light on the few small clouds that remain suspended in the hot summer night air.

I am at work yet again, but something feels different tonight.

I humidity just hangs in the air... and I love it. While some complain that these hot nights make sleeping hard, I actually enjoy them. It is exactly this that I crave in the middle of winter when it seems that nothing can warm me up.

The sounds of tribal drums are echoing off the houses- all I can guess is that someone is having a full moon celebration. Every once and a while I hear cheers, and there is part of me that wants to wander out into the neighbourhood to see the action.

Even though it seems to be the butt of far too many jokes amongst mainlanders... Surrey has grown on me. I truly love how multicultural it is. I enjoy walking into a store and being an ethnic minority. If one wants authentic ethnic dishes, it seems that Surrey is the place to find it.

Truth is, I ache to travel. I have not been off the continent yet, but have always dreamt of running away for a while and seeing how other people live. I am fascinated by other cultures and traditions.

Money is hard to come by in these final months of my undergraduate degree (and years of Scotty's), I know that travel isn't feasible in the near future... so for now I have to find enjoyment in my present surroundings.

Staring at the moon and listening to the beating drums tonight makes me feel that it may not be so difficult.

A Bunny's Wonder Woman

2008-08-14T05:25:00.000-07:00

4:50 am I woke from a very deep slumber to a muffled squeel coming from the back yard. I took a couple deep breaths, flung myself out of bed and sprinted down the hall, stairs, through the kitchen, down a few more steps, stopped momentarily to throw on all the WRONG lights, through two sliding doors and into my black back yard.

Forget the fact that I've got early stages of plantar faciitis (from freakin' flip flops!), I couldn't even feel the rocks under my feet. I tripped only once (onto the dewy-wet lawn), but I was up in seconds and barreling towards the back corner of our lot, out popped a scared, wet and disheveled Coconut(my Holland lop), but I kept going for the asshole who wasn't playing nice with my baby...

It hopped onto the back fence...I was staring at a smug raccoon. Honestly, if I were just a bit closer I would've punched that raccoon in the bum. My fists were clenched and I was pissed... but he slunk over the fence.

At that moment the backyard flooded with light, and a confused Scotty was standing by the sliding door to see his wife covered in grass clippings (from my fall)... with a wild look still in her eyes.

I scooped up my little boy and he grabbed Pancake. They're spending the rest of the morning in the sun room.

Only a couple bleeding back claws and a whole lot of saliva-matted hair... he put up a solid flight!

As I type this, I flicked on the floodlight to see a mother raccoon and her two little ones climbing around our garden... bunnies go inside at night time from now on.

Matisyahu

2008-08-04T10:36:00.000-07:00

I am finally home. From Pemberton Music Festival to Power to Change Kid's Day Camp in Whistler to a big rock slide across the Sea to Sky... my past 10 days were a whirlwind.

I have so many thought floating in my head right now, but first and foremost is Matisyahu.

I am a HUGE fan, and after seeing him at Pemberton- I am in greater awe.

If you're not familiar with him... you should be.

Finding Balance

2008-07-22T10:27:00.000-07:00

I have been MIA.

My past two weeks have been busy. They've been a lesson in stress control... and now as I sit in the last two days of my two busy weeks, I feel I have made good progress on finding the middle ground between the B-side and the A-side of my personality.

I suffer from an all-or-nothing personality.

When I take something on, I do it BIG time. Which can be kinda good (it is not in my blood to half-ass anything), but it has it's ugly side too. I tend to go so overboard that I simply make things out to be a bigger deal than they are and turn myself into a stress-case.

... and then there's the whole "nothing" side.

I won't attempt something if I can't be sure that I won't be perfect at it. Which really translates to taking myself WAY too seriously. And once I am doing one thing at 100%, I rarely take on anything else.

I am inspired by a few of my coworkers. They work two jobs (pulling close to 50 hours a week), go to school AND make time to have pretty decent social lives. They don't seem to stress about anything, and they completely lack that annoying martyr complex that I can tend to have when I have a final exam or a big project due ("no, I can't have ANY fun for the next week because I have to study").

I like how they seem to be able to live their life amongst chaos. They make fine money, okay grades and they make sure to enjoy themselves along the way. Rather than seeing life as a bunch of endpoints, they enjoy where they're at and make the best of whatever they have.

So I used them as my inspiration as I pulled myself through these past 12 days.

8 research papers (6 regular, 2 project exams/term papers). 6 online discussion posts. Host 2 baby showers 2 Sundays in a row. Keep 40 hrs a week at work. And make sure to enjoy life (go out to dinner, beach, movies and a birthday party).

I have one paper left, and pulled off making it through these deadlines with a bit of life rather than merely surviving them. I had only a couple breakdowns (when my bunny bit my laptop powercord off right at the plug so I had nothing to work with to splice it back together... leaving me stranded for 6 hours because Scotty had the car, brought some tears).

Makes me realize how much I limit myself by taking deadlines, projects and work too seriously. Stress isn't totally inevitable, so much of it is due to choice.

So now I will finish my courses a week early, hop on a bus Thursday morning, spend the weekend working and playing at the Pemberton music fest, followed by work and play doing a kids camp in Whistler village.

Baked.

2008-07-09T16:15:00.001-07:00

The 400th Time...

2008-07-08T09:34:00.000-07:00

Two weeks left of my summer classes, and I am buried in papers. I find the sun to be kryptonite to my academic determination. I really am beginning to believe that all these teachers are really on to something with being able to endlessly enjoy summer break... I'm quite jealous!

...but I'm focusing on making the best of my own situation with 12 hour shifts at the group home and papers... I'm happy at my job (even though I got called MANY names the other night... with "slut" being one of them... that one actually made me laugh- it's my work story as of late) and I am interested in my courses. The more I get into this whole politics arena, the more I SO badly want to be informed. I really want to be one of those individuals who can hold their own in a political debate. I would love to feel so strongly about something that I actually take action (writing letters, attending rallies etc.). I really am in the elemental stages, but I am interested in some sort of political future (whether it is as a job, or something on my own time- I cannot tell). In my dream world I would completely change the face of the foster care system in Canada, and who knows? Those who dare to dream big...

But then there is also the act of simplicity.

I believe that one can change the world with many simple acts of love. I was awakened (yet again) to this "philosophy" by Daryl.

Last week, Scotty and I made one of our ever-increasing trips to Point Roberts, WA. for a gas run and a trip to lighthouse park to see if the killer whales were passing by (yes, a pod of killer whales passes by the point roughly every 24 hours... many whale watching tours from Victoria and Granville Island come out to Point Roberts to spot those breath-taking creatures. We saw them a few weeks ago, and some passed by as close as 300m. from the beach). As we were leaving the park (no whales), we rounded a bend in the road to see a 40-something man with an armload of newspapers and magazines quickly veer his wobbly bicycle out of our lane. Within seconds his papers were scattered all over the road as hit fell off his bike and hit the pavement hard. His head snapped back after his body took the brunt, and he just lie there as our car came to a stop.

Daryl wasn't even close to being hit by us. I believe he saw us coming (at 30 km an hour) and got scared.

I just sat there staring at him, waiting for him to get up, gather his papers and hop back on his bike. As I sat there in my sad apathetic state, daydreaming about my plans for tomorrow, Scotty hopped out of the car and helped the man up, and before I knew it Scotty had gathered all of the man's papers and magazines, popped the bicycle in the trunk and opened the backseat door for our new "friend." It was at this moment that I "snapped" out of it (my own little self-absorbed world) and joined the conversation with Scotty and Daryl.

As we pulled up to his place (or what he wanted us to believe was his place), I hopped out of the car with my mom's fresh whole wheat cinnamon buns (she had given them to me about 10 mins prior) and handed them to Daryl.

As we drove off I knew God had placed Daryl in my life (I wasn't the hero that night, he was mine) to remind me for the 400th time that choosing to make a difference, no matter how simple, is exactly that, a choice. One must choose to keep their eyes open to the opportunities that come at them each and every day, to whole-heartedly love each and every person who is placed in your path that day...to act with intention. What would my life look like if I lived it outside of myself (my own thoughts, worries and to-do lists)?

I believe apathy comes all to easy. People aren't born saints. I must choose to actively fight against it with every step. I must choose to let go of myself and let God take over... to be His hands and His feet, to see my world through His eyes.

It took an intoxicated, skinny, bearded, disheveled man on a wobbly bike to rescue me... for the 400th time.

A Word From Goldie

2008-07-06T10:15:00.000-07:00

I recently finished reading Goldie Hawn's autobiography, "A Lotus Grows in The Mud."

Scotty made fun of me when I pulled "The Banger Sisters" out of a sale bin at the video store. Maybe I'm not 40 years old, but I like Goldie. I find her funny, and I am drawn to her free spirited nature...

Besides...

weren't we the generation who grew up watching the "Golden Girls"?

There were a couple noteworthy points worth sharing...

[1] On freeing yourself from worrying about what others think of you...

"Dr. Grearson helped me understand that the adoration or unkind criticism wasn't mine to own. That it was all about how other people perceived me to be, not how I really was. I needed to take no responsibility other than just being a Rorschach test, an inkblot that others interpreted whichever way they needed to... it allows me to not identify personally with others' perceptions, or to become wrapped up in my own defenses against them."

[2]On getting out of your comfort zone- making yourself vulnerable and open to the possibility of finding a friend in a stranger...

"One should never be closed to new friendship, no matter how old or tired or busy. Every relationship has its unique gifts... There is something about being vulnerable to a stranger. Not vulnerable in the sense of being endangered, but vulnerable in that you are in unfamiliar territory, a place where you need to avail yourself of the help and kindness of others. It not only helps you restore your faith continually in humanity, it is also so humbling... I never want to get so comfortable that I forget the importance of those small connections people can make with other human beings. When you are comfortable, you can miss so much, and I for one don't want to miss a thing"

[3]On relationships... the opposite sex...

"There is nothing more unpleasant for me than to see a man stripped of his power. Even though we sometimes feel like the weaker sex, wake up! Nations have fallen because of us. Women have the power to diminish. I have watched it happen in my own home. It is far better to respect a man who has his own life, his own excitement, his own passion. Celebrate that in him; honour his variety and his power. The next time you ask, 'why didn't you call? Why were you late for dinner? Why didn't you pick up the milk? Why don't you ever take out the trash?' or continue to jab at what you would view as his weaknesses, ask yourself; is this what you want to end up with? Is this your intention, to tame the beast? Is that the prize? The man who just says, 'yes, dear," and falls asleep in the armchair every night? Be careful what you wish for, because you might end up stripping away the vitality, the sexual energy of the man who you once thought of as your knight in shining armor."

Badass.

2008-07-06T10:06:00.001-07:00

The next Jason Statham.

Don't know how I feel about my man killing my big bro... But it's a sweet vid.

About Me

2008-06-24T14:14:00.000-07:00

I've been wanting to update my profile for a while now... but the words didn't seem to flow, until this afternoon. Here it is- punched out in 5 mins flat.

Now that I've removed that writer's block, it's time for me to start on that Political Science paper.

"The painful thing about enlightenment is that you cannot go back to the warm safe place that ignorance keeps so impenetrable for us"- Goldie Hawn (A Lotus Grows in the Mud)

I am on a journey. Most of the time I feel completely overwhelmed by this chapter in my life (the 20's- where one experiences many of life's greatest shifts) and all the choices that lay before me. I desire to become a woman of humility and intense compassion, a steward of nature and someone who lives life intentionally- who takes great joy in simplicity. I wish to be remembered for my love- to gather wisdom from the most unlikely of sources and to be foolish enough to believe I can make a difference. I want to walk in the footsteps of a man who did so with intensity, breaking all molds; loving and living with "the least of these."

Piper

2008-06-23T16:39:00.000-07:00

I am now an Auntie of seven (it'll be eight in the fall).

Piper Elizabeth Wright was born on June 20th.

She took her sweet time coming- her original due date was June 8th, but that may have led to one of the cutest newborns I have ever laid eyes on (no red wrinkled, cakey skin).

Steph and Tre are head-over-heels with their first baby together!

The Ultimate Do-It-Yourself Girl

2008-06-23T16:27:00.001-07:00

Long before we became tragically short on money (due to mine and Scotty's tuition), I always loved the challenge of DIY projects. I believe it is in my blood, passed down from my dear mom.

Anyone who has ever gone shopping with me has likely heard me say... "I could do THAT myself." It started with me making my own toys as a child and progressed to clothing and room decor in my teens (if you knew me when I was 14 you may recall the lampshade fashioned entirely out of photo negatives... which I saw a few weeks ago in a home decor magazine!), and has now progressed into refitting old cast-away clothes into something modern (usually inspired by current fashion magazines), bath and body products made from scratch (I'm STILL trying to figure out how LUSH makes that jelly soap), and more home decorating.

It has become a bit of a sickness... a strange sense of pride. I often feel as though "buying it" would be admitting defeat, and the high price tag serving as the bitter cherry on top (See? I really am meant to be poor).

Three and a half weeks ago, I did this: (I had avoided posting it earlier to prove all those who would normally say "It's gonna get infected" wrong).

I pierced my own ears many times in high school and had no trouble. The belly button in grade 11 was a little trickier and took a second go because I didn't do it deep enough to allow for it to "reject" a little. Personally, I don't see the difference between doing it yourself and paying someone else to do it for you as long as you are careful about cleanliness. Piercing was/is often a cultural practice and they seem to do just fine minus the fancy piercing studios. And pain is pain and I handle mine just fine (seeing as I am made to push a live human out of my body... I figure piercing is peanuts).

Besides, "DIY Chelsea" paid $3 instead of $50.

So Lucky

2008-06-19T08:35:00.000-07:00

The morning that heard that voice speak to me I was reflecting on a recent night out, more specifically, on a conversation over dinner with a past friend and a couple friends of a friend.

We did the obligatory "here's what I do as a job and here's where my future is headed" and there was a moment with one girl who was discussing her job, a great job, where she let down her defenses and became very vulnerable; she looked at the floor in mid sentence and unearthed what she really wished she was doing: a much less glamorous job... a job involving helping others. She buried it with a smile and changed the subject as quickly as she had let down her defenses. I am sure that everyone else in on the conversation were fooled by her efforts to shrug it off as if it didn't matter, but I was haunted by it.

She is following the life that others are impressed by- the life that others want her to live, but she's selling herself short.

No matter how hard I tried to steer the conversation back to it- our audience was not interested and kept turning to subjects of real-estate, gossip and makeup products. It was clear that it was only acceptable to keep the dinner conversation light, so I caved and talked about crazy Tom Cruise, lip gloss and how I don't think I'll ever own a house... but I'd love to own a backyard pool (how that would be possible- I do not know).

Everyone was really nice, but I really didn't fit into that crowd, and I couldn't figure out why. It wasn't that I felt like I was better than them, because I quite enjoyed the dumb Tom Cruise conversation (I admit that I frequent perezhilton.com from time to time).

What I realized this morning is that I didn't feel challenged by anyone that night. I am blessed to have friends that are an endless source of inspiration to me. They challenge me to take responsibility for my actions as a consumer, to love others as I love myself, to question rather than blindly accept, to do simple things for others, to love big, to take care of this earth, to LIVE it rather than talk it...

I have learned more from my friends than I have given them credit for. I am endlessly thankful to them for guiding me towards a life that goes somewhat against the status quo... for never letting me sell myself short.

Released.

2008-06-17T13:30:00.000-07:00

This morning I heard a voice.

It was undeniable and it left me in tears- tears of relief- tears of breakthrough- tears of realization.

I feel as though blindspots have been removed from the windows to my soul.

A burden has been lifted, and I have taken my first deep breath in a LONG time.

"Let not your life be defined by what you achieve... let your life be defined by how you love."

It came upon me with such power- it spoke directly to my soul. It gave me the answer that I have been searching for.

I am a firm believer in the quarter life crisis. It is a chapter of life characterized by towering pressure where we are supposed to experience change from teen to adult, job to career, single to married, renter to homeowner, child to parent, influenced to respected.... and we're supposed to achieve all of this in 10 years.

I have felt guilty... like a failure for not being what I had set out to be 7 years after graduating high school.

In high school, I was ALL about the achievement: My course load in grade 12 consisted of all the sciences (math, biology, chemistry, calculus and physics) and I put pressure on myself to be at the top of all my classes. I graduated with a 93.5% average. I was the class valedictorian. I was headed to UBC pre-med... and I was set on being defined by my achievements. I wanted to be great....

Every time I run into an old friend there is the inevitable exchange of the resume- the listing of all that I have done and achieved since high school, and it is in these moments that the pressure is nearly unbearable as I am forced to examine where I am compared to where I believe I am SUPPOSED to be.

My last few exchanges have been different. I have noticed the disappointment in the faces others as they give me the run-down of their lives over the past few years- their eyes don't match their words. Even though some had achieved so much- degrees, travel, buying the first home etc.- they appear to feel the same insurmountable pressure I feel.

I have been left to wonder whether it is achievement, and lack of, that has left me feeling guilty and dissatisfied or if it is that I have spent so much time deceiving myself... convincing myself that I really WANT all of this; and further, that all of this will bring meaning and fulfillment to my life.

At the end of my life will I measure it by what I have done?

Will I beat myself up over what I have failed to achieve?

Or will I measure my life by how I have loved?

It doesn't matter what you do with your life... what matters is that you loved.

Love well. Love Big. Love impossible.

Thursdays

2008-06-09T10:55:00.000-07:00

On Thursday mornings I pack up my books and head up Burnaby mountain with Scotty to take advantage of their scenic study spots, coffee shops and the "atmosphere of learning."

Thursdays are a day of contrast. We spend the morning at the Burnaby mountain campus and the afternoon ate the harbour center campus in downtown Vancouver. Last Thursday I took advantage of some of the trails on the outskirts of the campus while Scotty finished up his last class on the mountain. It was pouring rain, the trails were slick and muddy (I fell onto my hands twice while scurrying up the hills), the air was thick and the peppery scent of the forest was invigorating. As I rounded cardiac hill the rain turned to downpour and the clouds enveloped me as I climbed.

Surrounded by moss, towering trees and lush ferns my spirit soared. I turned off my ipod and was serenaded by the sound of my breath, the pouring rain and the singing birds. As I weaved along the path, leaping over the puddles, I stretched out my hands to touch the moss covered stumps as I passed. An hour later I was in the car heading for the heart of Vancouver. Trees turned into houses, houses turned into buildings, and soon the buildings nearly blocked out the sky.

As we headed down Hastings, I stared out my window as we drove through the Eastside. Every week I stare out my window in silence and see something new... something shattering my stereotypes. As a wave of hopelessness overtakes me, we cross into gastown and I stare at shiny shops- I am hit with consumerism and excess... it is impossible to process the polar opposites, and I am left feeling numb.

Usually I settle into the library and work on my online courses, but last week I grabbed a coffee and headed for Robson. As I walked around in Urban Outfitters I found myself stretching out my hands to feel the fabric of the dresses and shirts, just as I had done with the mossy stumps on my trail run little over an hour ago. I was serenaded by some indie band playing on the sound system and was confronted by a sea of bright colours... I felt empty. I was acutely aware of being completely detached from my spirit... I couldn't feel it.

As I left the store with a couple gifts for friends (I'm STILL not buying new clothes... I'm sticking it out until at least next Valentine's day as I had committed), I felt I had begun to peel back some truth: there is something truly soul-quenching to be found in nature- it's where I find God- its where I can feel my spirit. It is where I am reminded that I am a spiritual being, and all the man-made material stuff just muddies that.

It distances you by keeping you distracted.

All Kids Are Cute But...

2008-06-04T22:15:00.000-07:00

Sophie's the cutest!

You have to read about Sophie and her belly button... I'm in stitches!

Read my sister's (corinna) blog post here.

One of the Perks of The Job

2008-06-04T21:45:00.000-07:00

Today at work one of the girls used some very clever sign language to show me how she feels about me.

1. She pointed at her eye

2. She fingered me.

3. She made her hands into a heart.

4. She pointed at me.

...how sweet.

(For those who don't get it: "I F---ING LOVE YOU")

My Dreamboat.

2008-06-04T21:42:00.000-07:00

Monday night we did a little photoshoot.

Scotty's trying to get some more extra work while in school, but the part he's gunning for requires some topless photos.

Here's one of my best shots:

This Moment

2008-05-27T14:41:00.000-07:00

This past weekend Scotty and I got down and dirty in the soil in the backyard... and planted a vegetable garden.

I lack the green thumb that my mother has (I kill house plants all the time), but last yearwe spent a few bucks and threw some seeds in the dirt... within a month or so we had buckets of veggies and strawberries- we even grew our own pumpkins for autumn cooking!

Scotty's grandpa spent a lot of time tending to his garden, and it's one of the ways we honour his memory... I am convinced that there is magical soil at his place (the yard is beautiful- with VERY little effort on our part).

It was a great to spend a Saturday afternoon with my hands burried in the dirt... we even attempted watermelons and cataloupe this year!

We fired up the BBQ and cooked up some salmon (for me) and chicken (for him)- as we sat in our backyard with the sun lowering behind the trees, I looked to the pale blue sky and smiled, it was one of those soul-quenching moments... I could exist in that moment (not tied up in all my "to-do's" or past regrets) and realize my blessings.

I could hear that still small voice calling...

Oprah Purloined My Plan

2008-05-26T16:20:00.000-07:00

I can't believe she took my idea and it passing it off as her own brainchild...

Oprah's on a VERY similar cleanse- except that hers is only 3 weeks, AND she has a personal chef to make lots of tasty creations.

...damn you Oprah.

(If you're considering the cleanse... she has tons of recipes here... although you run the risk of being an Oprah drone now that everyone is doing it)

An Update

2008-05-22T11:05:00.000-07:00

I really didn't expect that there would be so much hoopla over the cleanse, but I realize I'm not the only crazy fool out there...

...it's nice to know.

Today I am officially on the one week countdown. I have 21 days of cleansing behind me, 7 lbs dropped (likely excess water weight I've been carrying around day in and day out because I eat too much salt and simple carbohydrates), and, like my girl Ash (who's a few days behind me)... my skin is glowing.

I am very aware of the cognitive dissonance(yep, I'm a Psychology major... and I'm S-M-R-T) that is likely to be taking place, but some of the outcomes cannot so easily be "imagined."

So judge for yourself. Obviously if one puts so much hard work into something, they've gotta convince themselves that its working (otherwise I would have never stuck to it). Like I've already stated, I already did this cleanse nearly 5 years ago and was impressed... but I have been pleasantly surprised at the outcomes this time around as well.

So here goes:

*By day 6 my energy was soaring (last time I did it I felt sick to my stomach at that point as my body literally was going through with drawl from all the addictive substances in my regular diet... mainly sugar). I found the salt thing super hard, because all my food tasted so bland, but I didn't even give a thought to sugar which is incredible because I've always been completely convinced that I was a sugar-addict with an uncontrollable sweet-tooth... turns out... not so true.

*Just before the 2 week mark I developed a strange rash on my left cheek that curved up and around my eye. It didn't itch or hurt, but it was red and puffy/splotchy and lasted for 4 days. During that time I got quite a few pimples (on my face, back and chest... and I've never had any trouble with acne in my life) and developed darkened patches on my back. When you go on a long cleanse like this, your body gets a chance to really clean itself out and does so in any way it can- one of which being that toxins seep out of your pores, and a side effect can be breakouts and dark patches (mine were a mottled light brown)... the rash I didn't get last time but am convinced it's all part of it because I don't have allergies, and in any case, it wasn't itchy. Some people get really itchy as the toxins exit through your skin, and it's recommended that you shower and bathe lots and fill a sock with oatmeal and rub it all over your skin to soothe it... again, the first time I cleansed, I was horribly itchy, this time I was fine (perhaps because I became a vegetarian a year and a half ago?... interesting). While I didn't get itchy, I did notice I had a very unpleasant odour... gross but true... my skin got stanky within an hour of showering.

*Week 3 was brutal, half way through I got the flu... to spare the details (and save my dignity) all I will say is that on a cleanse, things tend to move through the digestive system with ease- add a flu on top of that? Oh horrors. While I craved ginger ale and soda crackers, I resisted (barely) and drank fresh unsweetened OJ and ate fruit... if I can continue to cleanse on a flu... than nothing is gonna stop me. The clouds finally parted and now I am beginning to feel great again. Other changes that I noticed was that my taste buds finally kicked in and with it an acute sense of smell (blessing or curse?... I'm not really sure). I had some dried fruit and was blown away by how incredibly sweet it was, and could only stomach a bit. My 3-weeks-ago self would've punched me for saying it, but it's true.

*Beginning of week 4: I've slowly begun to change my whole mindset- on this cleanse food is fuel. Period. It isn't a social salve (you realize how much every social gathering is centered on food when you can't eat most of it), it isn't to satisfy cravings, it's not a reward, it's not a "pick-me-up" and it is not consumed in excess... it is as it should be, and I am currently trying to harness this view of food. While I will add dairy, eggs, wheat and starch back into my diet after the cleanse, I am dead set on allowing these 28 days to be a HUGE learning experience.

I've learned to cook some stuff I've never tried (quinoa and millet) and LOVE it, and have experienced the difference that a natural meal (AKA not processed and prepackaged) makes in terms of appetite and energy (satisfied on less and it stays with you for a LONG time!). I'm not going to re-introduce certain things back into my diet such as artificial sweeteners, powdered soup stock and white flour. I'm going to be very leery of food labels and not buy it if I have no clue what's in it.

If one really thinks of the common side effects of a cleanse (nausea, headaches, rashes, breakouts, darkened skin patches, you skin smelling something like rotting food) why the heck are we even willing to put that stuff in our bodies in the first place? It's actually really scary.

I'm not saying I will be a complete angel, I will likely eat chips (but will buy the ones that are flavoured with dehydrated veggies and real spices etc.), candy (sweetened with REAL sugar NOT high concentrated fructose corn-syrup), and baked goods (likely those that I make so I know what's in them).

All in all, if your willing to put your taste buds aside, and work hard, I think you'll be glad you did it. It's only 28 days, after that you can eat whatever "you want", but I guarantee what "you want" will be completely different (but like anything, you have to continually put effort in afterwards, or you'll simply slip back into old habits).

... And Then I Walk Away

2008-05-15T11:02:00.000-07:00

"I suddenly remembered the tender concern with which the Supreme Court judges in Delhi (before vacating the legal stay on further construction of the Sardar Sarovar Dam) had enquired whether tribal children in the resettlement colonies would have children's parks to play in. The lawyers representing the Government had hastened to assure them that indeed they would, and, what's more, that there were seesaws and slides and swings in every park. I looked up at the endless sky and down at the river rushing past and for a brief, brief moment the absurdity of it all reversed my rage and I laughed."

Every so often I come across a reading for a course that makes my jaw drop and my blood boil... Arundhati Roy's essay The Greater Common Ground is one of those. If you have time, I recommend giving it a read, if not, I'll summarize as best I can.

Despite all the ecologial, environnmental and climactic consequences of building dams, there are also intensely heated social debates surrounding construction of dams in third world countries...

The River Narmada in India is just one example where the government proposes to build 30 large, 135 medium and 300 small dams in the water shed. In Fact, India now boasts of being the world's third largest dam builder. According to the Central Water Commission, we have three thousand six hundred dams that qualify as Big Dams, three thousand three hundred of them built after Independence. One thousand more are under construction.

And what a story it is.

"People say that the Sardar Sarovar Dam is an expensive project. But it is bringing drinking water to millions. This is our lifeline. Can you put a price on this? Does the air we breathe have a price? We will live. We will drink. We will bring glory to the state of Gujarat."

- Urmilaben Patel, wife of Gujarat Chief Minister Chimanbhai Patel, speaking at a public rally in Delhi in 1993.

"We will request you to move from your houses after the dam comes up. If you move it will be good. Otherwise we shall release the waters and drown you all."

- Morarji Desai, speaking at a public meeting in the submergence zone of the Pong Dam in 1961.

"Why didn't they just poison us? Then we wouldn't have to live in this shit-hole and the Government could have survived alone with its precious dam all to itself."

- Ram Bai, whose village was submerged when the Bargi Dam was built on the Narmada. She now lives in a slum in Jabalpur.

Yet one-fifth of India's population - 200 million people - does not have safe drinking water and two-thirds - 600 million - lack basic sanitation. They're a brazen means of taking water, land and irrigation away from the poor and gifting it to the rich. Their reservoirs displace huge populations of people, leaving them homeless and destitute.

Some estimates have been as high as 50 million people have been displaced by dams (their villages flooded), and what makes it even more sickening is that the majority of these people are tribal peoples who have been forced from their homes and way of life only to be lost in the slums (there have been reports that some have resorted to selling their babies to foreign adoption agencies to survive).

According to the Land Acquisition Act of 1894 (amended in 1984), the Government is not legally bound to provide a displaced person anything but a cash compensation. Imagine that. A cash compensation, to be paid by an Indian government official to an illiterate tribal man (the women get nothing) in a land where even the postman demands a tip for a delivery! Most tribal people have no formal title to their land and therefore cannot claim compensation anyway. Most tribal people, or let's say most small farmers, have as much use for money as a Supreme Court judge has for a bag of fertilizer.

The following snapped me into reality- prompting me to write about it:

The millions of displaced people in India are nothing but refugees of an unacknowledged war. And we, like the citizens of White America and French Canada and Hitler's Germany, are condoning it by looking away. Why? Because we're told that it's being done for the sake of the Greater Common Good. That it's being done in the name of Progress, in the name of National Interest (which, of course, is paramount). Therefore gladly, unquestioningly, almost gratefully, we believe what we're told. We believe that it benefits us to believe.

Allow me to shake your faith. Put your hand in mine and let me lead you through the maze. Do this, because it's important that you understand. If you find reason to disagree, by all means take the other side. But please don't ignore it, don't look away.

It's a hard pill to swallow, but isn't it true of any injustice happening in the world? My problem is that I come across stories like that all the time, I feel disgusted and saddened, but then I walk away and feel as if I am better for at least knowing. I convince myself that I am not like the people who are inflicting such injury on the poor, but if I don't do anything, am I much different?

A Spanish Villa Summer

2008-05-13T11:45:00.001-07:00

This coming weekend marks the unofficial kick-off to summer 2008.

Summer is, by far, my favourite season. Free time is spent bummin' on the beach, lounging in the sun with a good book, going for long walks and taking sunset bike rides, and with that said, recreation in the summer is MUCH easier on the wallet. The fruitbowl gets a major upgrade from the regular warehouse apple, oranges and bananas staples to include black cherries, nectarines, strawberries, peaches and watermelon (and best of all, most of the fruit is local meaning that it was able to ripen on the vine= better flavour AND less transport= smaller carbon footprint!). The days are long, the evenings are hot and everything is better bathed in sunshine.

Last summer went by so quickly, too quickly, and one of my biggest disappointments was that we didn't see enough of our friends despite the fact that we had every intention of taking advantage of all the space we currently enjoy at our Villa.

We have one summer left at our Spanish Villa (we're likely to be moving in October), and I am determined to slow down summer by being more intentional and enjoying every moment of free time with my friends.

Being a starving student household doesn't mean that this summer can't totally rock, I am set to make the best of where I am at in life and what I have right now, and what we do have is a big backyard, a private deck (if we drape blankets over the railings), an entire house to ourselves, two of the most gorgeous beaches within 5 min drives from our place (at which you can go out and catch your OWN crab for dinner), a strawberry patch, a vegetable garden and a BBQ.

Viewed in that light, we've got all the fixin's for great backyard BBQ's, tanning except for people (that part is up to you!).

So starting June 7th, our door is open ALL day EVERY Saturday until September for Summer Lazy Days and evening BBQ's (I'm sure we can get a fire pit for night time s'mores too), who knows, we can sleep in the backyard under the stars if you're up for it! Point is: Saturdays= sunning and feasting at the Villa (think of it as the equivalent to the Hamptons for us poor folk).

We will likely only be gone for one Saturday at the end of August (for camping)- other than that we're in school all summer and lack money to go anywhere. If your at our place every saturday it doesn't mean you're annoying... it means your a good friend.

See you June 7th? (if weather sucks, come anyways, we'll order in a watch movies- and maybe go down the street to crash the inlaw's hot tub, our place is big enough to hold everyone).

Spring Cleaning

2008-05-05T17:31:00.000-07:00

...It's been a while.

I have good reason: four year anniversary getaway, moved the group home (after some drama), officially became 1/2 of a "starving student" household... that's right, as a type, Scotty is finishing up his fist day back to school up on Burnaby mountain).

With all this change, I've decided to capitalize on it.

When people want to change bad habits or let go of addictions one of their biggest obstacles is that their environment often stays the same (and thus, they fall back into their old patterns). This fact, coupled with my distaste for supporting those big corporate bastards getting us all hooked on junkfood has brought me to sacrifice my tastebuds in honour of good health.

I am in day 4 of a 28 day cleanse.

I'm not talking an herbal cleanse (those ones where you continue to eat crap but just take a supplement 3 times a day at the cost of $50)- I'm talking the hard-work-self-control cleanse.

My girl Sarah and I went on this incredible (and cruel) cleanse almost five years ago, and it was well worth it (I had planned on doing it once a year, but I'm a procrastinator... what can I say?). It was so hard, but after the 28 days, my energy and mood was up, and my appitite for sugar and chemicalized food was WAY down (I remember a lot of it actually turning my stomach).

I'll share the plan. Take the bait if your in for the challenge...

1. REMOVE ALL ALLEGENIC FOODS FROM DIET... COLD TURKEY
Some of these aren't bad fr you, but many people have mild allergies to them and don't know it (evidenced through depression, fatigue, headaches etc.), so cutting them out of your diet for the 28 days allows your body to work on getting all the toxins out (without having to try to digest stuff it really hates). These include:
*Wheat... yes even whole wheat products (ever heard of gluten?- it's a huge problem to a lot of people, and it's in ALL wheat). So for 28 days say goodbye to bread, pasta, cereal, baked goods etc.
*Dairy (lactose)... no milk, cheese, yogurt, ice cream...boo.

2. BYE BYE RED MEAT AND EGGS
It's hard for your body digest meat and cleanse at the same time (did you know it takes up to 3 dyas for your body to pull the nutrients from meat?...yes, that's right, it has to begin to decompose in your body first... that's why people on Atkins had that bad odour- it's called ketosis). You want to stay away from Saturated fats (as in red meat and eggs) because they tend to coat your intestines (not allowing your body to get rid of the junk thats lining them).

3.NO REFINED
No sugar. It causes huge highs and lows... this one is hard for me, I'm an addict, but after 2 weeks (of hell), your cravings dissappear (and you can be one of those people we all hate who is satisfied with fruit...damn you Scotty).

4. AU REVOIR ADDITIVES AND PRESERVATIVES
This is what your cleansing out of your system... so give your body a break already! We were never created to eat this stuff, and it doesn't do anything for our health. Instead, much of it lines our digestive tract, interfering with proper absorbtion of nutrients (making us tired, cranky and endlessly hungry). Just think about it: if it is made to preserve food... what do you think it does when you swallow it?

5. PASS THE SALT
It makes you retain water... avoid it as much as you can bear... you don't want to retain anything.

According to naturalpaths, we're lugging a lot of toxins around in our bodies and because we keep adding more, our body doesn't have time to get rid of them, so they clog our intestines and some get stored in our fat (there is the theory that the storage of these toxins are largely to blame for cellulite... thats why skinny gals get it too if your body is the type that transports toxins away from the intestine). Another claim? You can lose up to 10 lbs of toxins (but that's if you eat insane ammounts of processed foods). I don't remember a bunch of weightloss, but I did get the dark patches on my back that were predicted (toxins leech out of your skin) that dissappeared in week four.

So what do you eat?
*Ooodles of Veggies
*Fruits (Fresh, dried or frozen...fresh juices and smoothies are great)
*Oats (Oatmeal, homemade granola)
*Grains and seeds (Brown rice, Quinoa, millet, barley... look it up).
*Tofu
*White meat (chicken or turkey... but try to buy organic to avoid the hormones)
*White fish
*Soy/almond milk (but not the flavoured... So Nice Natural is good).
*Nuts (you can buy natural peanut butter).
*Brown rice pasta. (make homemade tomato sauce and pesto and you're set)
*Beans
*Honey

Your main flavour enhancers will be lemon juice, garlic, vinager, olive oil, pepper, mustard, tahini (sesame paste), miso paste, parsley and Mrs. Dash... it'll be bland at first, but your tastebuds get more sensitive within a week.

For recipies I recommend vegetarian and vegan books/websites... you actually can eat a lot more than you think (homemade sushi with brown rice, fruit crisp (cook frozen fruit w/ honey and toast rolled oats w/ honey and grapeseed oil and BAM!), Stir Fry, Oatmeal pancakes w/ strawberry sauce (over cook your oatmeal then pur into fry pan)...

The final key is to drink tons of warm water with lemon, it cleanses your kidneys and liver so they can do their work of detoxing you.

If your crazy enough to do it, remember the saying: "Short term loss for long term gain"

An ode to My Bubbs

2008-04-19T14:19:00.000-07:00

Four years ago, we stood in the sand, by the turquoise waters, under the rustling palms- lost in one another's tearful eyes as we said "I do" in front of 30 of our closest friends and family.

I had always said that I wouldn't get married until after I turned 30 (I was going to become a doctor and travel, and I didn't want no man interfering with that!), but we met at 15, and somehow that tubby (he had baby fat when we met), loud, outgoing, energetic blue-eyed- boy convinced this stubborn girl to put on that white dress at 21 and meet him at the end of the isle to set out on life hand in hand.

I cannot begin to describe what he means to me... so I'll paraphrase, the good and the bad.

Dear Bubbs (I know, pet names are lame- sorry to let everyone down)

You can't let me beat you when we go out for runs- you almost always run two steps ahead, and no matter how much I train, you can always outrun me... It never fails- you shave your beard the day AFTER I clean the bathroom, and you don't clean up the hairs around the faucet. You leave your cleats in the backseat and it makes the car smell funny. You remember useless facts (like: the dot over the letter “i” is called a tittle), but you forget to tell me your sister is having a baby girl.

Sometimes I think you nap too much. You laugh in this crazy shrill voice in the theater at parts in the movie that no one else is laughing at. You like your sheets untucked, but I like them tucked, even though I leave your side intucked you're forever kicking mine out. You try to hide it when you eat McDonald's- even though I've NEVER gotten after you (how many times do I have o tell you that I don't care?).

You have an Indiana-Jones complex, and bring the snorkel everytime we go to the beach because you think you'll find sunken treasure. You refuse to laugh at my jokes, even when I think they're brilliant. You always try to take credit for things that I made or decorated. You make a funny face or do a silly voice, but can never remember how to do it again. You always want to leave the dishes for later, and I want to do them now (that fight in the movie "The Breakup" hit way too close to home). You love that Miley Cyrus song, and chant her name aloud everytime we listen to the radio...

You hug me too much, too long, and at the worst times (when I am trying to get things done) and it drives me crazy... I would miss it if you stopped.

You carry me to bed when I fall asleep watching a movie. You eat all my tofu-laced vegetarian dishes and tell me they taste great. You take me for sushi all the time, even though you hate seafood. You kiss me on the shoulder every night before you go to sleep. You hug me in silence, so tight, when my world feels like its falling apart. You are so quick to say "I'm sorry" and always say "Let's never fight again" after even the smallest disagreement (which always makes me laugh). You catch me fresh crab, clean it, cook it and even take it out of the shell and then throw a frozen pizza in the oven for yourself. You're not afraid to dream big (just like we all used to do as kids). You don't give up when you really want something- you don't let setbacks crush you. You love your family. You think your mom is one of the funniest people on this planet, and you make no secret of the fact that your dad is your hero. You tear-up in sports movies, when the underdog begins to find his strength. You can make me laugh, even when I'm really mad at you.

When I came home from work, so broken about all these kids who have no parents, you agreed that we should adopt one day. You're cool with me wanting to be a career woman, and are excited to be a stay at home dad. You do this dolphin impression that I love. You tell me I am beautiful all the time, but you tell me that I am incredibly compassionate more (you focus on my desire to be defined as a person who makes this world a little brighter). You're always "on board" when I talk about doing things differently (never having our "own" babies, not getting a mortgage or not living in Suburbia forever...gasp!). You seem genuinely amazed by everything I do (you read my blog and say I should write a book, you see something I sew and say I should be a designer, I re-arrange the furniture and you say I should be a decorator... on and on). You see the good in people, you understand the value in persevering in relationships with people who are difficult. You don't judge, or become easily angered (except that time I punched you in the back of the head... again, I'm sorry, but you had it coming- on that we'll never see eye-to-eye), and you don't put people down. You are genuine- and people sense it mere moments from meeting you. You bring life to the most boring parties/get-togethers.

You bring excitement, adventure and joy to my life. In many ways we're so different, and I love it because you challenge me, and I admire your strengths (because they're often my weaknesses), I am a better person because of knowing you, being influenced by you, arguing with you and sharing life with you.

To many more years... the good and the bad... I love you.

xoxoxo,
Chels

Create.

2008-04-18T13:57:00.000-07:00

It may be true that one man's trash is another man's treasure...

It's been just over two months and counting that I have made honest on my commitment to stop buying new clothing. I even side-stepped the mall last month and opted to make my friend, Jacqui, a recycled gift rather than throw money down on something new.

No, I'm not talking about a re-gifter closet...

I made Jacqui a gift out of recycled materials. I got back into my sewing groove and designed a couple throw pillows for her living room made from vintage cloth and pillow forms I scored at ValuVillage.

About four hours later I turned a heap of someone's fabric scraps into these little gems.

Pier 1 charges about $40 a pillow, the materials in mine may have run me a whoppin' $3.50 each. I enjoyed the process, designed something entirely to suit her (she's a little bird crazy), and saved more "junk" from entering our overflowing landfills. We're such a wasteful culture, but I am convinced that with a little work we can learn to see beauty and possibility in things that we consider trash and stop thinking that everything must be "new."

Finding Calcutta

2008-04-18T13:08:00.000-07:00

Some dream of Paris. Others dream of Tahiti.

I dream of Africa.

I have always held a fascination of Africa- its culture, varied landscapes, and exotic wildlife, but most of all, I am fascinated by its people.

In grade 7, as I began to understand that poverty was only scratching the surface of the problems in Africa- I vowed to become a doctor. I thought I would pack my bags the moment I graduated from medical school, move to Africa, open a clinic and live out my days serving the people.

That dream followed me all the way to UBC. I completed one semester of pre-Med, and then pulled out.

My grades weren't the problem (I had a B- average)... it was my heart. In the 3 months I lived there, it never felt right.

I worked for a year as a lifeguard, swim teacher and water aerobics instructor, trying to give myself time to figure out what had happened.

For six years I had dreamt of being a doctor in Africa- was I really doing the right thing by pulling out of the race after only three months?

I re-enrolled in school in 2003, but this time by correspondence- working part time and doing school part time. It suited me well because I really had no clue what my game plan was.

All I knew was that my life's heartbeat was to help people.

Mother Teresa's call to the public was that each person must "Find your Calcutta."

The first time I came across that message, it hit me like a ton of bricks: impoverishment isn't confined in Africa, and poverty comes in many forms (physical, spiritual, emotional etc.).

I had wanted make my entrance into Africa in the role of cavalry. I wanted to be a hero, a savior to the people.

I had wanted my job to define me and my knowledge to lead me.

But God wanted humility to define me and my heart to lead me.

I have found Calcutta, she's right outside my door. Sometimes she comes in and eats with me, and what I cannot shake is that, had I let my career, not my heart, lead me, I wouldn't have noticed nor recognized her unless she had an ailment that only medicine could fix.

Would You Dare?

2008-04-08T12:38:00.000-07:00

I got this forward and it's insane! I googled it to see if it was real, and there are even videos on YOUTUBE of it. All I want to know is who's the crazy who figured out that you could swim that close?

In Zimbabwe, Africa, you will find the magnificent Victoria Falls at a height of 128m. The location is known as 'The Devil's Swimming Pool'.

During the months of September and December, people can swim as close as possible to the edge of the falls without falling over!

To see the video go to http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rVN9KnWy-H8&feature=related

Afraid of Being "ALL TALK"

2008-04-07T12:41:00.000-07:00

Over the past year, I've found myself wrestling with finding a balance between living in our society and taking responsiblity for the marginalized.

In a society which is all about what you can get- how do you continue to live in it selflessly? Is a question that I'm becoming increasingly troubled with.

Its not going away.

I spend a lot of time in thought, and what bothers me even more is that despite all the thinking that I do... I don't feel like I'm really doing anything and it's driving me crazy.

I have to step out of the Western mindset that tells us that "giving money = help"

While I acknowledge that I am among the world's wealthiest (on a global scale where a third of the world lives on less than $2 a day), and that will still be true when Scotty pulls out of the workforce and enters SFU as a full-time student at the end of the month, money won't be my best answer to changing my world around me.

I just don't want to be one of those people who justifies living a self-focused life by saying "I'm a good person."

While I continue battling this out, I'm finding my job surreal- the girls continue to amaze me- saying some of the most profound things. Sometimes I feel as though they're closer to really figuring it all out than I am.

Today, a 13 year old girl, after she lugs two garbage bags full of clothes into the livingroom that she wants to give to thrift: "I've started to realize that I don't need a lot of clothes." (Sidenote: these kids have nothing, no joke, they are in a continual state of moving from group home to group home, they accumulate very little).

Hands down, these kids that I've had the priviledge of working with over the past year have given me my greatest compliment (last week- I balled as she said it- she stared me in the eyes and spoke right to my core... I'm still shaken)and my most treasured gift (after knowing me only a few weeks, she dug through her meager belongings and presented me with a gift that she felt was "perfect" for me) and have demonstrated true courage and character as they battle horrors that no one, let alone a child, should ever have to endure.

From Above

2008-03-30T13:32:00.000-07:00

Last Thursday as I was getting ready to go to Jacqui's B-Day dinner, I got the call.

My mom broke the news, and I broke down after she hung up.

He was in his early 90's. Lived a full life. Loved his wife right to the end. Raised 12 kids, became and grandfather to 46 and a great grandfather upwards of 20 (I really don't know the official count). He loved God, he loved his family...

And now he is finally home.

Big Change

2008-03-19T21:03:00.000-07:00

It's official. My days as a pastor's wife are numbered. In just over a month my man will hang up his "Pastor McDreamy" t-shirt (I made it for him a few years ago) and head back to school. He'll be bussing and skytraining up Burnaby mountain three days a week this summer.

In a few years he'll have his BA in History, and start working on his PDP so he can teach PE and coach football for the rest of his life... He'll be kicking up his feet during winter,spring AND summer break while the rest of us fools work like slaves only to get our two weeks of paid vacation (in which, we have HUGE expectations).

It's so perfect for him that it really is a "no-brainer." But it will be so strange when he's done. He started at the church one month after we got married... So basically we've been Mr and Mrs Pastor right from the start.

I have to say, we don't leave "the ministry" (I use quotations because we'll always be in the ministry... it's who we've become) bittered, indignant or marred... we NEVER had that experience. We've been challenged to our cores about what we really want in life, who we want to be... who God made us to be.

My life has changed- I've met the depths of my soul- I've met the REAL Jesus and I am fearfully excited.

If we didn't have those four years I would probably be chasing empty goals, confusing power for success, equating worth to possessions, and entering every relationship with competition. If we didn't have those four years- I would be a prisoner to my achievements and assets.

Thank God that didn't happen. Thank God for all the people we have met- who have been part of our journey, who have taught us how to hear that still, small voice. Who have prayed into our lives, and have spoken to our souls.

When we finish next month we'll take only one thing:

LOVE.

Get Outside

2008-03-18T13:58:00.000-07:00

Because of all the hard work I've put into the past few weeks, I felt it only fair to reward myself.

My top love language is a tie for acts of service and gifts.

Because serving myself can get a little tricky, I bought myself a one year subscription to "Backpaker" magazine.

Last Friday, shortly after my feet hit the floor, I convinced my husband to come for a run through the forest in the rain. We crossed over the boarder into Point Roberts, parked our car by Lily Point and started weaving back and forth along the muddy paths.

With my music pumping, the scent of wet dirt, and the sound of crashing waves over the cliff we ran beside- I couldn't stop smiling. Literally, full open mouth, massive smiling. I felt so happy to be outside, connecting with and enjoying that which God made. I realized that too much of my time is spent within man made walls... and my soul has been aching to reconnect with the depths that only a fire sunset, jagged mountains, a gentle rain, breaking surf, and singing birds can bring.

I vowed to return.

(My sister in law is a king when it comes to the anything outdoorsy. She knows how to rock climb, snow camp and find her way out of any forest-she doesn't need trails.)

After out trail run we went to a great little coffee shop for an Americano and a panini. I pulled out a "Backpacker" magazine out of a stack. I was sold. Even the advertisements centered on nature with breath-taking photos.

Anyone for a hike?

Addition: 10 days

2008-03-17T13:13:00.000-07:00

Four psychology papers in the mail. One dinner with mom. Three rainy day jogs. One yearly check-up. Two of each Political Science and Environmental Science discussion web postings. One thursday night youth group with a couple beautiful girls. Eight 6am starts. Three 12-hour work shifts. Two times her stories made me cry. Three Yoga flows. Two much overdue cups of coffee with two different friends. One interview given for a friend's journalism assignment. One cavity-free dentist appointment. Four trips to the gym to pump iron. Three movies watched. One trail run with a big perma-smile. One trip to Chapters. Three books bought. Seven journals read. One-dozen more reasons to hate consumerism.

Two announcements of a husband's resignation.

One eternally greatful heart.

Politics....Me!?!

2008-03-15T19:14:00.000-07:00

I am just starting out a couple of new online courses: Environmental Science (Sustainability) and Political Science (Globalization). I knew I would enjoy Environmental Science (it is instilling a healthy fear in me, to say the least), but I had no idea that I actually possess a substantial appetite for politics.

I actually signed up for the course because I felt badly about how politically clueless I am- terms like hegemony, tory and deregulation did not compute. I could get away with it when I was 20, but five years later, and none more the wiser started to make me feel cheap.

I say it all the time, ignorance is bliss, but ignorance never changed the world.

As I settle down with my readings and my notebook, I find myself engrossed as I scribble out my notes at fever pace (jaw often dropping).

I'm just starting, but I am already beginning to think differently while I try to figure out where I stand on the subjects and issues.

I'm excited to begin to talk about issues rather than things.

And the ignorance thing?

I believe that having things worth fighting for make for a fuller life. I'd rather live a life of passion.