Author: Widow Badass

Are Bloggers Writers? Let’s Discuss!

On By Widow BadassIn Blogging, Hmmm?81 Comments

From time to time, I see a post published on either why bloggers are writers or why they are definitely not writers. Why a person cares how someone self-identifies is anyone’s guess, but that they do and of course, now I want to know more about what people think. Because apparently it is a divisive issue and I have been known to court controversy. “Shit disturber” is an epithet that has been thrown at used against said to me, from time to time. 🙂

I couldn’t find an accompanying Blogger’s Tears Irish whiskey. Can I infer from this that there is no distinction between the two groups? Hmmmm….

I’m happy to call myself a blogger – one who writes on her blog. If you think that blogging makes me a writer or most certainly not one, well…that is your prerogative, and your opinion and you are welcome to it. For most of my life – from a young child just learning to wield marks on a page with a chubby pencil to today – I have had to write, have admired published authors, and have wondered if I had what it took to be a writer myself. As a child I loved writing (and illustrating) fictional stories, but as I grew older I found that changed. I didn’t have that essential drive to create a fictional world and characters (damn!). However, I still needed to write. But could I ever be a writer if I didn’t write fiction?

As a young adult, I discovered this thing called creative non-fiction, and took after-work community college courses on the same. I continued to consume books on writers and writing. I even once ventured out to a so-called Writers’ Support Group in my hometown, thinking I could find my tribe and not feel so alone anymore. It was an….um…experience. I was not made welcome, despite their ad in the local paper that said otherwise. I had to listen to the other writers make in-jokes (not explained to me), and gossip about absent members of the group. Eventually the group pulled together to do an exercise – a timed writing from a prompt – and then we each had to read what we wrote. ALOUD. To this group.

It was absolutely terrifying for me.

When it was finally my turn, I read my piece…and got no feedback whatsoever. Yup, the sound of crickets greeted my offering, and the group moved onto the next participant.What did this mean? Was I that bad that nothing could be said to redeem what I wrote? Other people’s readings were commented on. WTF?!?

I left that meeting totally disheartened, and never went back. And thinking if this is what writers are all about (clique-y, petty, vengeful, passive-aggressive, jealous), I no longer want to be known as one. Like Groucho Marx, I had no interest in joining a club that wanted me as a member. Except, apparently they didn’t. Want me as a member. Ouch. I guess I could never call myself a writer.

Then the internet happened.

I discovered so many interesting voices on these things called blogs, which I just loved reading. In the early days, people (dare I call them writers???) wrote about everything, especially their take on their day-to-day lives, often in hilarious and insightful ways. Their voices were fresh and engaging and no one I was reading was trying to make a buck at it or conquer a niche or establish a brand, or land a book deal. They all seemed happy just to have a place to put their words, and I was happy to devour their writing. (Yes. Writing.)

A little over 11 years ago now, I started my own blog. One that has changed names and platforms over the years, and has grown with me. One that I still love today as my vehicle to get my words out there. One that has allowed me to finally (!) find my tribe. Am I now a writer? Have I always been a writer? Will I never be a writer? I don’t know if I even care anymore. All I know is that I write on my blog. I love it and I need to do it.

What makes a person a writer? Are you a writer when:

  • you support yourself with your words;
  • you write a book;
  • you write a short story;
  • you write an article;
  • you write ad copy;
  • you write plays;
  • you write scripts;
  • you ghost-write for others;
  • you write on a blog;
  • you write fiction;
  • you write non-fiction;
  • you write in a journal;
  • you are published by others; (do letters to the editor count? asking for a friend… 😉 )
  • you self-publish;
  • you possess a post-secondary education in writing;
  • you attend writing workshops and retreats;
  • others call you a writer;
  • you call yourself a writer;
  • you have an internet presence as a writer (published or not);
  • you have an editor;
  • you receive grants with which to support yourself as you write;
  • you have received awards and recognition for your written words;
  • you feel tortured and misunderstood? 😉

Any, all, or none of the above? What have I missed?

At what point can you call yourself a writer sans dispute?

Personally, I think that anyone who has the desire to write, and whose words can touch another person in a meaningful way as part of our shared human experience is a writer. And by that definition, the majority of bloggers I have read over the years have been and continue to be writers. I continue to aspire to be a writer. And even if the court of popular opinion decides that will never happen, I will always be proud of being a blogger.

Well, Tribe? What do you think? What makes a writer?

Rock (and write) on,

The WB

“On With The Butter!”: A Book Review

On By Widow BadassIn Read Books, Retirement35 Comments
A wonderful resource for the retired person

Earlier this summer, Hekla Publishing reached out to me via ye olde blogge, to ask if I was interested in reviewing an about-to-be-released book : “On With The Butter! Spread More Living onto Everyday Life”, by Heidi Herman. And I absolutely was, being a recent retiree myself and a lover of all things dairy, especially butter. So I have been waiting ever since to receive my free copy (my only compensation for saying whatever I wanted to about it). Last week it finally arrived – yippee!

Imagine my disappointment that the only thing buttery in this book was a recipe for apple “butter”. JUST KIDDING! Actually, the apple butter recipe looks easy and intriguing – thanks for including it, Heidi!

The phrase “on with the butter” is an Icelandic saying that means, among other things, “carry on, keep moving”, and this book encourages retired people to do just that. In fact, this book would be a great resource for just about anybody worried about falling into a rut, retired or not.

I thought I had gathered a lot of ideas regarding adapting to and enjoying retirement (after all, I did a whole A-Z blogging challenge on just that topic), but this book has hundreds more!

Inspired by her mother’s zest for life, Heidi Herman has written the most comprehensive and handy dose of inspiration for anyone who has ever stared around their four walls and wondered what to do next.

The book contains 15 chapters full of ideas on how to “spread more living onto everyday life”. These ideas don’t demand a ton of money or Olympian fitness levels. Chapter titles remind us to “Enjoy the Simple Things”, “Taste Life”, “Explore Nature”, “Keep Learning”, and “Take the Scenic Route”…to name a few. Each chapter ends with “A Challenge Checklist” of activities to try, related to that chapter’s topic.

Probably most of all, I loved the stories of Heidi’s mother and her adventures. Heidi’s mother reminded so much of my own dear mother, whose motto was “the day I stop learning is the day I die”. These ladies could have been friends I think, egging each other on in their appetite for new and fun experiences.

At 239 pages from front to back, this book is a quick and easy read yet is jam-packed with ideas. You could just dive into whatever chapter strikes your fancy and start “spreading the butter” onto your life from there if you wanted to, without having to read the entire book first. But why would you want to do that? It’s such a fun book!

My only quibble with this book (as a Canadian reader…and it’s a minor one) is that it is written specifically for Americans. Most of the resources/locations listed in the book are American ones. However, I do feel it wouldn’t take too much imagination or effort to look for similar organizations or destinations in your own country, especially if you are familiar with internet searches.

I think this book would make a lovely gift for a just-about-to or newly-retired friend. Really though, this book is for anybody who would like a dose of inspiration and a handy reference of activities and challenges with which to keep the mind and body young and moving. On with the butter, everyone!

Rock on,

The WB

One Widow’s Ceiling Is Another Man’s Floor

On By Widow BadassIn Hmmm?, Move to Vancouver Island59 Comments

Humble apologies to Paul Simon, for riffing on his song title. This (see below) is a great song from a timeless, stellar album that I still listen to, 47 (What?!?! How did that happen?!) years later.

One Man’s Ceiling Is Another Man’s Floor

Lyrics:

There’s been some hard feelings here
About some words that were said
Been some hard feelings here
And what is more
There’s been a bloody purple nose
And some bloody purple clothes
That were messing up the lobby floor
It’s just apartment house rules
So all you ‘partment house fools
Remember: one man’s ceiling
Is another man’s floor
One man’s ceiling
Is another man’s floor

There’s been some strange goin’s-on
And some folks have come and gone
And the elevator man don’t work no more
I heard a racket in the hall
And I thought I heard a fall
But I never opened up my door
It’s just apartment house sense
It’s like apartment house rents
Remember: one man’s ceiling
Is another man’s floor
I tell you, one man’s ceiling
Is another man’s floor

And there’s an alley
In the back of my building
Where some people congregate in shame
I was walking with my dog
And the night was black with smog
When I thought I heard somebody
Call my name
Remember: one man’s ceiling
Is another man’s floor

© 1973 Words and Music by Paul Simon

I’ve been living on the island, in my new apartment home, for almost 3 months now. And, although not perfect, it is pretty damn good here. But as you might imagine, coming from my stand-alone aerie dominating the corner of a downtown block back in Ontario to being in the 2nd floor corner unit of 3 story apartment building has taken a bit of getting used to.

I have neighbours on 3 sides of me, and I’ve learned a lot about them in our time “together” so far.

Let me start at the beginning.

The first residents I met were the 2 young men (brothers) who are directly below my unit. They gave me a warm hello, welcoming me to the “community”, and admiring (at subsequent encounters) my shoes (Vans, tie-dyed) and my bag (Desigual) – both being very colourful and hippy-ish – as they are totally their vibe. They have a plaque on their door proclaiming “Far Out” in a 1970’s balloon-type font, for proof.

What can I tell you about these brothers? Well, they are fond of ye olde Wake and Bake ritual apparently, based on the smells wafting from their place. Any time of day, come to think of it. Mostly they have been surprisingly quiet, but occasionally they have friends over and get into the alcohol (as people do) and then the voices and the music rise in volume. I have dubbed them “The Party Bros”.

Directly above me on the top floor resides an older couple, whom I have yet to meet. However I feel like I am privy to their day-to-day lives through the lack of soundproofing between floors. I know which one is walking, where they are walking, and when they have their hyperactive grandchild(ren) over for the day/night. And especially when they are sliding open their balcony doors…it sounds like thunder; like they are moving heavy furniture; and my apartment actually shudders from this activity. I have dubbed them “The Stompy McStompersons”.

As a result of experiencing them in this way, I make sure to walk very lightly myself – on the balls of my feet – lest I inflict the same disturbance upon The Party Bros. I also open and close my balcony door sliders very gently. I am 100% convinced that the McStompersons are completely unaware that their activities can be so damn annoying loud noticeable, as they have no one living above them.

The next neighbour I met was an English lady who lived (has since moved back to England, with her hubs) on the first floor of my building. Let’s call her Lady Di. Lady Di was walking her dogs (not allowed here, I thought?) and waved up to me while I was sitting on my balcony. We got to chatting and she invited me over to her place for a socially-distant glass of (please bring your own) wine. Over wine, Lady Di proceeded to offer her condolences to me as apparently I live right next door to someone who is “starkers”. Let’s call her M.

M, a slight South Asian woman, has apparently had the police called on her multiple times due to her habit of singing and raging in the middle of the night in her apartment and in the parking lot. Sometimes alone, sometimes with the man she lives with. Can confirm all of the above. More on M, later.

Anyhoodle, back to Lady Di…I was invited back for another socially distant visit – this time a BBQ – and this time with her hubs in attendance as he was now back home for good, having finished with his job in Alberta. Hubs pounded back at least 1/2 a dozen beers during my 90 minute visit. Astonishing.

I felt the need to reciprocate the hospitality so invited them over to my place for an evening, before they left the building (and the country). Lady Di and Hubs arrived – him with a little cooler of beers, her with what was left of a box of wine, as the standard had been set to bring your own drinks – and our evening commenced.

Lady Di asked me what I thought about the legalization of marijuana. Weed and its odour is a common topic of discussion with just about all my neighbours, and all with reference to The Party Bros. I told her bluntly that I would rather be trapped in a room full of stoners than a room full of drunks, ANY DAY. Much less shouting, fighting and disharmony in general! Hubs immediately agreed and then added that he occasionally, inexplicably (really, queen!?!) descends into an uncontrollable rage when drinking. WHILE HE IS SITTING IN MY HOUSE. WITH A DRINK IN HIS HAND.

Gentle reader – remember how I mentioned on ye olde blogge previously how my dad was one of those guys too? Imagine how triggered I was by this confession.

Somehow the evening was got through without my place or self being trashed by the Hubs (who – full disclosure – behaved in an exemplary manner all evening). And now they are gone and I don’t have to ever explain why going forward he will be no longer be welcome in my home when drinking.

After Lady Di, the next neighbour I met was J. J lives on the 3rd floor and has the most amazing balcony garden, that also flies the Pride flag. I was looking forward to meeting J, as who doesn’t need more gay men in their life? My best male friends in the entire world are the most lovely couple, my former tenants, who have enriched my life beyond measure. In my opinion they set the standard for healthy relationship goals for anybody, no matter your orientation.

Back to J. J is unlike any gay man I’ve come across. In observing him around the complex I have to say that J “outheteros” any hetero male I’ve ever met, in terms of (lack of ) attention to dress and displaying uncouth behaviours while outside, on the grounds below my place. Behaviours such as yelling up to Mr. McStomperson details about his…um… “romantic” life, and hawking loogies and blowing snot rockets in the parking lot.

My hetero male readers are of course excluded from this generalization – refined, tasteful beings that you all are.

Next I met the neighbour directly across the hall from me. S is a salt-of-the-earth guy and H, his partner is a lovely young lady. S also had to bring up the weed smell and asked me what I thought of it. I told him truthfully that I enjoy occasionally partaking of the devil’s lettuce and that the smell doesn’t bother me. Truth be told, I like the smell. He also mentioned M and then told me that he was available if I ever needed any “help”. Any time. Day or night, I was just to knock at his door and he would be there for me.

Ummm, thanks, I think? Very nice offer. But WHY DID YOU FEEL THE NEED TO MAKE IT??? WHAT KIND OF PLACE HAVE I MOVED INTO?!?!?

S also expressed thanks to his god, upon meeting me, that finally there was another “normal” person living here. Fooled another one! Hehehe…

And finally: While my friend Joanne was visiting, I actually got to meet M, in the hallway outside of our respective doorways. We introduced ourselves, and I didn’t let on that I had already been warned by multiple neighbours about her cute-as-a-button little self. M proceeded to tell me about the former occupant of my place – a retired guy (physicist, I think she said) who was quite the loner, and who died in his (my) apartment. How long before anyone found him, one can’t help but wonder. Thankfully my apartment was completely renovated from top to bottom before I moved in…

With a glint in her eye, M said “That doesn’t bother you, does it?”

With a big smile on my face, I said “Not at all, Bitch! I had my mother come home to my place to die. That stuff doesn’t bother me.”

M then told me to be sure to let her know if things ever got loud at her place, and we parted. Bitch, they already have and you know it. Yeah, sure. This ain’t my first apartment rodeo and I’ve heard that song before from previous inconsiderate neighbours. It’s always the noisy ones who tell you to let them know if they are bothering you, and then you do, and nothing changes and you end up having to call the police on them anyways.

Different people have opined that I should speak to my neighbours or building management about my noise issues. I’ve thought about it (and I may yet feel compelled to do so), but so far I haven’t felt the need to take it to that level. I also do feel for apartment pariah M who, according to my neighbours, has very real mental health issues. She is apparently on her 3rd strike with the police and will be hauled away to the clink at the next transgression, if what my neighbours are gossiping to confiding in me is accurate. For now, my thinking is that these nuisance behaviours don’t happen all that often and are just a by-product of living in close quarters with others. Also, I’m retired, and can always take a nap if my sleep gets shorted and even if it doesn’t…hehehe!

Besides, then I wouldn’t have these stories to tell. 😉

Rock on,

The WB

Joanne Comes To Visit – The Gift That Keeps On Giving

On By Widow BadassIn COVID-19, Good Times, I Got Married, Move to Vancouver Island, Roadtripping, The Great Outdoors, Travel Badassery70 Comments

About 3 weeks ago now, I had my first houseguest to my new Island home: my friend Joanne, of Following a Bold Plan fame. It is not an exaggeration to say that the Vancouver Island bloggers I know were practically jumping out of their skins with excitement in anticipation of her arrival (yours truly, included).

Within minutes of her aircraft landing, we met up with Erica/Erika of Behind The Scenery, and were exploring Island View Beach.

Happy smiles! This will be a theme throughout.

We spent a delightful 2 days in the Victoria area, with Erica and Chuck as our exemplary tour guides. Donna, of Retirement Reflections, joined us for a day of exploring beaches…

Bloggers descending upon French Beach

Once back at home base (Chez Badass West), we set up a loose schedule of hikes and explorations. Donna, living relatively close by, joined us for as many as she could. The weather called for 2 days of full rain, but we didn’t let that us stop us from getting out there.

Smiling and waving hi, from a damp hike at Englishman River Falls
Another smiley but damp hike, at The Notch in Nanoose Bay

Then Donna had some family obligations to attend to on the weekend, and we continued to hike and explore on our own.

Joanne snapping photos at Neck Point Park, Nanaimo

A visit to Nanaimo wouldn’t be complete without seeing Saysutshun. And being that it was Joanne and I, you know we were going to get into kayaks at some point!

Smiling behind our masks (can’t you tell?) on the ferry to Saysutshun (aka Newcastle Island), for some kayaking fun.
Joanne in her happy place.
Joanne taking a break from paddling, to snap some shots.

The owner of the kayak/bike rental business on the island (Jeff) is a real character, as we found out. The lady who sold us the tickets to the ferry referred to him as “the man who owns no shirts”. Uh oh.

Laid back, super friendly Jeff is a throwback to the 1960s. We watched in amazement as he turned away at least 2 groups of customers who wanted to rent bikes from him. The first group was 2 guys who Jeff determined didn’t have enough time to experience the island by bike before they had to leave to pick up some friends at the Nanaimo airport. The second group was a family of 4 – Jeff opined after speaking with them that they would have more fun walking the trails than biking them, and thus that is what they did.

Ummm Jeff, can we have a word about your business practices please?

We were both so taken by this guy and his outsized personality. Wait, not out-sized but in fact perfectly sized for his out-sized physical self. See picture, below.

I asked if I could take his picture and put it on my blog.

Jeff: Sure you can! Uh, what’s a blog?

Next thing I knew, Jeff had his arm around me and Joanne was snapping our picture. Only after our 2 second encounter did I think: WTF did we just do?!?! There’s a pandemic going on!!!

Gentle readers, let this be a cautionary tale about how easily one’s guard can be let down…

So here we are many days later and I didn’t come down with The Covid, and I assume the same for Jeff. Dodged that bullet, thankfully. Why do I feel like a teenager who just “got away” with having unplanned and unprotected sex? What a world we live in now…

Jeff, our Hulk Hogan-ish purveyor of rental kayaks. He is best described as the love child of the famed wrestler and Tommy Chong. What the hell was I thinking???

On the (last) Monday of Joanne’s visit, we made good on a long-planned trip to visit Ann of The Unretired Life on Hornby Island. Donna and Erica were able to join us as well!

On Hornby Island, with our host Ann. Photo by Erica.
More smiles. Helliwell Provincial Park, Hornby Island

The next day was spent in a luxurious visit (also long planned) to the Grotto Spa at Tigh-Na-Mara, in Parksville. No pictures were taken due to spa policy but I did pick up a very pretty nail polish with my spa credit so here’s a photo of that. At $25/bottle, it had better be spectacular.

The photo doesn’t really do the microglitter justice. It is gorgeous. Message in a Bottle by Deborah Lippmann. The Pandemic Nail Salon approves of this purchase – see my IG posts for my adventures in doing my own dip nails. 🙂

In what seemed like the blink of an eye, it was the 2nd last day of Joanne’s visit, and our last hike…to Jack Point.

Donna, myself, and Joanne. Last hike (for this visit), at Jack Point – with Nanaimo in the background.
Refueled and rehydrated at Penny’s Palapa, a floating restaurant in the Nanaimo Harbour – a delightful après hike experience! Man, those were good margaritas and fish tacos…

For more photos of these adventures, please check out my IG account: @widowbadass.

So, why did I put The Gift That Keeps On Giving in the title of this post? Well, Joanne introduced me to her secret weapon for air travel and, as it turns out, drowning out noisy apartment neighbours – Bose noise-cancelling headphones! She let me try them on, and they work very well.

After only 3 hours of sleep the night before last (thanks to the Stompy McStompersons living above me and the Party Bros down below), I headed out to Best Buy to get my own pair. Thanks, Joanne! More about my “adventures” in apartment living in an upcoming post.

And they work great! Problem solved, for now…

Come back soon, Joanne! We all miss your smiling face (me, most of all)!

This last photo is just for Joanne 😉

There! I fixed it for you, Joanne

Apropos of nothing, today is the anniversary of my wedding to JD. If he was still alive, we would be married 10 years today. Or would we (still be married)? Hmmmm…

Rock on,

Your friendly neighbourhood Widow Badass

Hiking Jack Point – In Search of the Salmon Petroglyph

On By Widow BadassIn Good Times, See the Beauty, The Great Outdoors57 Comments

Yesterday morning I went out early to discover for myself a hike I had heard/read good things about from others, like my friend and fellow blogger: Donna. This hike is also listed in a recent book purchase – Seaside Walks on Vancouver Island by Theo Dombrowski. I’ll let the pictures and the captions do the talking, from here:

A great place to dive in and start exploring the seaside walks. The author says there is a petroglyph of salmon to be seen on the walk! You know I am not leaving until I find it.
View of the harbour city of Nanaimo, from the start of the seaside walk.
It’s starting to get spectacular out here!
Sandstone “carvings” all along the shore. Caused by salt crystals “growing” in the rock, according to a sign posted along the trail.
On the hunt for the petroglyph, checking out some carved out sandstone. Wait, what’s that in the distance?!?!
Could this rock be it?
Success! Thank you, Theo Dombrowski. 🙂
More weird and wonderful sandstone.
Yet another beautiful view from this trail.
At the very point of it all.
Watching the Tsawwassen ferry load, from my driftwood seat.
Last look back as I round the point.
And there she goes! Heading for the mainland.
There is plenty to eat on this trail should you forget to pack a snack. Sometimes I feel like Nanaimo-area is just one big blackberry bramble… 😉
Looks like it was a good hike. Someone’s feet had a lot of fun 😉
Back home, watching Jack Point leave my feet (and sandals!)
Very happy with this purchase so far! Hmmm…which walk should I do next? 🙂

And how was your (Canadian) long weekend? Do tell!

Rock on,

The WB

A Move During a Pandemic, Part 2 of 2

On By Widow BadassIn Good Times, Home Improvement, Move to Vancouver Island, See the Beauty71 Comments
Capturing how I feel about my move in one photo…@ Helliwell Provincial Park on Hornby Island

Hoo boy! It’s hard to sit down to ye olde blogge when there is so much to do and see but here I am, finally. I could write at least 5 separate posts on what’s been going on but dammit, the weather is too beautiful! I am understanding how a lot of bloggers take July and August “off” from their regular posting and resume blogging once again in September. If I was back in Ontario I’d be hunkered down in my air-conditioned place and only venturing out in the wee hours of the morning or after dark due to the extreme heat, giving me plenty of time to blog. But here on Vancouver Island, the more temperate climate begs one to spend as much time outdoors as possible!

Anyhoo, here’s an update on what’s been going on:

It took me a few weeks, but I was able to unpack all my stuff and make some sense of my new space. I am LOVING it here. Sure there are minor inconveniences to apartment living, like the heavy-footed upstairs neighbours, but overall I am very happy with, and comfortable in, my new home.

Balcony facing east
Balcony facing west. One of my favourite places to read a book, relax, enjoy a glass of wine…
Coming in off the balcony, into the living/dining area
Kitchen, as seen from the dining area
My bedroom
Spare/guest/art room – I’ve cleaned it up a bit since this picture was taken, at the final stages of getting unpacked/organized.
The bath

As of now, my hands are almost completely healed (from the bashing they took in assembling all the furniture I purchased to replace the stuff I left behind in Ontario), I have recovered somewhat from the exhaustion induced by the whole moving ordeal, and I am starting to really settle into AND enjoy my new life and all its perks.

Some of which, can be seen below!

Ann (The Unretired Life) at Helliwell Provincial Park, Hornby

I got to meet Ann, a fellow blogger, in real life (finally) at her beloved island of Hornby. Which is amazingly beautiful, by the way (as is Ann!).

And I was able to have another IRL meeting (again, finally) with yet another beautiful Vancouver Island blogger just yesterday – Jude – (Dr. Sock Writes Here) for a delightful walk around the lake at Westwood Lake Park.

Meeting people during these pandemic times can be a little unsettling, but we are all respectful of the need to maintain social distancing. Which means hugs are off the table, for now! Feels weird not to hug these ladies who I’ve known (virtually) for a few years now, but we do as we must.

Jude and I, thankful for the shady path around the lake

Of course, I am able to hang out (and hug) with members of my little “bubble”, my daughter and her family.

Saturday’s crabbing (and kayaking) adventures off the Nanaimo pier, at Maffeo Sutton Park

Life is definitely good. And I get to wake up every morning to this:

Sun rising over the mainland mountains

Yes, life is definitely good. And summer life on Vancouver Island is absolutely the best.

Rock on,

The WB

DO Go Chasing Waterfalls

On By Widow BadassIn Good Times, Move to Vancouver Island, See the Beauty, The Great Outdoors59 Comments

I am fed up to the gills with all things moving. Packing for a move, unpacking from a move, organizing new space, buying things for the new place, building furniture and storage solutions for the new place etc., etc. I still have a lot to do, but they are mostly little jobs (curtains, art etc.). All the big stuff is done and I am down to the little tweaks that will make my place more liveable. Hoorah!

And coincidental to my fed-up mood, the weather is fabulous. So you know what that means, right?

Time to explore my new neighbourhood!!! Specifically, the out of doors.

Yesterday I took the afternoon off to stroll down to the Departure Bay Beach area (check out my Instagram for those photos), and today was spent in search of a trail I could walk to.

One of the residents in my apartment complex tantalized me last week with a tale of going for a walk through the neighbourhood and ending up on a trail which included a waterfall! And today, I made it my mission to find out what she was talking about.

I had looked up local trails on my AllTrails app, and the Beach Estates Trail seemed to fit the description she had given me. It said I could access it from Departure Bay Road but I wanted to walk through my neighbourhood, like my neighbour did.

A short walk later, passing by many lovely homes, and I was on a public access trail that took me down to the shore of Departure Bay.

Emerging onto the shore, close to the ferry docks.
One of the large weathered logs often found on the shorelines of BC

I walked along the rocky shore for a bit, looking for access to the trail. Which was easily found. Or so I thought. Immediately I entered a lush paradise.

Do you know where you are? You’re in the jungle, baby!

Well-maintained cliffside steps and stairs
Cool tree trunk

It was a beautiful walk, but where was the waterfall? I decided to check AllTrails to see where I was on the trail.

I’m the blue dot. Not even on the trail yet!!! Could this be right?

I persevered. Onwards!

Continuing my climb up the cliffside. Not a difficult trail at all. Good thing ‘cos I only had Birkenstocks on my feet.

And then suddenly….

There it was! THE WATERFALL.

I had to be on the trail now, right?

Yup, on the trail now!
Not too shabby, for being right in town.

I continued on the trail and within moments I was out on the street, and at the beginning of it all.

Trail Head

And an hour and twenty minutes later, I was back home. I’m so thrilled to have such easy access to all this gorgeous nature, without even having to get in my car. Walking to a local trail on the regular was a big part of my former life in Ontario and I am so happy and grateful to have a similar experience here, at my new Vancouver Island home.

Do you have a local trail you can access easily for a quick dose of Vitamin Nature?

Rock on,

The WB

A Move During a Pandemic, Part 1 of 2

On By Widow BadassIn COVID-19, Move to Vancouver Island77 Comments

On May 28, I left Ontario by boarding the first of two planes to get to my new home on Vancouver Island. I had been planning this move for about 18 months, and the pandemic had initially thrown me for a loop. Back in mid-March I thought perhaps my move would not go ahead as planned due to travel and quarantine restrictions. As the initial weeks went by and I sat glued to the news, I began to realize that my move could go forward so I was off to the races, again!

In short order I had secured an apartment, a mover, and a shipper for Edward the 3rd , and I began sorting and packing my stuff in earnest, once more.

On May 26, during a period of unseasonable high heat and humidity (!), my movers arrived and did a stellar job of denuding my home of its things. (Can you believe it was snowing only 2 weeks prior? Typical Ontario weather roller-coaster!) I felt quite bad for them to be working so hard in the 33C heat. I cranked the A/C and made sure there was plenty of ice-cold bottled water in the fridge. And then I got out of their way.

Have you ever seen a more neatly packed truck?
‘Til we meet again, on Vancouver Island!

My friend Joanne very kindly offered to take this newly-homeless person in, and we enjoyed each other’s (and husband Gilles) company to the utmost until it was time to go to the airport. One teary goodbye later, and after breezing through security, I was faced with these weird images of the usually bustling Pearson airport.

Never have I ever seen these screens so devoid of flights.
Part of me finds this eery. The other part wishes the airport was always this empty of people.

While flying, we passengers had to have our masks on at all times. Every middle seat (on 3 seater rows) was unsold, to help us distance somewhat during the flight. I had no one else in my row. A win under any circumstances! 😉

Good morning, Ontario! And au revoir!
Different airport (Calgary). Same lack of people.

The plane to Nanaimo was smaller, with only 2 seats per row. Again, the seat beside each passenger was deliberately left unsold, for social distancing. IT. WAS. GLORIOUS.

While I took the picture this propeller was busily spinning away yet this shot makes it look like it was not working. It was! Honest!
This planet we inhabit is absolutely breath-taking.
Approaching Vancouver Island. Propeller still working.

After settling in (for now) with my dear daughter and her man, it was time to sign my lease and finally see my new home-to-be, in real life.

The living/dining room space (and balcony) of my newly renovated 2nd floor apartment.
The galley-style kitchen, looking into the dining area.
The bath.
Yes! That is a sliver of ocean/mountain view as seen from my balcony.
View of Departure Bay from nearer the edge of the property (which ends in a treacherous cliff, so no safe water/beach access). The mountains in the distance are mainland B.C.

I’m just thrilled with this apartment, so far! I feel that I really lucked out. It’s a 2 bedroom. I didn’t include any bedroom photos as they are just empty rooms with a window and a closet, each. Easy enough to imagine.

And now I wait – not entirely patiently – for my belongings (including Edward) to catch up to me here. Stay tuned for Part 2!

Rock on,

The WB

My Last Ontario Blog Post?

On By Widow BadassIn Artistic Endeavours, COVID-19, Move to Vancouver Island84 Comments

I’m sitting in my almost empty dining room, sipping coffee, listening to the last pair of my home’s curtains spinning in my washing machine, and watching the snow blow past my window. YES. SNOW. The second snowfall in 3 days. IT’S MAY 11, people.

As if it’s not already hard enough for me (and others) to remember what day of the week it is, I am having trouble remembering what damn month I’m in. Looks more like late March or early April to me. If this is Mother Nature’s way of getting people to remain in isolation indoors, it’s working!

In 2 weeks and 1 day the movers will be pulling up to my door to take away all of my worldly goods to my new apartment in Nanaimo, British Columbia. I feel pretty calm (I know; I am surprised too), and confident that I am ahead of schedule in the packing department, therefore I am taking the time for a short blog post. If this means the Universe will now smite me because of these feelings, well…so be it.

Seriously though, Universe. I’m not at all being smug and thus smite-worthy. By no means. Nothing to see here. Please move along. Please!

All my curtains are down, washed and mostly packed away. (I have 11 big windows in my apartment so this was not a small job). Extra furnishings I didn’t want to take with me have gone to new homes. Artwork is off the walls. It’s getting very echo-y in here.

A lot of my things are already packed or staged for packing. A lot of my things I have decided are no longer going to be my things going forward, and I’ve said my goodbyes to them. I’m living out of boxes as far as clothing is concerned. My walk-in closet has been emptied.

The only room as yet untouched is the kitchen.

Art supplies have been put away (again!) and repacked, for realz this time. The art I have created these past weeks in pandemic quarantine is going or has already gone to new homes.

I painted these 3 in the style of British artist Yvonne Coomber, during the course of the pandemic. I see more of these in my future. They are such happy paintings, and fun (albeit messy) to create. Think of Dexter’s Kill Room. That was pretty much my set-up, to paint these.
My first attempt. It wasn’t planned but apparently I was channeling hollyhocks because that is all I see in the finished painting.
2nd painting – I wanted to put water in the background. Think of peeking through the dune grasses for this one. The flowers are more abstract, and less recognizable as a certain type.
3rd painting. I find with this style of painting that MORE (not less) is definitely MORE. I loved going all in, with the flowers.

I’m itching to do at least one more of these – this time one for me. For my new home. With mountains in the background, and an ocean instead of a lake.

But for now I will only dream. Because I am NOT unpacking my art supplies yet again.

That would really be asking to be smitten- wouldn’t it now, Universe?

Rock on,

The WB