I was up with the sun every morning, walking the beach and boardwalk.
We did an island tour one day – to see the wild, eastern coast of Barbados.
Sunsets were also a good time to be strolling on the beach. Usually on the way to dinner at one of the many great restaurants near us.
Rock on,
The WB
For me, the world has become a much scarier place since January 20th. Here in Canada, I am disturbed daily by the things happening south of our border.
It’s hard not to feel powerless at this time. However, the good news is that people are not taking this shit lying down. Nosirree! The Women’s March has started something great – something that promises to continue in other marches and protests. So there’s hope.
For my own mental health, and maybe for yours too – I have decided to round up a listing of things that excited or inspired me this week. Something to change my focus from obsessing solely on all that is going south*, south of the border and other places. Like an online gratitude journal of sorts.
So here goes – the inaugural, “inaugurally-inspired” post:
However, lately I have noticed the silvering is accelerating. Excited!!!! I can notice the silver strands quite clearly in my hair’s part now. It didn’t photograph so well otherwise I’d show you. I am sick of touching-up roots at my temples. I think the time may be right to let it grow out au naturel and see what my real hair really looks like. I may decide to go back to colouring for a bit and try again later. Or I might not. Stay tuned.
Rock and Resist on,
The WB
*That Canadians like Kellie Leitch and Kevin O’Leary are threatening to bring to our great country as well.
I have been CEO of Everything for a little over 3 years now and life has never been better for me.
When I heard about this book, co-written by Gail Vaz-Oxlade and Victoria Ryce, I knew I had to read it.
Ms. Ryce I was not acquainted with, but I have been a fan of Gail’s shows for years and still watch her whenever she pops up on the TV – ‘Til Debt Do Us Part, Princess, Money Moron. Her advice and delivery on money and life never gets old.
If I wanted to be a smart ass, I would just use 9 words to state my review of this book:
THEY NAILED IT. I LIVED IT. GO BUY IT.
Gail had been divorced more than once and Victoria lost her husband (like me, also to lung cancer). Each woman combines and brings their own perspectives to being unexpectedly or expectedly single and how to proceed from there.
Having not only been both divorced and widowed, I was completely engrossed by and resonated with everything these women had to say. They were describing my thoughts, my emotions, my experiences, my decisions. The advice they give is SPOT ON.
They even warn you how you will be perceived by others in your newly single state. Hint: some women will either drop you from their circle of couples or give you the fish eye if you so much as acknowledge their men are in the room. Brace yourself for killer-death rays if their men acknowledge you are in the room.
They didn’t cover how men will treat your newly single state in the book so let the WB tell you there may some surprises in store there as well. Some of your men friends will want to be genuinely helpful and others will want to help themselves, if you know what I mean. Just be on your guard with them all until they prove themselves to be honourable. You will spare yourself some nasty shocks that way.
Gail and Victoria urge newly minted CEOs of Everything to look for creative ways to replace missing employees i.e. stuff your SO used to handle. I would like to add to their sage advice that a good contractor is worth his weight in gold, if there are major projects to be completed at your C-Suite (home). Your contractor will organize and run herd on the trades needed to complete the job, freeing you to keep doing what you need to be doing to keep the lights on. A good contractor will fight for you to get the job done to your satisfaction and it is sad but true that some of the trades won’t listen to your complaints but will hop-to if your contractor so much as blinks. Yes. Even in 2017. Even though you are the client and ultimately paying the bills.
The ladies wrap up the book by urging the CEOs of Everything to pay it forward. Which I have tried to do in the past and will continue to do in the future. I had been told by friends I needed to write a book about what I’ve learned and now, well….thanks for nothing, Gail and Victoria!!! 😉
The book has been written and not by me.
Rock on,
The WB
How’s everybody doing so far in 2017?
Your friendly neighbourhood WB is trucking along, counting the days till she boards the plane to Barbados at the beginning of February. Nah, not really – although it is a constant cheering thought at the back of my wee brain…hehehe!
I am (really, truly) managing to be more active however! I had a plan to be walking daily, but high winds combined with temperatures in the minuses kept me indoors more than I would have liked. So I expanded my plan to include yoga and barre exercises, thanks to my collection of DVD workouts. And, once a week I attend a yoga class in real life; ditto for barre. The stretching makes my muscles hum and I feel so wonderful and wonderfully relaxed that I don’t understand why I don’t make this a daily part of life. Hopefully this is the year that changes.
And this is the year that I devote to artistic pursuits. This month I’ve made some changes to my studio (aka laundry room), moving my big adjustable sit/stand desk from my office, and setting up a much smaller desk that was given to me, in its place. It’s great to have a dedicated surface for drawing and painting, and not to have to share it with computer activities.
My year-long study of the mandala has begun and I have started my first-ever art journal.
January is the month of the Void, in Mandala Magic 2017.
To me the Void is a very welcoming place, a resting place, a place to rejuvenate and grow strong again. Some of my fellow Mandala Magicians are not happy working with the Void. I think I can understand that. I am sure I will come up against Mandala stages that will be difficult or scary for me, as the Void is for others in our group.
One of the Void ideas that came to me was a drawing involving the Hindu goddess Kali and the Void.
In my head I see a full drawing of Kali with the Void as her womb, as well. I also see the Om symbol and the Void together in another – Om being the primordial noise, the first sound to come out of the Void.
So far I am not doing much journalling in my art journal. Using it more to capture images from my brain. I still have half a month to go on this exploration of the Void so perhaps the words will come to me yet.
I feel like I am living in the Void quite a bit this month…very content to stay in my cozy abode, alone with my thoughts and ideas, dreaming and scheming and napping the month away. Resting and gestating and amazingly not feeling the least bit guilty for spending an inordinate amount of time not being productive, but instead mostly just “being”.
Rock on,
The WB
My beautiful country turns 150 years old this year. I have been wondering what I could do in this special year to celebrate/commemorate the milestone. I was around when Canada turned 100, though at age 7 there wasn’t a whole lot I remember about it, other than that catchy Bobby Gimby song.
And Expo 67, in Montreal. Not that I visited but boy, we sure heard about it in school. I recall there was a mobile unit that toured the country’s schools, giving us a mini-version of it along with other Centennial stuff.
I’m not likely to be around for Canada turning 200. Or if I am, I’ll be too damn old to do much more than watch others celebrate.
SO THIS IS IT, WB. NOW WHAT ARE YOU GONNA DO ABOUT IT?
I once had a baby on Canada Day – the lovely Mizz J – but I can’t keep dragging that up as my commitment to/celebration of this country all these years later. Or can I? Hmmmm…
I have been stewing away on this for about a month now. Then this morning I heard a DJ on my local (rock, what else?) station mention that Parks Canada was handing out free passes to all National Parks to celebrate the sesquicentennial. EUREKA! Maybe I could visit all the National Parks in my province of Ontario as at least one way of me celebrating Canada 150?
I hopped on Ye Olde Interwebs and quickly ordered my pass from the Parks Canada site. Then I checked out which National Parks were located in Ontario.
Only 6 – 5 within an easy day’s drive (or less) of my usual stomping grounds – totally doable, amiright?
OK, OK – so not exactly the stretchiest goal I’ve ever committed to, but that’s not what I am trying to do here. Part of me thinks it would be so cool to hit every National Park in Canada this year, but that objective is not realistic for this (still) working woman.
I think I’ve only ever been to one – maybe two – of these Ontario parks so far in my life. For shame, for shame! Shit, I realize I have probably been to more National Parks outside of Ontario than in it.
I’ve been very close to some of them, driven by others…but actually making a point of visiting the ones in my own province? Nope.
So 2017 is the year this is gonna change.
Rock on,
The WB
I hope everyone had a restful, meaningful and thoughtful holiday this year!
Although I tend not to take any additional days off during the “season” due to the nature of my work (cows don’t know it’s Christmas), the week between Christmas and New Year’s Eve is generally quieter and I can get a fair bit of catching up and tidying done in my office. And thinking about the projects and plans for the next few months while the phone is not ringing.
Outside of work, I use this time to ruminate (cow pun!) on the past year and sharpen up my plans for the new.
On my lunch break, I tried to open up my 10 Year Plan spreadsheet a few days back to review it and add some stuff and IT. WASN’T. THERE. This led to much (inner) screaming and (outer) hair pulling and cursing.
I checked everywhere the damn thing could possibly be instead…every folder in Dropbox, every folder on my laptop…it was nowhere to be found. Fuckity fuckity fuck fuck fuck – to quote a friend.
Then I got home and checked my iMac. Again nothing. I resigned myself to having to create it all over again…from memory (OH SHIT). Then I had a brain wave when I remembered that the last time I opened it up, I was using the for-Mac version of Excel on my home computer. I opened the program and went to Recent…sure enough it was listed! With trembling fingers I called it back up. Success!!!!
Somehow, it had gotten saved to iCloud and, in so doing, the Mac gods removed it from Dropbox instead of making a copy to save (like the PC gods would have done). Hmmmm. I kinda get why this happens…so you don’t have multiple, different versions floating around…but hell-to-the-no…I am not a fan of this enforced document control. I would much rather have multiple versions (backups of backups ad infinitum!) and I WILL MAKE SURE OF THIS FROM NOW ON. Whew.
In happier news, I finally completed my Flower of Life mandala between Christmas and New Years. I am beyond pleased with how it turned out.
I kept going back and forth on how to create this. I wanted to use my new acrylic inks but felt I needed to use my watercolour pencils for the effects I wanted to achieve. In the end I used both – water colour pencils for the actual inner “flower”, and acrylic inks and black fine-point marker for the rest.
New years Eve at Chez Badass was a quiet dinner spent with good friends. New Years Day will be Gourmetten – Part 2, with the family.
Looking ahead to the new year, I have some plans, natch. I won’t call them resolutions but they are definitely plans.
Such as:
That’s about it for me. The sun is shining and a walk outdoors is calling! If you want to share your plans for 2017 in the comments, I am ALL EYES.
Rock on,
The WB
Merry Christmas ya filthy animal dear olde savings and loan blogge!
Oh my, it has been a fun coupla days around Chez Badass – thanks to birthing new traditions, my kids, sparkling cider and help from my badass cousins overseas!
Before I begin this tale, let me fill you in on the origin of the Seashell Jesus, whose picture shall grace this blog in mere moments.
Remember when I told you about cleaning up the hoard and shared a picture of the outdoor storage area? Well, one of the only items that survived the purge of that space was a very colourful, homemade-looking old-schooly picture of Jesus, adorned with seashells. I have no idea of the provenance of this picture – it could have even belonged to one of the many tenants that abandoned their junk belongings on the property – but I just couldn’t find it in me to fling it into the dumpster (#4 or 5, can’t remember which). So Seashell Jesus, as he came to be known, ended up hanging in my old kitchen for about a year.
When it came time to renovate the kitchen, Seashell Jesus survived yet another purge and ended up in a box of other wall “art”, in the boiler room of my building. Until Christmas Eve 2016, that is.
I had planned for weeks already to try a new tradition for my family. The Dutch meal of “gourmetten.” In researching how to pull this off, I came across the following article – Gourmetten” A “gezellige” evening of classic Dutch dining Very funny and tongue-in-cheek. The author claims that Jesus and his disciples actually “gourmetted” the last supper and there is a picture in the article to prove it. When I told my daughter Mizz J about this, she said Seashell Jesus needed to be part of our Christmas Eve meal. So up from the basement he rose…
When I shared these photos on Facebook to my Dutch cousins, they were not to be outdone.
Suffice it to say, much Facebook merry was made over Jesus being sent on to our various homes to partake of gourmetten.
Meanwhile, in real life, our meal was fantastic.
Before the food coma took a full hold, we cleaned up supper and then got artsy-crafty with it.
After a relaxing day spent on the couch (mostly), Christmas dinner was a clean-out-the-fridge stir fry – liberally doused with left-over satay sauce and served over rice. “Sooooo gooooood”, to borrow a phrase from my Amsterdam cousin.
And thus, new traditions are born!
Rock your merry little selves on,
The WB
Ever have one of those days when you try to do something good and it just doesn’t work out like you thought?
This happened to me on Saturday.
I was crafting my post about my mom’s death and jumped onto Facebook to grab a photo from one of my albums. I happened to come across a post in my feed from one of the community groups I belong to. In it, a lady was asking for help for her husband – a custodian at a church that is a neighbour of mine. The church snowblower had died and she was asking if anyone knew how to fix it as last night’s snow was too much for hubby to shovel.
My first thought was one of total schadenfreude – I will not lie. During the fall/winter that my husband was sick and eventually died, the snow came fast and deep and early on. It was a record season for the number of days of uninterrupted snow on the ground. JD and I used to do the shoveling ourselves and now it was all left to me. I didn’t have time to try to find someone to help me during his sickness and dying and during the aftermath of his death. Many the night and morning I had to run over to the building to clear the steps, the wheelchair ramp, the sidewalks (it’s on a corner lot) and one of the parking lots (the tenant at that time got their lot plowed out so I was left with only one to clear, thankfully). Yep, just me and my trusty snow shovel. And when the plows went by and threw the stuff from the road onto the sidewalks and driveways, I had to go back and do it all over again. Mr. Custodian would watch me silently as he was snow-blowing out the walks on the church property.
(One day during that crazy winter after an especially fierce blizzard resulting in thigh-high drifts, one of my fellow downtown landlords came up the street with his tractor and plowed out my lot. I’ll admit to this: I stood on the sidewalk and sobbed hot tears of relief, unabashedly.)
Yep, I thought on Saturday morning, dead snowblower looks good on ya.
Then I gave myself a stern talking to. Told myself I was better than these thoughts; not to sink down to this level. Got my ass quickly dressed and out the door, shovel in hand, to help.
I approached Mr. Custodian and introduced myself as his neighbour from across the street, told him I read the Facebook post, and offered my services.
After a long pause, he said, “I told my wife I needed someone who knew how to fix a snowblower.”
Me, cheerfully pointing to shovel in other hand: “Well, I can’t do that but I certainly can shovel snow so show me where you’d like me to start.”
After another pause, I was directed to a patch further down the sidewalk, and began to shovel. Another fellow appeared who introduced himself as the church treasurer. We cleared the sidewalk together. Mr. Custodian tried to start a conversation.
Him: “So you rent upstairs over there?”
Me: “No, I own the building and yes, I live upstairs.”
Him, pointing to my tenants’ unit, the downstairs Museum: “What do you think of them?”
Me: “I think they are great; happy to have them in the building. Have you been to visit?”
Him: “They hosted our church for coffee a few weeks back. Not a place I’d ever go into. Do they get many visitors? I don’t see much traffic going in there.”
Me, brightly: “Well, actually many people are very interested in going there. They get visitors from all over the world and host large tour groups from time to time.”
Then Mr. Treasurer decides to chime in and change the subject: “Nice the building is finally getting fixed up. The fellow that ran it before didn’t do much.”
Me, smile becoming more and more fixed: “You mean my husband who died? He had a mental illness that prevented him from making those changes. And he had no money. But I own it now, and I have been spending the money to get it fixed up.”
Mr. Custodian: “Well, I guess we should shovel your place now.”
Me, still smiling: “Not necessary, thanks. I have people to do that now and they should be around any minute. What’s next? Let’s do the main entrance steps and then the parking lot. Between the 3 of us it should go quickly.”
Them, variations on a theme of: “Oh no, that’s OK. This is good enough. Main entrance doesn’t need to be done. There’s a guy coming to do the driveway. Thanks for your help.”
So off I trudged, back to my place – thoroughly pissed by the entire encounter. I just wanted to shovel some fucking snow to help my neighbour out and ended up feeling under scrutiny and like I had to defend both my tenants and my late husband to these guys.
Later I came back downstairs and saw they were indeed shoveling the main entrance stairs.
“Hey!” I called out, blood boiling: “I wanted to help with that!”
“Oh no, that’s OK” came the reply.
Fine – fuck this, I said to myself – my low-level thoughts making a spectacular and rapid-fire comeback.
Then I got mad at myself for letting them get to me; for going low instead of high.
I can’t understand why more people don’t take up church. It clearly brings out the best in people.
Rock on,
The WB
P.S. Today, a couple of hours after I posted this entry I saw a thank you to me posted on the Facebook community group by the custodian…or maybe it was his wife. Apparently I helped “a lot”. At this point I don’t give a fuck about the snow shoveling any more. I hope I helped open some minds and hearts. Including my own. Looking for a Christmas miracle. 🙂
The world lost my badass momma one year ago today.
She had been diagnosed with Non-Hodgkin’s Lymphoma about 15 years before. Most of the 15 ensuing years were high quality. Mom experienced several remissions and used that time to enjoy life to the fullest with her second husband, who she met at a grief class about a year after Dad died. They travelled and camped, and generally enjoyed retired life together.
But eventually the cancer came back with a vengeance and Mom got sicker and sicker.
In the summer of 2015 the doctor advised that we move up the date of my sister’s wedding and host it closer to home, to ensure Mom could attend.
So I volunteered to host the wedding at my building and what a joyous occasion it was!
Shortly after this Mom made the decision to not proceed with any more chemotherapy. She had had enough, and it was only making her sicker at this point anyway.
Soon she was too ill for her husband to manage so I offered for her to come to stay with me. My newlywed sister made arrangements to take compassionate leave, to be with Mom while I worked and did homework (yes, I was still plugging away at my MBA that fall). And my far flung sister was ready to board a plane and come as soon as she was called, which was a short while later.
All parties agreed to the new plan for Mom and thus we made it happen. A stair lift was installed so Mom could get into and out of my second-floor abode, and we transferred her medical care to my city. Bedding arrangements (and bedrooms) were created to accommodate everyone.
Mom worried about getting into hospice care in a new city. This was something she was considering when living with my stepdad. When I asked if she really wanted to go to hospice when the time came the truthful answer was no. I told her she didn’t ever have to go there – she could die at her new home, my place. She said she would like that, so that is how we proceeded.
What a wonderful, awful fall that was – the fall of 2015. The fall of our mom’s dying. Mom had a typical Dutch practical attitude about her impending death. It didn’t bother her and she didn’t want to be a bother to anybody else. She hoped her death happened at a “convenient” time for everyone, so as not to interfere with any Christmas or vacation plans. We joked a lot with her about these wishes. It was freeing for Mom to be able to speak and joke about her dying with us. It was not something her husband could bear to hear, understandably so.
Mom’s sister, My Tante T asked to come over from the Netherlands for a last visit with her sister. This visit was welcomed by all, especially Mom of course.
We took the ladies out shopping. Mom had an ultralight collapsible wheelchair at this point which made it possible for her to get out more easily. They had a lot of fun looking for cute clothes at the local mall. This was tiring but also joyful for Mom. She loved getting out while still able, and picked up a couple of pretty tops to wear for hospital appointments and when receiving visitors.
I had bought tickets to take Mom to see a live performance of the Jersey Boys many months back, and we were able to get an extra ticket for her sister at the last moment. Seating had to be changed to accommodate the wheelchair. Tante T also had to change her flight so she could attend the show. A lot of changes but we were so glad it all came together. Mom had wanted to see this show for many, many years.
Tante T went backstage at intermission and somehow convinced the Jersey Boys cast to come out to say hi to Mom after the performance. What a woman!
During all this time, Stepdad faithfully visited his wife every day.
We treated Mom to pedicures and massages and accompanied her to her cancer clinic appointments. We tried to tempt her with all her favourite foods but her once hearty appetite was quite diminished. Palliative care nurses and personal workers visited many times and provided Mom with a hospital bed and special equipment to assist with bathing. Spiritual care was provided as well, at Mom’s request. We were trained to give Mom her medication intravenously, as the end drew near and her discomfort increased.
Mom loved having visitors and all were welcome to come whenever they wanted to see her.
Death and dying are not easy for anybody. By the 17th of December we were all exhausted as Mom was very restless, day and night. A night nurse was brought in to allow us some shuteye. Mom passed away in the wee hours of the 18th, partway through his shift. We were all at her bedside when it happened.
I was grateful for all of the resources and comforts provided to Mom, and for so many visits from friends and family. It was a blessing to be able to keep her at home as she wanted.
My favourite memory of this time is of being called into Mom’s bedroom one night by my sister. Mom was crying and wanted to talk to me. I asked her why she was crying and she said, “I am so happy and I can’t stop crying. It is wonderful to be here surrounded by my family. I feel so completely loved, like I have never felt in my whole life. I’m not crying because I am sad or afraid to be dying. I’m crying from happiness.”
I think of that night almost daily. If there is a way to “do” death and dying correctly, I think that as we came together as a family during that horrible, wonderful fall of 2015, we just might have nailed it.
Rock on,
The WB
Fake it ’til you can make it – Chez Badass: Christmas 2016 Edition
Jingle Bell Rock on,
The WB
