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
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
Fake it ’til you can make it – Chez Badass: Christmas 2016 Edition
Jingle Bell Rock on,
The WB
I think I have mentioned on ye olde blogge already this year that I am having a hellacious time getting into the Christmas vibe, spirit, what-have-you.
Nothing has really changed. But today instead of wallowing in a sweaty funk while barking like a seal due to a chest cold, I did make up my annual (3 years and counting!) Badass Christmas letter and put my cards together for mailing out tomorrow. YAY ME! (OK, still was in sweaty funk and barking…but got my cards done too!!!!)
I have always loved giving and receiving cards at Christmas, and actually enjoy reading people’s Christmas letters.
Even when the letter is full of humble-bragging or outright bragging! So far I have received only one like that and it was many years ago, from someone I am no longer acquainted with. A lot of fun was had mocking it with my friends as it epitomized why Christmas letters have such a bad rap. I almost wanted to keep up the acquaintance just to keep getting those letters. I said almost.
Anywhoodle, I love the annual Christmas letter/card tradition. If that makes me old-fashioned or weird or both, so be it.
What I didn’t expect to happen was this: as I finished off the letter and addressed and filled envelopes, I could feel my mood lighten considerably. I’m not saying I’m ready to decorate the tree (still naked despite being up for weeks, by the way) or throw a massive open house party (although that was/is my dream, but now slated for 2017) but I think I will get through the season without having to white-knuckle it.
And that, my friends, is HUGE. Or YUGE. Or however you want to say it.
Rock on,
The WB
Dear Bloggie,
I picked up the tickets tonight for the winter get-away Mizz CJ and I have planned, in Barbados. Wheee!
This is a special trip to commemorate our being friends for 50 years. We met in Grade 2, you see.
My daughter Mizz J and I had such a lovely time there in January of this year that I resolved to try my best to make an annual getaway to somewhere warm – if not Barbados, then somewhere that didn’t need a coat, boots and mittens – every winter from now on.
When Mizz CJ heard about our trip she thought it would be perfect to celebrate our milestone there, in 2017. Of course I agreed!
We have a week booked at a small family-run hotel on the beach in Hastings.
Looking forward to those early morning ocean dips and laying under a palm tree devouring a good novel while ocean breezes play with my hair.
I have the Bridgetown weather (along with Amsterdam’s and that of my area) displayed every time I go to the Weather Network webpage. It is 30°C there. Every. Damn. Day.
Last week, on one day it read 28°C. I almost fell off of my chair when I saw it. I wonder if the Bajans grab for their sweaters when the temperature dips down like that.
I probably would, once I got acclimatized.
Rock on,
The WB
Dear Blog,
I am pissed. The W network started showing Christmas movies already.
It’s bad enough that the stores were stocking Christmas decor items long before Hallowe’en was even on most peoples’ minds, but now this???
From what I remember as a child Christmas was not really on anybody’s radar (via advertising/radio/TV shows) until around 2 weeks before the actual date. I realize it was a different time. People didn’t have access to credit like they do today, and Christmas shopping could not usually be done well in advance – at least not at my house.
People actually saved up to buy things using CASH – imagine that! Or they did without – imagine THAT, dear Blog! So, people like my parents (most people) had to wait until they had the money to “splash out” at Christmas time, and that was not until December, at the earliest.
So the two weeks leading up to Christmas day was when the real “rush” began. Exciting-looking packages were quickly whisked away to secret places while we kids were supposedly otherwise distracted, and yummy foods started appearing in the cupboards and in the fridge. About a week before Christmas the decorating began, with a real tree brought inside and the box of old glass ornaments brought down from the attic. My sisters and I spent many hours creating hand-coloured paper chains and snowflakes with which to decorate the sparsely furnished living room of the old farm house we grew up in.
All of this “beauty” (to my child’s eyes) was taken down on the day after New Year’s Day, to lie waiting in a box in the attic again until mid-December of the following year.
You never had time to get sick of the season because it was here and gone in a flash. Christmas music pouring from the radio did not lose its freshness and was welcomed like a long-lost friend for the short duration that it was on the airwaves. We loved it when the local paper printed out the lyrics to favourite carols so we could sing them together as a family, in the evenings when there was nothing worth watching on the 2 channels we could bring in on our antenna.
Looking back, we didn’t have much and yet didn’t feel the lack, because we weren’t inundated for weeks or months with images and shows depicting the perfectly decked-out, glossy Christmas that supposedly everyone else was having. That we could have too, if we went out and bought it using borrowed money. Like what is happening now.
I do get it, dear Blog, that retail needs to make money. Christmas, being such an emotionally-loaded celebration, is especially good at parting people from their money (real or credit). My dad owned a store for about 5 years when I was a tween, then teen. In fact it was my first job, helping out on Saturdays in the Dutch import store and delicatessen that we owned. My dad used to say that all year long the store broke even and only in December did he make his profit for the year. So I understand why retail is totally behind growing and milking the season for all it’s worth.
And it makes good financial sense for TV networks to produce and air Christmas shows to attract advertising dollars from retailers trying to maximize their own profit potential, so they are all for an expanded Christmas season as well.
But where does that leave me and others, dear Blog, who are Christmas-weary by mid-December? The expanded season does not make me want to spend more money. In fact, it does the opposite. Me and mine are not even doing presents this year.
Mom’s death a week before Christmas last year meant we did not celebrate a typical Christmas season or day. Her illness and death diminished Christmas to some nice little event that was happening to everyone else, not us. Not the megalithic be-all to end-all celebration that is has become for most. And it was still fine. Because we were together as a family, celebrating Mom and being united in our grief.
And that’s Christmassy enough for me, dear Blog.
Rock on,
The WB
Sunday brought us the Temperance Movement show at the Toronto Festival of Beer. Still very hot and humid, but thankfully mostly overcast so walking around outside was that much more bearable.
Mizz J and I left for Toronto as late as possible. Timing was perfect actually. We arrived about an hour before the band went on, which left us just enough time to spend our beer tokens (came with admission, along with a sampling mug) on tasting some new libations:
And time to fuel up, thanks to the the Fidel Gastro food truck:
Everyone has a VW hippie van, it seems. I see these things everywhere. Except my driveway, that is. 🙁
We checked out the merch tent, of course. But alas, as with Macca, the t-shirts did not inspire me to get out my wallet. How hard is it to design an attractive band shirt, I ask you? Apparently too hard for either of these artists…sigh. Actually there was a nice shirt design (rainbow-y, psychedelic-looking) at the Paul McCartney concert…but it only came in kids’ sizes. What does this say about my taste???
At least the band did not disappoint:
After a great show, it was back on the Go train to the car, then home.
And that is how to pace one’s self to get through 3 musical events over 4 steamy, energy-sapping days.
Rock on,
The WB
Since Thursday Mizz J and I have been on a bit of a marathon, musically-speaking.
When not working, doodling in the drywall dust that covers every surface of my home, or obsessively watching Die Antwoord videos (Don’t ask, I can’t explain it. I can’t even figure out what they are rapping about half the time. In fact I understand the English lyrics in equal measure to the Afrikaans.), I took in a lot of live music Thursday to Sunday.
Thursday night was the long anticipated Paul McCartney show at the First Ontario Centre, in Hamilton.
Hamilton was…er…interesting. Plenty of street people. Even more so than Toronto, it seemed to me.
We got there early and, because it was so stinking hot outside, hung out in Jackson Square Mall beside the event location.
We had to wait for a bit to use the washrooms off of the food court as 3 of the 5 stalls were out of order. Not a good sign. One stall was occupied for a very long time. A mom and her 7 year old daughter were waiting there too, for the occupant – her other daughter, as it turned out. Finally she emerged, looking all of about 12 (Mizz J said she looked 14), and waving around a pregnancy test in progress. I don’t know what the verdict was or how it was received. It was so awkward I avoided any eye contact with the whole scene and thankfully we got our business done and outta there very soon after that.
And then there was Macca, worth every moment of heat, discomfort and being exposed to the seedier, sadder side of life:
Sir Paul put on an incredible 3 hour show without a break – not even to take a sip of water. For a brief moment there I too could see my future self as a 74 year old ball of vegetarian energy but then I remembered who I really was…*cough*carnivore*cough*.
Got back to the Village around 130 am and hit my new bed around 2 am:
I will not lie. Up at 6 am, Friday was a struggle to get through. So much so that I despaired as to how I was going to manage Hillside Festival on Saturday and seeing the Temperance Movement at the Toronto Festival of Beer on Sunday. (And then back to work on Monday). It didn’t help that the temps were in the mid thirties (degrees Celsius) with the humidity making it feel like the forties. And both events were outdoors.
So Mizz J and I did the wise thing. We went to Hillside fairly early and left fairly early too – the heat and humidity were relentless and no amount of shade, breeze or misting could alleviate it – only make it barely tolerable.
I really enjoyed the relaxed, inclusive and friendly vibe of Hillside. I kinda felt like I had found my tribe. Mizz J and I took in several workshops as well as overhearing some performances as we wandered around, trying to stick to whatever shade was available. I would go again, but this time take my bathing suit and maybe even camp there for the weekend.
But in the end the heat did us in, so we left a lot earlier than we had planned, to get into some air-conditioned comfort and recover for the next day’s festival in Toronto.
To be continued.
Rock on,
The WB
