Winter Vacation 2024 – A Series of Unfortunate Events

On February 20, 2024 By Widow BadassIn Badassery, Hmmm?, See the Beauty, The Great Outdoors, Travel Badassery67 Comments

Warning: Picture- and Whine-heavy post ahead.

January 12 – I boarded the plane in Nanaimo at shortly after 5 am…anticipating the next 3 weeks of fun and relaxation with friends. Winter had finally arrived on the island, and our pilot announced he wanted the plane to go through a second bout of de-icing before we took off for Calgary. This meant arriving in Calgary and at the next gate breathless from sprinting through the airport, where the jet to Toronto waited.

Only to be told that we (there were more guests than just me needing that Toronto plane) were to step aside as the gate agent continued to check in guests arriving AFTER us. Spouting some policy about needing to be in the airport 45 minutes before take-off, the gate agent told us we were being rebooked. (Which was BULLSHIT. I’ve been on WestJet flights where they held the plane to accommodate passengers making tight connections.) Yep, they gave our seats away – probably to crew – and I was booked to fly to Toronto AT 6:30 PM THE NEXT DAY. No discussion except to tell us that we were on our own and WestJet was doing nothing for us as it was deemed a weather event that we “missed” the flight, and they weren’t liable.

FINE. Shit happens and this wasn’t going to ruin my trip. After making sure an underage guest was not left to twist in the wind by the heartless gate agent (they managed to get her out the same day once they realized she was only 16), I went to find myself a hotel room and make the best of things. Getting on another flight was not going to be an option for me as the Departures board was full of delays and cancellations due to the extreme cold weather Calgary was experiencing. The airport Marriott managed to get me into my ~~very expensive~~ room by 10am.

I’d only been there for an hour and already my eyes and nasal passages were inflamed and burning from the lack of moisture in the air. I went to look for eye drops and nasal spray in the airport – found the eye drops only – and also found an oasis of moist air:

This was a photo I sent to my daughter, showing her I had found a source of moisture in the airport (water feature on Arrivals floor). I hung out here on several occasions, during my ~~imprisonment~~ stay.

From my room in the airport Marriott…slathering my face with Vaseline before heading for bed. It helped. I also soaked towels and threw them around the room to add moisture. They were all bone dry by morning.

The next day my 6:30 pm flight time came and went. Delayed until 10:45pm, eventually. I was cheered when I finally saw the plane come up to the gate. That didn’t last long, as the gate agents announced they were “just waiting for some crew members to arrive”. This dragged on for a bit until they finally announced the flight’s cancellation due to the lack of crew. We were told we’d be booked into hotels, transportation would be arranged, be given food vouchers, and rebooked to fly out the next day. All this information to come via email to our devices. The only emails I got were the food vouchers and a rebooking to fly into Hamilton, not Toronto. By now it was around 1 am, and my fellow passengers were drifting off to fend for themselves.

So I did the same. I booked a flight out with Porter for 730am the next morning and cancelled my WestJet flight. Then I decided it was not worth finding a hotel room anymore and tried to get some rest in the terminal, instead.

Trying (and failing) to get some sleep overnight at the Calgary airport. Hearing my fellow passengers blissfully snoring all around me, and burying my nose in a book on my phone. Yes, here I am in the wee hours of Sunday morning still in my Friday outfit (my only non-summer one). Ugh. (I did get to wash out my socks and undies in my hotel room and they dried in mere moments it seemed, thanks to the lack of moisture in the air – *one silver lining!*)

Sunday morning came eventually, and I gave ~~up on any sleep~~ myself a wet-wipe “bath” in one of the family washrooms and went to find my gate for the Porter flight to Toronto.

As promised, I got these notifications EVERY HALF HOUR until it was finally warm enough to de-ice the plane (at -33 degrees C) at 2 pm. To say I was a wreck by this time would be a gross understatement.

*De-icing fluid: I have never loved thee more!* My Calgary airport ordeal was finally over. From 9 am Friday morning to 2 pm Sunday afternoon, and I was finally on my way to Toronto (after contemplating trains, buses and rental cars).

I must tell you I was an unwilling witness to snippets of so many peoples’ sad travel experiences during the time I spent in the airport. I heard people on their phones talking to family, hotels and travel agents about having to cancel their vacations/travel plans altogether due to the delays. It helped ~~stopped my own personal pity party~~ put my own woes into some kind of perspective. The travel clusterfuck caused by the extreme weather made the news, and I vowed to never grace this airport again if I could help it.

Unlimited wine (IN A GLASS) and beer and first class snacks, on Porter airlines. Also: free wifi and no middle seats. *WestJet should be worried.*

Moon, as seen through my window on the airplane.

Joanne and I had a teary reunion at the Toronto airport and tried to make the best of my now-abbreviated stay with her. I think we succeeded! Laughs and good meals were shared, as well as a spa day at the Elmwood, downtown.

Why was this the only photo I took during my time with Joanne?!

And – in the blink of an eye it seemed – I was on another ~~fucking~~ jet with CJ, and we were heading south, to Barbados.

One of my friends captured this perfect shot.

Just before sunrise – full moon over the water.

Dramatic skies with the moon behind the clouds on another early morning walk.

We got to see sailors practicing for the Round the Island race, which took place during our stay…

More sailing action, as seen from the shore.

Lovely to see so many sailboats, from our beach.

One of the racers happened to be CJ’s nephew – whose team took first place for their class of boat. Woohoo!!! After the race, he and his wife graciously took us on a tour of the island for a day. We stopped at Earthworks Pottery, Animal Flower Cave, Limegrove Mall, and other island must-sees during our day out. Although we have been to many spots on the island during our years of coming here, these were all new to us and we enjoyed ourselves thoroughly. CJ’s sister Marilyn also joined us (and got a room at our same hotel) and it was lovely to spend time with her again, not having seen her since she and CJ visited me in the fall. CJ and I have been friends since we were 7 years old and I’m always happy to be folded into her clan.

Tremendous wave action at Animal Flower Cave area, at the north end of the island. Taken from the restaurant where we ate lunch.

We explored the area, which is stunning. That’s the restaurant, in the background. Unfortunately the waves were too high to allow us to go to the actual cave.

Trying to look angelic at Limegrove Mall in Holetown, where expensive retail therapy happens. I didn’t buy anything, which was just as well considering what happened later.

My friends Jackie and Adrien had also come down to Barbados (first visit for them) and I tried to divide my time such that I got to hang with everybody, equally. Jackie and I booked a catamaran cruise for one of the days we were both at the hotel, and it was a lot of fun to swim the wrecks and observe the sea life there, again.

On a catamaran day trip with my friend Jackie (who took this shot). In Carlisle Bay.

We also snorkelled off of off the beach at the hotel. A fellow guest educated me on how much tropical fish loved to eat bananas! Here is a 2 minute video (watch as much as you can stand) of me (with Jackie) feeding the reef fish:

Jackie (and Adrien) and I out to dinner at Tapas restaurant. I think her husband was off looking at the sunset at the time.

Night shot, taken while walking the boardwalk back to the hotel after dinner.

Out for a sunset dinner at Champers with CJ (and fam).

For an introvert like me, this vacay was incredibly people-y. And thus, over before I knew it. It was a bit of blur. An enjoyable blur, but a blur nonetheless.

Soon (too soon) I was back on a plane to Vancouver (bypassing the Calgary airport, deliberately of course). I had a very long layover before my flight to Nanaimo was scheduled so I decided to cancel that leg and grab a ferry to the island instead.

And, when I went to Arrivals to retrieve the carry-on bag that I was forced to check (due to a very full flight), I was informed they didn’t have my bag. WTF?!?!?!

I had an AirTag in the bag so I called up Find My app on my phone, and it told me that my bag had already left the airport and was travelling (probably on the SkyTrain) far away from me. For the next 12 hours, I held onto the ~~delusion~~ thought that someone had mistakenly taken my highly distinctive bag and would return it to the airport at their earliest opportunity. I did also make a police report, in the meantime. Long story short, after a couple of days of angst and many conversations with many lovely police officers (truly, I was impressed by their diligence), my luggage seemed to settle on Hastings Street in Vancouver, and I disabled the AirTag. My stolen luggage was irretrievably LOST to me.

AirTags are great, but seeing your luggage travelling around Vancouver without you is not.

So, all of the beach clothes, swim wear and jewellery (and much, much more) you see in the above photos are gone forever. And I am waiting (not so patiently) to hear from WestJet about the claims I have made for the cancelled flights and the stolen luggage. Not the best travel experience, but I had been reminded on this trip how many had it much worse than me.

Will I travel by air again, after this series of unfortunate events? Not soon, but eventually is inevitable I suppose. Road tripping and stay-cationing is looking very good (and so much less stressful) to me right now…

How about you? Have a travel tale of woe to share? Let me know in the comments, if you care to!

Rock on,

The WB

A Widow For 10 Years

On November 14, 2023 By Widow BadassIn Hmmm?52 Comments

Trigger Warning: I am going to be talking about MY experience at being widowed. If you are experiencing a different sort of grief and/or widowhood you may be offended or otherwise bothered by what I am going to say.

I woke up this morning feeling pretty damn fantastic, realizing I have been a widow now for 10 years. Becoming a widow probably saved my life because the stress of being married to my second husband had a high probability of killing me eventually. (I did have a couple of mini-strokes a few years later as I was still dealing with the mess left behind by his death.) A lot of this stuff is on ye olde blogge, if one cares to search…

Proof of That Stress…

2012 passport photo – married, exhausted, and stressed out of my mind. No wonder my daughter was worried for my health.

I had been living in Crazytown (as I called my life then) for quite a few years already (and it was getting steadily worse). I knew my health was being negatively affected by the pressures of living with this man and I was considering getting my own space to ~~live~~ ~~exist~~ survive in, when he was diagnosed with lung cancer. So my plans changed. The next 6 months were a blur of doctor visits and hospitalizations until he breathed his last a few minutes after midnight on November 14, 2013.

A few months later, as I was going through his papers I discovered that he had been having an affair with another woman (who also thought he was true as well as single) for 18 months while he was living with me (before we got married) and making me endure weekly (pointless, I thought) lectures on his thoughts about people who cheated on their loved ones and how awful and wrong they were. Hypocrisy, much? Guilty, much?

She had found out about me and kicked him to the curb but made the decision NOT to interfere in our relationship by informing me that he was cheating on both of us. I know she thought she was doing me a kindness but I deserved to have that information. Remaining in the dark of who this man truly was, I proceeded to marry him.

Did he really want to be with me or was I just the only option available now that the other relationship had ended?

I wonder sometimes how my life would have been different if I had known about his cheating at the time. It might have been better, it might have been worse. I am certain it would have turned out much differently. And my family would not have been so hurt by my relationship with my strange, secretive husband in the process.

This put me in a tailspin of confusing emotions. I had thought that – despite his mental illness (OCD), his love was something I could count on and draw strength from. After all, he spent a lot of time telling me how honest and virtuous and moral and good and Christian he was (subtext: a better person than me, in his mind.) And now that was proven to be false and all the memories that were supposed to comfort me in my widowhood ruined, by this discovery. And the worst part? I couldn’t even confront him with this knowledge and try to get some answers and closure for myself.

I’m truly sorry that my second husband had to die so young and of such a terrible disease as lung cancer. When he died though, my most prevalent emotion was an overwhelming sense of relief and that is the saddest thing, isn’t it? But it is my truth. My ordeal was over. My grief was very complicated and made even more so when I learned of his unfaithfulness.

The first few years of my widowhood were spent dealing with these emotions as I was cleaning up his hoard, selling my place to clear up the debts he left behind, and incurring more debt as I fixed up the decrepit building he left me with, and completed the MBA program we had both started. All while still working full-time at my career. Therapy helped; fixing up the building and making it profitable (finally) helped; becoming my alter-ego The Widow Badass helped (a lot). Friends helped too, although I had kept the knowledge of his infidelity to myself for many months after discovery because it took an awful lot of time for me to process, accept and acknowledge what I had learned and the full extent to which I had been manipulated and duped over the years.

Making the decision to retire at 60 and move to Vancouver Island was also very good for my mental health. I was no longer bombarded by memories every time I walked on a familiar trail or into a different room in the building my husband and I had spent so much time in. It was and is a fresh start and a new beginning.

Today I wake up every morning with a smile on my face and in my heart and look forward to the day ahead. This is me – a widow of 10 years. I’ve done my best to absorb all the lessons that can be gleaned from my travails and experiences so far and I am grateful for them all. I’m pretty sure I still have some revelations/a-ha moments in my future, though 😉…after all, if life has taught me anything it’s that I am a ~~stubborn~~ ~~thick~~ ~~delusional~~ SLOW LEARNER 🤣 ~~per my marriages.~~

Rock on,

The WB

A Badass Big (Fun, Exhausting, Perplexing) Trip

On February 23, 2023 By Widow BadassIn Adventures in Retirement, Good Times, Hmmm?, See the Beauty, The Great Outdoors, Travel Badassery70 Comments

Some of you may have surmised from Bowser’s ~~complaining~~ recent posts on ye olde blogge that I have been away on a holiday. Yes! For the first time since the pandemic started in 2020, I left Canada once again for Barbados. But first I spent a lovely bunch of days with my friend Joanne in Ontario. Who graciously lent me full use of her closet and laundry facilities so that I could travel with only carry-on luggage despite needing to dress for full-on winter as well as full-on summer temps.

My whole world is in these bags for the next 3 weeks.

Of course we hiked!

One of many exciting things (to me, anyways) we did while I was at Joanne’s was drop into her local library to get me a Toronto Public Library membership. I’ve been wanting one for years, ever since I saw what my Barbados buddy (CJ) could borrow online.

As a non-resident of Toronto, I had to pay (gladly) yet also appear in person in order to get my card. Which makes no sense to me…why couldn’t I just subscribe online since I am paying for the privilege anyways???? Why do I have to show up and prove where I live?!?! Just SHUT UP AND TAKE MY MONEY. Hopefully now that I have the card I can renew online since the volume and access to digital items far surpasses what my local library has on offer.

All too soon my time with Joanne was over and I headed out to meet up with CJ, to catch yet another plane, this time to Barbados!

View from our patio. Our room was on the pool deck level of our hotel this year.

There is nothing like that first icy cold Banks beer. Taken at Mama Mia’s, the delightful Italian restaurant across from our hotel.

I immediately fell back into my Barbados routine of sunrise and sunset walks on the beach.

Moon behind the clouds on another early morning walk.

New this time: a decrepit, abandoned hotel along the boardwalk had been taken down and the property cleared for redevelopment. The privacy fence along the property has been turned into a beautiful, beachside outdoor art gallery. Which provided me with inspiration and additional food for my soul every morning.

Unfortunately, one week into our two week stay CJ needed to fly back home due to a medical emergency involving a family member. I offered to fly home with her but she wouldn’t hear of it. (Thankfully the crisis passed and the patient was successfully discharged from hospital after CJ returned. Still, CJ was glad she cut her vacation short to be in attendance and provide support.)

This left me on my own for the 2nd week of the vacation. I kept myself busy with snorkeling, beach walking, exploring, and plenty of people-watching!

Wading into the ocean daily to swim and snorkel.

Walked to Pebble Beach early one morning to see the racehorses take their sea bath, as I do every trip.

I chatted up the friendly visitors to our ~~catio~~ patio.

Another visitor to the patio:

Whistling frogs – not native to Barbados. Who knew?

And just when I thought the whistle frogs couldn’t be any tinier, this guy showed up:

That’s my index finger for size comparison.

Here’s the same frog, with an ant in the frame too. The white spots on his back and legs are grains of sand.

After seeing this guy, I was very careful to watch where I walked, lest I accidentally step on one of these frogs (who look a lot like tiny pieces of debris!).

I had a very good second week. Except for all the rudeness I witnessed from hotel guests directed at hotel staff. I don’t remember so many people being so rude and such ~~whiny ass entitled~~ complainers from previous visits. Perplexing, to say the least. You’re on vacation, people! CHILLAX.

Readers who have traveled since the pandemic: have you noticed the same thing? I let it suck a lot of the joy out of me (my bad). I can’t even imagine how the hotel staff put up with this shit. These workers all deserve instant sainthood.

At one point I was able to actually intervene on behalf of a manager being treated abominably by a guest. I knew she couldn’t say anything but I certainly could AND DID. I told the man he was being rude and asked him where his manners went, and he slunk off. I was kinda proud of myself because I am usually slow to react when these things happen around me, due to shock and surprise.

I was primed this time by all the rudeness I had been witnessing I guess, and when he barged into our conversation to make his stupid remarks about the manager’s long braids (Is your hair real? Is it a wig? If I tug on it, will I pull it off your head?) I let him have it. Definitely not sorry about it, either.

Here’s a couple more pretty beach pics to take the bad taste of that guest away…

Overall, it really was a wonderful 3 weeks! Two days of plane travel back to back (and 4 time zones) on the way back home proved to be quite exhausting though. I haven’t been that tired for a long, long time. So tired that I noticed my thinking was impaired enough to make me afraid to drive my car for my first couple of days at home.

It was great to go away and also great to come back home, even if I traded the warm sands of Barbados for this:

Walking with Bowser after a late February snowfall on Vancouver Island (and more predicted on the way!!!).

Have you resumed travelling abroad? Have you seen people who have apparently forgotten decent behaviour and manners like those I encountered on this trip? Let me know in the Comments please!

Rock on,

The WB

What’s On My Bookshelf – Blast From the Past Edition

On November 20, 2021November 19, 2021 By Widow BadassIn Adventures in Food, Hmmm?, Read Books, What's On Your Bookshelf80 Comments

You know, I really should have predicted this would happen. I’ve been going on almost-weekly adventures with this woman, and by now I should know by now not to open my mouth around her. Case in point: we were idly browsing a favourite thrift store prior to embarking on a soggy beach walk, and I happened to notice a cook book that I used to own, placed on a table right at the front of the store. This book DID NOT – I repeat – DID NOT make the cut when I was packing for my move to the island. Seeing it in the thrift store, I had a momentary ~~failing~~ ~~weakness~~ flood of nostalgia as I gazed upon its cover – recalling flipping through it during many a Christmas Past. I remember looking for inspiration or maybe it was just an escape from the chaos that was that season at my house what with 2 young children, no money, an insufferable monster-in-law, and an unsupportive spouse. Oh yeah, and let’s not forget rampant consumerism and commercialization spoiling the season too...

Is it any surprise that my formerly insane love of this holiday got permanently squashed like a creepy bug on the bathroom floor?

Anywho…there I go digressing AGAIN. The point of my story (and this post) is that I resisted re-buying this book even though the store clerk was helpfully pointing out that it was ONLY A DOLLAR and YET somehow, someway I ended up leaving the store with this book…thanks to Donna sneakily adding it to her purchase and immediately thrusting it into my hands! I pretended to be exasperated with her (how can anyone be pissed at Donna though, really?) but secretly I was looking forward to paging through the book once more…

The book was just as wonderful and aspirational/inspirational as I remembered it. Here is the only recipe that I recall actually trying.

The kids and I made these ornaments. I remember them smelling wonderful; even the following year when they were brought out again and rehung on the tree!

As I was flipping through the book, I kept finding pieces of paper stuck between the pages. Like these: not 1, but 2 printed copies of some woman’s fruitcake recipe.

Gosh! Two copies. Is this a sign that I should try this one?! I’m a bit *suspish*, as the pages are too clean. (A clear sign the recipe has not actually been attempted, in my view 😉 ).

One copy of the recipe was stuck between these 2 pages, see photo below. This recipe looks good too.

And then I found this piece of paper: a couple of recipes cut out from a newspaper.

No indication of date or what newspaper it came from.

But the most surprising find of all? Not a piece of paper but this recipe:

Can we take a moment to remember last Christmas’s Black Forest Trifle kerfuffle? Here is the link. Now I have the source recipe once again, it seems.

But I don’t want to attempt it again this year. The wounds are yet too fresh. However, I have been thinking about making a fruit cake (again). Those wounds have healed over, apparently. Remember this near-disaster, also from last year?

Readers, I need your help (and your votes). The poll will close on November 30th. Help a badass out, will ya?

Thank you, Donna! ~~I may curse your name later but for now~~ I am really happy you ignored my babblings about how I was not going to buy this ~~damn~~ book again, and instead bought it for me.

Rock on,

The WB

500 Posts!!!!

On November 18, 2021November 17, 2021 By Widow BadassIn Adventures in Food, Blogging, Good Times, Hmmm?, What's On Your Plate59 Comments

Dear Bloggie,

I have known for some time now that we were approaching the magical event of having 500 posts published. And I had promised myself that I would make a big deal about it. And I was counting it down, from about #493 until, well NOW.

So imagine my surprise when I realized – only AFTER yesterday’s post went live – that it was indeed post #500. And that I had completely missed it.

Well, fear not my faithful long-suffering ~~blogge~~ friend….It is Not. Too. Late.

Inspired and informed by fellow blogger Rivergirl, may I present to you and all my readers: a piecaken (dessert’s answer to the turducken) that I had made just for this wondrous occasion! 😉

From the Food Network. My teeth ache just looking at it. Not going to appear as a #WOYPBC post anytime soon.

Here’s what a piecaken (Thanksgiving version) is comprised of:

In other words, a fat and sugar bomb. A conglomeration of pie and cake ~~what, no pudding?~~. *Not that anything is wrong with that!* Why take multiple trips to the dessert bar when you can put a slice of this beauty on your buffet plate instead?

Anywhoodle, I digress ~~as usual~~.

Back to you, Dear Bloggie…I apologize for having missed this momentous…uh…moment. ~~(But only by one day, so can you give me a break?).~~ I also apologize for having taken so long to get here. Despite you being in existence for over 12 years now (yup, missed that one too), it has taken me until now to get to this milestone.

I spent a lotta years in Crazytown (as the Mayor, no less) and the lack of blogging during that time is the proof in the ~~pudding~~ piecaken of that.

So please accept this piecaken as my sweet attempt to make up for all the lost years and forgotten milestones. Enjoy! ~~And don’t come crying to me when your teeth hurt.~~

Rock ever onwards, to the next 500 posts!

The WB

Too Much Information?: A Bidet Story

On October 25, 2021October 25, 2021 By Widow BadassIn Hmmm?, Home Improvement63 Comments

WARNING: Please click away if your nerves are far too delicate to read about bathrooms and associated functions.

Remember back at the beginning of the pandemic when everyone was losing their minds and all sorts of craziness was happening? We were all so scared and unsure of what was going to happen next. And some scoundrels tried to buy up all the essentials, leading to shortages of everything and the people were going on Facebook to beg for toilet paper AS THERE WAS NONE TO BE HAD IN ALL THE LAND? Yeah, thanks a lot hoarders! Gone through your stockpile(s) yet, jerkwads?

Scene at my local grocery store in March 2020.

Well, around that time I began chatting regularly online with a bunch of blogger friends via Zoom and the topic of bidets came up during one session, and how great they were to use and – especially – how you didn’t need all that much toilet paper if you used one. I remember researching bidets at that time – along with the rest of the universe, apparently – and although I could find information on them, there were none to be had as demand has far outstripped supply. Go figure. Sigh. Turns out I had just enough TP to get me through until the shelves were restocked, so I promptly forgot all about bidets once the GREAT TP SHORTAGE OF 2020 was over.

Fast forward to present day: I somehow severely ~~fucked up~~ strained my back muscles last week. I could hardly move and when I absolutely had to move it was groan-out-loud painful (sorry, neighbours!). We are talking A STRUGGLE to put on socks and underwear, and to get from lying down to sitting to standing and vice versa.

And did you know how much you need to involve your back muscles in order to thoroughly wipe your nether regions clean after using the toilet? Let me elucidate you, in case you didn’t already know: IT’S A LOT, ACTUALLY. IT’S QUITE A LOT.

I was ~~bitching~~ ~~complaining~~ chatting about this very thing with my massage therapist this past week when she said those 3 magic words that sent me running back to Amazon: GET A BIDET.

This baby arrived yesterday. Amazon’s Choice, with thousands of great ratings. *Thousands upon thousands of happy butts!*

I bravely started to do the install after reading the instructions and putting my talented son-in-law on speed dial, just in case.

And then, dear Badassians, it all went ~~to shit~~ wrong. Trying to affix the t-valve to the toilet tank….water leaking everywhere once I turned it back on! So I undid everything and tried to put the toilet back together as it was before I started messing with it. No good. Still spraying water everywhere. I shut the water valve off yet again and frantically called the SIL, who came right over and diagnosed the problem!

First – as I suspected – it was partly the blame of the shitty plastic wrench included in the kit. Although I thought I was behaving like a pretty poor workman blaming the tool and all that, but whatevs. Second – and completely related to the first – when I was tightening the t-valve I was loosening the fitting coming from the toilet at the same time. Thankfully SIL came prepared with a REAL wrench and his big man hands and a less sore back than mine, and soon there was this:

After thanking SIL profusely and seeing him out the door, it was time to take Ye Olde Bidet for its (and my) maiden voyage. I want to say it was a dry run, as I didn’t actually need to use the facilities, but “dry” is not the right word when describing how a bidet is supposed to work.

With great trepidation, I reached down to the dial at my side.

Note to self: be careful not to dial it up too fast, lest it get downright invasive!

It has taken some finessing (one must develop a technique; some skill, as it were), but overall I am quite happy with this upgrade to Ye Olde Water Closet. In the succinct ~~words~~ word of someone named Brad (see quote on box, above), this bidet addition is:

“FANTASSTIC!’

Rock on,

The WB

Can You Go Home Again?

On August 18, 2021 By Widow BadassIn Hmmm?, See the Beauty, Village Life55 Comments

The days and weeks since my last post seem like a bit of a blur to me now. The day after my birthday, I left home to go camping with my daughter and her family in Ucluelet, and while I was there I received a message that my brother-in-law (in Ontario) was near the end of his brief and intense battle with cancer. Sure enough, he passed away the following day as I was making my way back to Nanaimo from the west coast of the island.

The next few days became a flurry of travel arrangements and packing. I arrived at the Victoria airport only to find out my direct flight had been cancelled 20 minutes after I left the house. So yet more arrangements had to be made to ensure I made it back to Ontario in time to pay my last respects at the celebration of life that was planned. I flew out of Nanaimo the next day, with a stop to change planes in Calgary.

Sunrise. Leaving Vancouver Island on the first leg of the journey back to Ontario.

I did make it and in time, and with my luggage (whew!). I also tried to fit in as many visits with people as I could, since I was “in town”, anyways…in fact I had to extend my stay for a few extra days when I realized I would never be able to fit everyone in, otherwise. I consider myself so fortunate to have all of these good friends who made time for me, on such short notice. I was thrilled to be able to spend time with my son and his girlfriend (and my grand-doggy!), and on his birthday too!

I did not take pictures of any of these meetups (deliberately) as I wanted to just be in the moment with my friends and family. However, on the rare free evening I did get out on walks with my gracious and lovely hosts and I had my phone camera at the ready, then.

I managed to get in an early morning solo walk too…on the trail I have been using for at least 55 years.

The new bridge had been installed. Read about the time I risked life and limb to walk on the old bridge 😉 , here.

What was gained in safety and accessibility was gained at the expense of the charm and beauty of the wooden bridge.

I feel like I am looking through the bars of a playpen…or a jail cell.

This is my “how do I feel about this new bridge” face.

Beautiful views soon distracted me from thoughts of the new bridge.

I made sure to say hello to all of my favourite trees.

On my way back from my soul-restoring walk, enroute to my host’s abode I saw this vanity plate on a car.

Special shout out to this lady (and her hubs): my wonderful host and long-time friend (with *her* long-time pal – 30 years old and *still* wearing out much younger horses on their rides!)

After a jam-packed 9 days of seeing friends and family I was back on a plane heading west, exhausted but content.

Flying above the smoke from the wildfires during sunset, on the Calgary to Nanaimo leg of my journey.

Besides catching up with people, I learned a lot about myself on this trip back to the place I have called home for the previous 60 years of my life. Other than the people I left behind, I no longer have any attachments to my old stomping grounds. I even visited my old building (and the good friends who now occupy my former home there) and I felt…uh, nothing…nothing but curiosity and joy at seeing the changes/improvements being wrought. It’s like I never lived there…and yes, the me who I am today – in my new Island home – never did live there. Am I making sense?

They say you can’t go home again. And they are right…not because home has changed, but because YOU have.

Rock on,

The WB

Everybody’s A Comedian: a Canadian Healthcare Story

On June 5, 2021June 5, 2021 By Widow BadassIn COVID-19, Hmmm?83 Comments

Last week was not that great in family news for yours truly. After having a wonderful time in Tofino, I came home to find out that: my Ontario brother-in-law (my late husband’s sister’s spouse) was in the hospital with cancer in multiple places in his body; one of my Dutch uncles had died after a long struggle with Parkinson’s and Alzheimer’s diseases; and my baby sister (who lives on the mainland of British Columbia) had passed out at home and was taken by ambulance to hospital (she has multiple health issues that she is dealing with, including being treated for breast cancer). Well, at least I don’t have any health issues at the moment…or so I thought.

Smite me now, Universe!

Let me give you some background. Last September, I noticed that I was having some issues with my eyes. I kept seeing what looked like little black bugs dancing in the corners of my vision…but these weren’t real, I soon realized. And I had a huge floater in my right eye…so huge I nicknamed it my nictitating (or 3rd) eyelid. It would travel slowly back and forth across my entire field of vision just like…well…how I would imagine a 3rd eyelid would.

This is what I mean by a 3rd eyelid.

I called a local optometrist for an eye exam. After a thorough workup, he said he didn’t see anything troubling but was going to pass on my information to the eye doctor’s office upstairs just in case and that I should expect a call. Which happened, and soon I had an appointment to see her the next month. It’s now October. More tests during my appointment…nothing major was found I was told, and I was sent home with instructions to call back in 3 months, for a follow-up.

By now the “black bugs” had disappeared, which means they probably didn’t but my brain just got used to them and starting ignoring them. However my “3rd eyelid” was still very much active. I dutifully called in January at the 3 month mark and was told the eye doc was booking into March. Which begs the question: if the office knows they are booking 3 months out, why didn’t they make my follow-up appointment when I was there in October? Hmmm???? Oh well.

March comes and I get a call that due to unforeseen circumstances my appointment has to be moved to April. OK, I go in April…have all the same tests done again…doc says I have blood in my eye (Very nonchalantly, I might add. Is this my floater?) and she wants me to see the eye surgeon who comes to the island every Friday from Vancouver.

An appointment is made for May. Then cancelled by the office and an appointment made for June. Then cancelled by the office and an appointment made for July. Whatevs…me and my 3rd eyelid are used to this, by now.

Then last Friday (to cap off the week of bad health news, I guess), I get a call from the eye doc’s office apologizing for the short notice but the eye surgeon has an opening today, he thinks I might need laser surgery, and could I be there in 2 hours? Sure, I said (hiding my shock that we went from nonchalance to needing laser surgery in an apparent heartbeat). You need to have someone drive you home as you will have drops in your eyes, they said. I was planning on walking over, I said. Will that be OK? Yes, they said.

Off I trudge to the clinic (25 minute walk away from my house). Where I am told the doc is 45 minutes behind schedule, given a pager by the tech (henceforth to be known as The Gatekeeper) and told to wait in my car (thanks, Covid!). But I walked over, I said. Luckily there was a chair positioned outside the doorway, so I sat down in the vestibule and started reading a book on my phone. Almost 2 hours later, and after watching multiple individuals with ringing pagers approach The Gatekeeper to be let in, it is finally my turn.

I stand in the front of the door with my noisy pager, and The Gatekeeper stands in the open doorway facing me.

I was just ringing your pager to see if it was still working, he deadpans. I crack a tired smile and ~~give him the finger~~ shake my fist at him. He hands me a brand new mask and tells me to head upstairs to the eye doc’s office. Where I undergo more tests and am given the previously foretold eye drops. Then I wait yet again (inside this time) to see the man of the hour – the eye surgeon – thinking that he is going to look at my test results, discuss treatment, and a further appointment will be made.

Yeah. No. That’s not what happened.

Doc comes into the dark exam room, where I am sitting and looking at a computer screen filled with Day-Glo^TM images of the interior of my eyeball. He examines my eye, all up close and personal.

I wanted to see you today, he says, because if we waited until July I’d be seeing you in the operating room.

Oh, really?

You have a retinal tear and I am going to do laser on your eye to sear it shut.

What!? Right now!?!

Yes, right now. I’m going to lower the back of your chair. Lean back and tilt your head up. I’m going to push on your eye...

Next thing I know he is pushing his finger in between my upper eyelid and socket like he wants to pop my eye out (spoiler: he does want to), and is shining a bright light (the laser) in my eye with his other hand.

No let’s go over the risks of the procedure. No here’s a waiver for you to sign saying you understand the risks and won’t sue the ass off me later. No see the receptionist on the way out to book the laser surgery. It’s Wham Bam, thank you for your eye Ma’am! time.

Thirty long painful seconds later, it’s done. I had but mere moments to contemplate whether or not I was locked in a dark room with a madman who gets his jollies by blinding the people trapped therein, with his trusty shiny laser light. I had absolutely no time to come up with a conclusion let alone a possible escape plan.

I was helped back up to a seated position and told my vision would be black but would come back. Which it did, very quickly. Still in somewhat of a state of shock, I was told an appointment would be made for me to come back in 6 weeks for a follow-up. (Ironically, for the same date I was supposed to be seeing him for my oft-delayed first visit.)

He sends me off with this post-laser dictum: And don’t pick up the boxing gloves for the next 4-5 days, OK? The tear needs time to heal.

I stumble home, in a daze. What the fuck just happened to me?

Everybody is a comedian, in Canadian healthcare it seems. Which reminds me of what a nurse in Emerg told me last fall, when I was there for esophageal spasms (a long boring story culminating in a gastroscopy, severe gastritis and hiatal hernia diagnoses, and daily acid-control meds). He offered me something called a “pink drink” or “pink cocktail”, I forget which – a concoction of pepto-bismol and an analgesic, to ease the burning in my food pipe. (Correction, thanks to my sister the nurse: It’s called a Pink Lady).

Throw it back like a shot of tequila, he says. I know you’ve had experience with those.

OK, he’s right. But how did he know? The man only just met me.

Rock on,

The WB

p.s. It might be too soon to call but I think my 3rd eyelid has gone bye-byes.

p.p.s. This is my 3rd post in 4 days and I am not even doing a blogging challenge. It may never happen again. You might be sorry or relieved to know this. I’m not sure which one I am.

p.p.p.s. Maybe I should have subtitled this “A BC Healthcare Story”. BC healthcare seems to be as relaxed and casual as everything else is, here on Paradise Island. I’m definitely not in ~~Kansas~~ Ontario, anymore! 😉

Answering The Call: Ally Bean’s Questions

On March 27, 2021March 27, 2021 By Widow BadassIn Artistic Endeavours, Hmmm?, See the Beauty53 Comments

Fellow eclectic blogger Ally Bean of The Spectacled Bean fame put out a bunch of questions to the Blogoverse a short while ago, and I thought it might be a good idea to try and answer them. Ye Olde Blogging Well has run a bit dry of late, and I could use some prodding, to get more…ahem…product out, you know? Here are Ms. Bean’s questions, and here goes nothing…

Q1 – What’s your ~~favorite~~ favourite movie?
A1 – It used to be Moonstruck, but I guess I snapped out of it (see what I did there?). The last movie I fell in love with was Rocketman…I saw it 3 times at the theatre and I bought the DVD. I think that makes it my new favourite!
Q2 – When trying to buy shoes, what’s your biggest problem?
A2 – Dealing with the guilt of buying yet another pair. It doesn’t stop me from buying them; just that now I have to bring home some guilt along with the footwear… 🙂
Q3 – Ice cream cone or cupcake?
A3 – Ice cream cone, definitely! Cupcakes are pretty, but I find them to be kinda dry and boring. And the frosting is usually a disappointment too. Good quality ice cream almost never lets me down.
Q4 – What’s one good thing you have learned about yourself during this pandemic?
A4 – I unintentionally timed my retirement from working to basically coincide with the beginning of the pandemic so I got a “crash course” in slowing my life waaaay down, which was and continues to be a good and necessary thing. I learned that I like living this way.
Q5 – Any eccentric people in your family? Discuss.
A5 – My paternal grandmother was a warm and wonderful woman who had some…um…peculiarities. Oma told me she couldn’t wear nail polish because it made her finger tips feel too heavy. And speaking of heavy, she liked to have a heavy purse on her arm. So much so, that if she felt her purse wasn’t heavy enough, she would add a few stones from the garden (washed, of course) to her bag to help with its weight. There were probably more eccentricities, but those were the only ones I remember from my childhood. Apparently I am the spitting image of her. It must be true because lately I keep seeing her face looking back at me when I catch myself in a mirror!

When not running down the hill to the beach like a mad fool in the wee hours in order to catch the fleeting sunrise (see above photo), I am spending a lot of time getting covered in paint, in my spare room/studio space. I’ve been taking a couple of online art courses and feeling inspired, after a long dry spell. And I actually did an underpainting. The old WB would never have taken the time to make an underpainting. You mean I have to paint a painting to go under my painting?!?! Who’s got time for that?!?

See how much I’ve been able to slow down? 😉

Underpainting based on a photo of the dawn taken in Bowser, BC in 2019.

Well, friends – do you feel inspired to answer any of Ally’s questions on your own blogs or in the Comments below? Has March and the spring equinox brought any more energy, creative or otherwise into your life?

Do tell all, and keep on rockin’…

The WB

What IF Jesus Was A Girl?

On December 18, 2020December 18, 2020 By Widow BadassIn COVID-19, Hmmm?68 Comments

Looking back on Ye Olde Blogge, it seems like December has brought out the rant in me in years past. I thought this year might be different seeing as I am now retired and living in Chillax Central (AKA Vancouver Island, British Columbia). Pandemic notwithstanding, I have little to rant about.

Or so I thought.

Yesterday I happened on Facebook (I know, my first mistake…sigh) and up in my feed came a cartoon meme being shared by a female pastor I know and respect, despite not sharing her Christian belief system.

Here it is, with the original poster’s details erased, to protect the guilty:

*Ya know, I think I possess a pretty good sense of humour. And if you regularly* read my blog you know I’m not afraid to “go there” when it comes to seeing the humour in all sorts of weird and wonderful things. But this post? I’m afraid I can’t see the humour in misogyny. Ever.
Well, at least the shepherd looks happy to be spreading this news…

I was shocked, hurt and dismayed to see this being paraded around as humour. By someone I thought would be as offended by this as I was. And I was just a wee bit TRIGGERED OUTTA MY EVER-LOVIN’ MIND.

I let the pastor poster (sorry!) know that this was upsetting to me and she made a general response that it was only a joke and we all could use a laugh these days. Stockholm Syndrome, much? I wonder…especially since a lot of other females joined in to reassure her that it was indeed VERY FUNNY. YES, A VERITABLE LAFF RIOT. Har dee fucking har har.

The Patriarchy is strong with these ones.

Which only triggered me further because I wish I had a dollar for every time a man told me (after insulting me or my gender) that it was only a joke, how about lightening up?; and by the way, you look way prettier when you smile.

So guess what, dear Bloggie? You’re gettin’ a rant for Christmas this year after all! It’s a Christmas-fucking-miracle. HAH!

I just couldn’t explain to this pastor how offensive and inappropriate I find this cartoon to be. (I was too upset. I still am.) How it reads that having a girl baby Jesus is lumped right up there with all of the terrible things that have happened in 2020.

What else could possibly go wrong? What next? OMG – YES! How very wrong – a girl is born to Mary and Joseph instead of a boy!!! Will this fucking year of horrors never end?!?!?

Or maybe – just maybe – the cartoon is saying that Jesus couldn’t possibly be born into a female body. How ludicrous, after all! I mean, really. The Daughter of God? It is not to be borne. Therefore a punchline of “It’s a girl!” means “no ~~soup~~ saviour for you”?

Well, gosh golly gee shucks, that ain’t funny to me either.

I wonder what the pastor would say if a little girl from her congregation came to her and asked her to explain where the humour is in this cartoon.

“I want in on the joke. What’s funny/awful/wrong about Mary having a girl baby instead of a boy?”

I want to know too. I’ll wait. I love a good laugh!

Well, while we’re waiting – Let’s play a game.

Let us imagine a world where Jesus was born as and/or identified as a girl. I know, I know. Awful, right? Bear with me. Hold my hand if necessary. How would that world look? I think the chatter around Girl Jesus would go something like this:

Girl Jesus throws over the moneychangers’ tables in the temple: Why do they always have to get so emotional? This is why you can’t put them in positions of authority. Looks like someone’s on the rag, again. Yeah, someone needs to get laid.

Girl Jesus changes water into wine: That’s not how you do it. Here, let me show you how it’s supposed to be done. I’m the expert on this type of miracle. What could you possibly know about this?

Girl Jesus enacts the miracle of the loaves and the fishes: This is nothing. You should see how my wife can stretch a meal when my cousins drop by. You call this a miracle?

Girl Jesus hangs out with prostitutes and the poor, not mention all of those male disciples: She’s a slut. I bet she spreads her legs for those followers of her every night. I heard she told them “I am the gate; whoever enters through me will be saved.” I’d like to enter HER gate – know what I mean? C’mon, baby! Come on over here and “save” your daddy.

Girl Jesus explains how she will be betrayed, at the Last Supper: As if! What a drama queen! Someone please put this bitch on The Real Housewives of Gethsemane.

Girl Jesus rises from the dead after 3 days: I told you she was faking. It was all in her head. She wasn’t really dying on that cross. She just wanted the attention. Crazy bitch!

Yeah, yeah, I know. None of this would ever likely come to pass.

BECAUSE GIRL JESUS WOULD HAVE BEEN STONED TO DEATH FOR BEING A WITCH AFTER THE FIRST MIRACLE. THAT’S WHY.

You know I’m right.

Not a scene about the stoning of a witch per se, but still funny as hell. Thought I should end the rant on an…um…sillier note. Because religion can be SO. DAMN. FUNNY. So lighten up, all you pearl-clutchers; this blog post is just a joke and we could all use a laugh.
Because 2020! Amiright??? 😉

Whew! I don’t know about you, but I feel better now. Ranting IS so good for ~~my damned~~ the soul. HAH!