Mail Bag ~ July 2019

Did I ever tell you that one of my favourite columnists to read was Dave Barry[1] of the Miami Herald? I also enjoyed following ESPN’s Bill Simmons[2], the ‘Sports Guy’. Both are generally intelligent, irreverent commentators on the world going on around them. Even if I didn’t fully understand their every political or sport reference, I certainly recognized a kindred spirit who would prefer to skewer nonsense & laugh at it, rather than waste any time in angst & useless hand-wringing.

Another thing that both columns had in common was a regular “mail bag” feature, where the writers would field questions from their readers. I highly suspect that most of the questions were faked, but life experience has since taught me that average people really will ask the weirdest stuff with little to no provocation. So maybe the questions were genuine instead of perfect set-ups for the next crazy rant? I may never know the answer.

All of that to say this: Welcome to my very own, first of its kind, Premiere Edition Mail Bag blog. Whoohoo! I won’t pretend that I’m in the same league as any professional who actually draws a salary doing this kind of stuff, but hopefully, you will enjoy my first Mail Bag as much as I have.  I must say, however, that I will maintain my general commitment to honesty as I write, so all of my responses are genuine and only one[3] of the following questions was faked.

Ready? Me, too!!! Allons-y[4]!!!

The inaugural question in my Mail Bag comes from Stephen K., who asks, “What is an area of your life you would like to see growth in, and how can you be going about it?”

Wow, way to swing for the fences, Stephen!!!!

I want to be stronger.

I want to be physically stronger, which is a challenge because I am a lazy-bones by nature who is learning how to manage her chronic pain and fatigue. Typical exercise that would build up an average person might help me or might ignite a flare that exhausts all progress I have made, and it’s anybody’s guess which outcome I’ll get. So I am trying to improve my diet along the keto lines, and I go for walks with my dog when I am able.

I also want to be emotionally stronger, or more resilient anyway, and I’ve seen a counselor a few times in the recent past to give me a good nudge in the right direction. I have a group of friends that I trust and have learned to reach out to, including my handsome husband. Most importantly, I keep working on my spiritual strength through a daily walk with my Saviour, prayer, and attending my church’s services as often as I can.

One of my 7 or 8 regular readers, Rachel B., asks, “What is something that has been meaningful to you in your life? (A quote, book, song, etc?)”

I’m going to go with ‘meaningful song’ in this category, and share my #1, all-time, absolute favourite song with you: Solsbury Hill[5][6], by Peter Gabriel. This song was originally released in 1977 on Gabriel’s first “car” album, and has been in my personal Top-5 for over 30 years now. I had the privilege of seeing Peter Gabriel perform live in concert in Vancouver, BC on his “Secret World” tour (+/- 1994?) and I cried tears of sheer joy throughout the entire performance of Solsbury Hill.

I’d already been in love with this song for many years before I accepted Christ as my Saviour. After that, the lyrics of Solsbury Hill took on even greater significance. The imagery of the writer being called “son”, being brought home, of leaving every good thing behind in favour of great things to come… it feels lovingly profound to me.

New and very welcome reader, Alexandra H., asks, “What made you decide to start a blog?”

The short answer is that as my 50^th birthday was approaching earlier this year, two of my very best friends suggested that I share some personal trivia and anecdotes to commemorate the milestone. I’d also had a handful of other friends tell me how much they enjoyed reading some of my adventures that I’d posted on Facebook. I’ve always enjoyed writing so blogging definitely appealed to my vanity.

Evie S. had a great question: “What does a "normal" day look like for you?”

Normal? Hahahahahahahahaha, like anything about me was ever ‘normal’!!! However, I do experience days like these on a regular basis:

Day A: I wake up around 8am, read my Bible and pray before my feet hit the floor, and then I toddle off to the shower. By 9-ish, I’m puttering in the kitchen with the coffee pot going. I check in with assorted children and see what they’re up to around the house, I might take the dog for a walk, and then I waste a little time with Facebook or some games. I wash the dishes, I do some laundry, I prep dinner… time passes in mundane housewife pursuits… dinner is cooked, served, enjoyed (I hope) and tidied up. Might watch a movie with the kids till bedtime, or might mow the lawn, or do other quiet home-body stuff like that.

Day B: everything hurts, I hate the world, I have a good cry and go back to bed. Try again tomorrow.

School starts up in September again, so I’ll also have lots of Day C’s: wake up at 7am, everything hurts and I hate the world, read my Bible and pray before my feet hit the floor, and then I toddle off to the shower. By 8-ish, I am caffeinated and we are driving 35+ minutes to the school, then I will come home and have a good cry and go back to bed till lunch. I might take the dog for a walk, then I prep dinner, and then I leave at 2pm to head back to the school for pickup. I spend 4pm-6pm cooking dinner and chasing my children around the house to get their chores done, I abandon the mess afterward till the next day, and the kids watch a movie till bedtime while I’m already in my bed, exhausted.

Rachel B. also asks, “What is your favourite family tradition, and one you’d like to start?”

My favourite family tradition so far would have to be how we stretch out my kids’ birthdays over a week and a half of festivities. First, on the actual day of the birthday, Celebrating Child and I go out for a special breakfast at Denny’s. When they were little, the kids each took great delight in showing the server their very own passport with their birthday marked on it; now that they’re older, I think we all just appreciate having the other’s undivided attention for a while.

Odds are 6-1 that the birthday will fall on a socially awkward day since there’s only one Saturday each week, so the birthday party is usually on the weekend following so that their grandparents can attend. I try to make whatever the child would like for their birthday dinner, I love to make a special cake by request, and of course there are lots of treats and presents. We start around 4pm and go late into the night.

As for a tradition I’d like to start: this one is a continuation of the “birthday” theme. The day will come when I die (sad, but true nonetheless. Possibly next Tuesday). Go ahead, family, and have a nice, traditional, boring funeral for me. But on what would have been my next birthday, throw me one last party! Laugh, sing, tell crazy stories of my past shenanigans, cry if you really think you need to but more than anything, celebrate that I lived.

This idea was inspired by my mother’s passing. Ahhhh, my mom. A loveable curmudgeon, who despised celebrating her own birthday. Wouldn’t do it for love or money! In fact, because I told her that we were going to celebrate her 75^th birthday as the awesome milestone that it would be, she dug in her heels and told me that it would be “over her dead body”. I suppose she meant it facetiously, but then she promptly died four months before her birthday. The sheer nerve of the woman!!!! (Don’t get all wound up at my irreverence; if you knew Mom, you’d know she’d laugh at that.)

Since Mom hated birthday parties, and she hated balloons, and cake & ice cream, and silly hats… and since she herself said we could do it over her dead body… my husband & I, our 4 kids, mom’s brother, and mom’s sister & brother-in-law threw that party literally over her “dead body”. We put the urn with her ashes under the dining room table, stuck a silly hat on the thing, and proceeded to eat all of her cake and ice cream at her last birthday party. We cried, we laughed, we grieved and healed together. 

At one point, someone mentioned how sad it was that my uncle’s wife couldn’t be with us (she had predeceased Mom by about 6 months), because wouldn’t Aunty Pam have thought this was a hoot? So my uncle went and got the urn with her ashes, too, and stuck it under the table next to mom’s. Yay, now we were all there!!!

It was great. So much better than the serious stuff.

Stephen K. also asks, “What's your favourite serious movie? Favourite love story? Favourite comedy?”

Ooooohhhh, these are fun questions. I think I’ll answer all three. (Descriptions shamelessly stolen from IMDB.com)

My favourite serious movie: Uncommon Valor, starring Gene Hackman. 1983, “R”
Ten years after his son went M.I.A. in Vietnam, U.S. Marine retired Colonel Jason Rhodes assembles a private rescue team to find Americans held in P.O.W. camps in Laos.

I have seen this movie over 50 times since I first watched it in my mid-teens, and I’m not usually a “war movie” type. What struck me then and has stuck with me since is the intense fear, hope, duty, and compassion that each member of the team has to personally confront as he prepares for and participates in the mission. There are scenes in this movie that are hard on the eyes, ears, and mind but they serve a greater purpose in driving the story. I would definitely share this with my own children, but I’ll wait till they’re older.

A great love story: The Choice, starring Benjamin Walker and Teresa Palmer. 2016, “PG-13”
Travis and Gabby first meet as neighbors in a small coastal town and wind up in a relationship that is tested by life's most defining events.

Was this a trick question? Because up until a year ago, I would’ve said, “I haven’t got one. Romances are dumb.”  I was stumped to come up with a title for you, Stephen. So I googled “best romantic movies ever” or some such for inspiration and ended up at IMDB’s list[7] of the best 103 they had to offer. I stopped reading the list after the first five entries because, yes, I’ve seen them and *gasp!* I can’t stand any of them.

However, I find that I’ve mellowed lately, and my increasingly jaded heart has been seeking lighter fare complete with a happy ending à la Hallmark. I can’t say that the noted movie is a favourite necessarily, but I watched it a couple of days ago and laughed & cried through most of it. I thoroughly enjoyed the whole experience.

My favourite comedy: El Dorado, starring John Wayne, Robert Mitchum, and James Caan. 1967, not rated.
Cole Thornton, a gunfighter for hire, joins forces with an old friend, Sheriff J.P. Hara. Together with an old Indian fighter and a gambler, they help a rancher and his family fight a rival rancher that is trying to steal their water.

Years ago, a friend of mine told me that if I only ever watched one John Wayne ‘cowboy’ movie in my life, it absolutely had to be El Dorado. He was right. This classic western may not strictly be classified as a comedy but I sure wouldn’t say it’s a drama, or suspense, or whatever else you want to pick. A critic might say that director Howard Hawks was ripping off his own work of Rio Bravo, and many grumps in the cheap seats have said exactly that, but I don’t care because I like El Dorado and it makes me happy. Good enough for me.

Mrs. Beisser’s nicest daughter, ‘R.’ asks, “What is your favourite summer activity, and why?”

Easy-peasy!! My favourite summery thing to do is fire up the barbecue, cook up loads of yummy stuff, and share it all with family and friends in my backyard. I’m also a fan of picnics in general, but I especially like prepping the goodies and then having my handsome husband get the grill going. I love the sharing and the munching and the time spent with people who matter most to me.

Justin T. from Ottawa asks, “Would you consider running for public office this fall?”

I might consider running away from one, but no, I definitely would never want to stand for election for anything. The less authority and influence I’ve got, the better for all involved. No one in their right mind would even ask me to do so.

For one thing, I’m no democrat. I don’t believe that people collectively know what’s best for themselves, I don’t think that decisions should be made solely to please the masses, and I no longer have the patience to play well with others. I’d be a good dictator, though. I’d be nice about it.

Seriously, can you imagine me making public policy on anything? I’d give Louis Riel a knighthood and offer to hang Lucien Bouchard for treason. I’d probably try to make laws like “everyone needs to wear a hat when it rains”, or let everybody have their birthday off work with pay, or declare war on Iguanastan[8].

I am truly thankful for our opportunity to participate in free elections in Canada, however flawed or goofy our system may seem at times. It’s a privilege and a civic responsibility that I take seriously. I’ve taken my children with me to nearly every polling place I’ve gone to over the past years – I want them to know how precious it is to have a voice of any kind.

Our next federal election should pop up on or before October 21, 2019. Please confirm your eligibility to vote, or update your information, here: https://www.elections.ca/content.aspx?section=vot&dir=reg&document=index&lang=e

Well, this was a ton of fun for me! I also enjoyed experimenting with the use of footnotes in a blog, and I can say with some confidence now that they're not great in this format.

Remember to keep an eye out for your Voter Information Card in your own Mail Bag this fall.

~ 30 ~

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[1] Link that should aim you toward lots of Dave Barry goodies: https://blogs.herald.com/

[2] Link for typical Bill Simmons fare: http://www.espn.com/espn/page2/story?page=simmons/021003

[3] Let me know if you figured out which question was bogus.

[4] Allons-y means “Let’s go!” in French. No, I am not really bilingual. I know just enough French to embarrass myself in both of my national official languages.

[5] If I did this correctly, this should be a YouTube link to the best video of Solsbury Hill: https://youtu.be/WeYqJxlSv-Y

[6] If you’re in the mood for some trivia on this song, check out https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Solsbury_Hill_(song)

[7] Internet Movie Data Base’s list of the Best Romantic Movies of All Time: https://www.imdb.com/list/ls050296477/.

[8] That’s not a real place. But if it were, I’m sure the iguanas would be foul, soulless anarchists who had it coming.

If you’re a reader, then I’m a writer.

Today’s burning question is, “Kim, are you a writer?”

When I attended my high school class’s 30-year reunion a couple of years ago, I was surprised by how many times my former classmates asked if I had become a professional writer. Ummm, no, I hadn’t. Not exactly.

At first, I was really disappointed in myself to answer that in the negative. I used to love to write creatively – poetry, essays, personal journals, well researched pieces or off-the-cuff nonsense – but it’s not something I’ve ever really done professionally more than a small handful of times. Since entering into the Parenting Zone, I don’t put any time at all into much that’s creative anymore, due primarily to sheer exhaustion and a slight match-3 gaming addiction.

I still have the first paycheck I received for a written piece. The publisher of The Kootenay Advertiser in Cranbrook, BC gave me the opportunity to do a book review, probably more to get me to go away and stop bothering him than out of any hope that I might actually put something together. Surprise! He liked it, it was published, and I could’ve successfully traded effort for money if I’d taken the check to the bank. Don’t let anyone tell you that I’m not sentimental.

I later ended up working at that paper for a while as a proofreader, not a writer, and here’s why:

• I am highly detail-oriented (read that as “nit-picky” if you like), and
• I go to pieces creatively if there is a deadline

Working in the production department of a newspaper turned out to be my absolute favourite job of all-time, easily beating out “waitress” (I will literally refill your tea cup with coffee, I’m that bad) and way more fun even than playing in the mud or climbing scaffolding as a construction project manager. While with the Advertiser, I occasionally had the opportunity to write a bit here and there, but it didn’t take me long to discover that the anxiety unleashed by an impending deadline was death to my creative process. Can’t draft a piece and vomit at the same time; far too messy and awkward.

When I eventually moved to the Lower Mainland, I chose to look for work on the production end of the publishing arts – physically putting the paper together, pre-press – rather than in the Editorial department.

Goodness, no! I'm not THAT old!

Away back then, in the late 1980s and into the 90s, newspaper publishing was going through a transition from manual to digital composition. No, I did not have to hand-set reversed lead letters onto trays (it wasn’t the 1880s) but typesetters then were the production mystics who magically coded all of their Compugraphic type and pulled it out of the processor like typographic bunnies popping up from a hat. All of the columns of editorial type and every bit of an advertisement were stripped into the layouts by hand and stuck on with soft wax so the strips could be repositioned. Pictures processed in the darkroom by other wizards were outlined manually with “hairline” tape; inevitably, the soles of my shoes were covered in tidbits of tape and waxy paper. Everyone ran around with Xacto knives in their hands; mine lived in my back pocket and I accidentally washed it through the laundry countless times. (I still have my own pristine E-gauge and an 18-inch metal line gauge, and I’ll definitely smack your hands if you touch them!) 

I love my line gauge. Don't touch.

By the time I left that industry in 1997, all of the composition and production was digital – the darkroom and processors with their nightmare mixtures of chemicals were gone, the waxers had hit the scrapheap, and all of our proofs were printed on plain white, 20-lb copy paper to be scribbled on with whatever pen you had handy because the final version never appeared on paper till it came off the press.

When I was with the Advertiser, which published once a week, 95% of my time was spent proofreading everything from 2-line classified ads to double-page feature spreads, plus all of the editorial content that was either written in house or submitted by the public. The other 5% of my time was taken up by trying to be helpful on press-day, wherever a spare pair of hands were needed, till all the layouts were approved for press by the Production Manager.

Someone once posted an error-riddled piece that had published in a different, local paper up on our lunchroom bulletin board, with a sweet note like “this won’t happen here with Kim around!”; the publisher gave me a nice raise that week, too.

My time later at the North Shore News was the most fun earning a wage that I’ve ever had in my life – I still can’t believe what they paid me there to do something I enjoyed that much. I worked night-shift so I rarely had to dress up or see the executives (yay, jeans & T-shirts forever!). As the shift went on and the building emptied of every other department except for us Prod Squad heathens, the work flew by and the stereo just kept getting louder. Because the bulk of our work was labour-intensive but not massively tasking on the brain, we all sang along with varying degrees of volume and talent, or we listened to the Canucks hockey games on the radio. Eventually, we were all trained up on the new digital graphic composition software so we had to think a little more and sing a little less, but it was still like a party at your friend’s house every day. Good times!

All of that to say this: nope, not a writer when I worked for the assorted printers and  newspapers.

After 10 years, I left the papers behind and went back to school, graduating from BCIT in 1999 as a newly minted Building Engineering Technologist. That translated into a job with an engineering company where I was a construction project manager, working mostly with building envelope retrofits on wood frame construction. People’s eyes used to glaze over whenever I gave that answer to the typical “what do you do for a living?” chit-chat question, so I would usually add this cheeky bit, too: “I wear the white hat and tell the boys what to do.” (Not entirely true, but pretty accurate, really.)

Part of my job then was to compile and create construction specifications (written instructions for what product to use to fix which thing) and issue details & drawings for how the repairs were to be carried out. I never told anyone how to swing their hammer. I just made sure that the new work was completed the way it was designed to have been done.

Construction specifications are legal documents. The joke is that nobody reads the things until they’re walking into court. They’re boring, they’re 100% technical because that’s just not the place to get creative, and did I mention that they’re boring?

"Leaky Condo" ~ fun, fun, fun.

I was also heavily involved in issuing building condition assessment reports. These are also highly technical documents, not wildly exciting to read but important in their way. If you’re helping condo owners to understand what’s going on with their homes’ structure, accuracy is everything and you definitely don’t want to get dramatic (the repair bill will be scary enough for anyone.)

To summarize: yes, I was a writer in the engineering field, but I wasn’t producing anything that anyone would actually want to read.

In early June of 2003, I retired from the construction industry. That date miraculously coincides with the birth of my first child, and I’ve had the blessing of being an at-home parent ever since. Worse hours, lousy pay, and my coworkers are beyond strange, but I like the boss so I hang around.

But…. Maybe now, I’m a writer? You’re reading this mess (and thanks for that!), and I wrote it, so I guess that’s how this works? I press the “publish” button and that identifies my role as “author”. I’m still not entirely sure where I’m going with this whole blog experience but it is fun. It has prompted some deep thoughts on my part that I wasn’t entirely expecting, and has launched some interesting discussions & heart-to-hearts with my significant other, so that’s been worthwhile.

I think that I will keep writing for a while yet. I hope that you will enjoy reading along, too.

~ 30 ~

We are what we are.

Now that I’m done hollering and crying, I might as well write for a few minutes. I’ve spent most of the last 50 years trying not to feel the strong emotions and then avoiding expressing those that snuck in anyway. Turns out that’s not a healthy way to live your life – who knew? (okay, everybody but 49-year old me knew that.) But we are what we are.

Today is my birthday; I am now officially 50 years old. Today is Tuesday and I’m hosting my celebration birthday party this Saturday, so today was intended to be a pretty quiet day. I was going to get some extra rest and try to shake off this annoying fever/sore throat/ugly headache thing that’s been bugging me for the last couple of days… no big deal. Peaceful rest; quiet day…

Suddenly my kids are all screaming, “MOM!!!!!!! Alli’s got a raccoon!!!! MOMMMMMMMM!!!!”

If you haven’t seen us in person lately, then you might not know that Alli is our lovable, adorable, sweet-natured pet. She’s also an 85-pound German Shepherd with a God-given, instinctive prey drive. The same mouth that will tenderly lift a mini-marshmallow out of your hand like a whisper was now literally going for the jugular on a wild animal that is equally equipped to defend itself. Cue the growling and all the excitement and fuss you’d expect on this week’s backyard edition of Predator vs Prey, plus the audience crying.

(Side note: I have an impressive “mom” voice. I’ve unintentionally made other people’s kids straighten up at the grocery store. But it turns out that my mom voice is nothing compared to my deep, authoritative, military grade dog-command voice – I’m sure the neighbours down the street heard my “LEAVE IT!!!”)

The short answer is that the dog is scratched up but not hurt, the raccoon got away under her own power and I truly hope she’s not badly injured, and my kids have settled down now that they know Alli’s had all of her shots. I was afraid that I’d have to cart off a dead raccoon but thankfully, that didn’t come to pass. Once the show was over, all that adrenaline turned on my water-works, too, and I had a good cry.

“Why would Alli do that?” was a popular question with the under-12 crowd. But we know the answer, right? She’s not a bad dog – she’s a dog. Dogs have that instinct to catch their own meals. Some dogs have it more strongly than others, and some dogs (like Alli) have the size, skill and ability to act on that drive. I didn’t think that a raccoon would come through the gap in our locked, back gate in broad daylight when that fence line so obviously smells like a big dog patrols it on a regular basis, but I was wrong. Dogs, raccoons… we are what we are.

Really?

While that is definitely true for animals, it doesn’t have to be the unchangeable truth for people. I can learn, I can grow, I can become better. Or I can be hurt, I can hide, I can withdraw. Worse yet, I can be wounded and then lash out and become the problem that someone else is learning to overcome. That’s a sobering truth, especially as a parent. While I am “this” today, I don’t want to still be stuck here tomorrow, or next week, or on my next birthday. I want to do better, to feel better, to be a better me, to become the best “me” that Christ had in mind when He set me loose on the world.

So… I’ve started in the past couple of years to figure out why I do the things that I do, and see if I could truly improve my physical, mental, spiritual, and emotional health. (Short answer: yes, I’m getting there, on all fronts.) There have been some intensely difficult, uncomfortable moments of sorting out childhood trauma, of repairing mistakes that I had made myself, of seeking forgiveness and of offering it to others. I’ve seen some beautiful, wonderful signs of healing that I know could only have come through God’s endless grace, and I know in my heart that He has far more in store for me yet.

I’ve had to really work at opening up about how I feel, too, which is difficult for me. My handsome husband has always been a safe and willing ear to listen to me but it’s my nature to keep everything all bottled up; I’m learning. I recently found the courage to share a truth with him that, even after nearly 18 years of marriage, Mike had no idea about: I prefer Pepsi over Coke. Yep, I really do. We are what we are.

~ 30 ~

From the Vault: "I'm breaking up with Hockey"

originally posted on Facebook, January 2013

This is hard to say, Hockey, so I'm just gonna be honest with you: it's over. 

We've been together a long time, and we've been through a lot together. I still remember when we first met, when I was just a baby cuddled in my daddy's arms while he was hollering at the refs in a Habs game. You were so bright and shiny back then. 

Remember when I was 5, and I thought that the HNiC theme music was our national anthem? "bump-dumpty-bump…". Yeah, those were good times. 

I stood by you in '94 when you got into that bit of trouble in downtown Vancouver. You promised that you'd clean up your act, and I admit that for 17 years you kept your word and we didn't have any more "incidents" like that until you fell off the wagon in 2011. It broke my heart to see you do that to yourself; Hockey, I love you, but I cannot enable your destructive behavior anymore. 

You know these past few years have been hard for us, Hockey. You see it, too. You've changed a lot over the years. You are too high-maintenance for me. It's great that you're stronger and faster, but you've never completely shed your mean streak and nobody can make you see that your head-shots and dirty tricks are an embarrassment. I'd hoped you would outgrow that and mature but I was wrong. 

I'm also worried about the friends you keep -- do you really believe that the League, and Owners, and political button-pushers have kept your best interests in mind? They're using you, Hockey, but you won't see it. 

I didn't initially agree with your decision for us to take a break last fall, Hockey, but you ignored my opinion and launched your lockout anyway. But I'm glad for that after all because some time apart has given me the opportunity to see our relationship for what it really had become. I have had my moment of clarity. It was all one-sided, it all had to be your way: you set the schedule, you picked the jersey, it was always, "Hey, come watch me" and "Buy my stuff" but never once did you check to see if you were meeting my needs. 

I've barely heard from you in months, but I've heard a lot about you. I heard you were running all over Europe with whatever team would sign a check that week. That's low, Hockey. 

Then last week, out of the blue, you show up on my front steps like you'd never been gone. Like I should welcome you right back in? Well, that's not going to happen, Hockey. I figured by Christmas that you were never coming back and that we were through once and for all. 

I've started seeing other sports, too. Nothing serious yet -- it's too soon, I need to heal -- but you might as well hear it from me. I was out a few times with CFL last fall, and I've made some new friends at NFL, too. My dear friend MLB will be back in the spring, and who knows where that might lead? But regardless of those friendships, I have to stand my ground here and say goodbye, Hockey. 

We're through. 

I packed your stuff and it's in a box in your mom's garage. Good luck.

~ 30 ~

From the Vault: "Bibleholic"

previously posted on Facebook in January 2014

I repost this from time to time. Sometimes someone will ask for it, and other times I think I just enjoy the sound of my own voice in my head... but anyway, for the New Year and to encourage all of our annual reading schedules and whatnot, I give you "The Bibleholic Testimony".

Hi, my name is Kim, and I’m a Bibleholic. I have become completely addicted to reading my Bible every day.

My Bible reading habit started out innocently, years ago. I would just read the Bible socially, usually if I was out with friends on Sunday morning. At first I think I was only reading a little bit so that I would feel like I fit in with the crowd, but of course I kept at it and eventually got a taste for it myself. I could see others around me who didn’t seem to need their Bible and could put it aside on a whim, but soon I realized that I could not stop by myself. I needed that Bible, more and more. Now I read the Bible daily and usually when I am alone.

Even on my “good” days, I wake up and reach for my Bible first thing. The day can’t really start without getting in that first couple of verses; without that, I don’t feel like I can function. On “bad” days, I go back to the Bible over and over and over. I have developed a 3- or 4-chapter a day habit, and at this rate I’ll probably go through the whole thing in just a year – even as I write that, I have to be honest and admit that even that won’t feel like “enough” and I’ll still keep going back for more. I have my favorite Bible, of course, and I don’t even hide it around the house anymore; it’s right out in the open, I’m almost defiant about it. But I also have a couple secret stashes, including a small book of Psalms and the New Testament hidden away in my purse, just in case.

I’ve heard that the true mark of addiction is when you see your personality change because of the stuff, and I know that’s happening to me. Seems like the more I read my Bible, the more different I get, and people who knew me years ago barely recognize my current behavior. I act different, I sound different, and I even look different. I don’t have much interest in what seemed like fun back then, before I developed my Bible addiction. Seems like everything I want to do now, and any of the people that I want to spend time with, are all related to that Bible. Most of my old friends gave up and stopped calling a long time ago when they realized I was going to put the Bible first over them.

Of course no one wants to be alone all the time, and I found myself deliberately choosing to spend my time with other people who are just as into their Bible as I was getting into mine. I guess we enable each other because nobody is talking about quitting! And as long as I’m being completely honest here, I better admit that I have encouraged a lot of other people to read the Bible themselves. Even children. Yes, I have actually given Bibles to my own children, while they were still too young to really choose for themselves. And not watered-down kiddie versions, either – I gave my kids the full KJV, the real deal.

So this is how I’m living today, a full-blown Bibleholic. I know the trend today is to say everybody is a victim but I have to admit that I chose this, knowing full well what I was ultimately getting into. And I am not interested in any worldly “interventions” that might “cure” me of any of this. On the day I die and go to Heaven, I want everyone who knows me to say, “We knew this would happen – she just wouldn’t put that Bible down.”

~ 30 ~

The only thing in my house that is not covered in dog hair is the cat.

As you can imagine, I vacuum a lot. I should probably vacuum a lot more often than I do, too. Sigh.

Housework in general is one of those confusing tasks in my life. I was taught as a child to do a job well and then it would stay done, but that doesn’t apply to housework. If you count cooking as a housework kind of job, then this gets even worse – do a good job, and everyone begs you to do it even more. Bah! I should’ve burned the first pot of macaroni & cheese years ago so that nobody would ever expect more from me.

I’m feeling a little gloomy today, I guess.

Fortunately, my chief mess-makers are now old enough to be mess-fixers. This is a good theory and I look forward to the day when I have it fully implemented.

Part of my challenge is that here at home, as I was professionally, I am an excellent worker bee but I never wanted to be in management. I don’t want to schedule a crew, I don’t want to train or conduct performance reviews, I don’t want to cheerlead anyone towards achieving their own goals and targets. I am not a motivator and I don’t want to have to fire anyone. I just want to come in, do my job, and then go home. But did you know? Parenting doesn’t fit this worker bee model at all.

Oh well, I guess we’ll all get there eventually. In the meantime, I thought it might be fun to share some fun vacuum-related happenings and random thoughts that breeze in between my ears while I vacuum.

My mind wanders when I vacuum. For me, vacuuming prompts “shower thoughts”, just a lot drier. Probably because between the noise of the vacuum and my deafness, I cannot hear anyone anyway, but at least when I’m vacuuming, no one talks to me. When the kids were little, they never stopped talking. Never. Never ever. So the roaring racket of the vacuum was a welcome hiatus from the nonstop chatter. 

Our dog Sammy was a husky/malamute cross who shed his double-coat at a rate of 6 to 7 kgs of fluff per day. (No, I didn’t really measure it. Who would do that?)

Alli, our German Shepherd, sheds less than Sammy did.

I have 50 times more hair all over the place from Alli, though. This is primarily because Sammy was the same colour as our carpet and I couldn’t see his pupper confetti so blatantly all over everywhere like I can see Alli’s black hair.

Having these goofy dogs is worth every bit of mess they make. Love is precious. This is probably true about my kids, too, but the kids make me a little crazier than the pets do so sometimes I can’t make up my mind. (Yes, I’m kidding. Mostly.)

Lots of people call the roly-poly dust & hair collections lurking behind furniture “dust bunnies.” My mom called them “dust buffalo”.

When my kids were toddlers, I didn’t want them running around loose while I vacuumed. This was important for some reason, probably a safety thing. So I’d line them up on the couch and they’d have to wait till I was done so that I could vacuum their toes – this was a big treat, and they’d wait and giggle and get all excited till I came along and ran the vacuum hose along their slippers. To this day, Mikayla will still stick her foot in the way so I can “slurp!” it with the vacuum so I guess it made a fun impression.

Rainbow: excellent for peach skeet shooting

I was once vacuuming in the kitchen when I heard a “clunk!!!!” and lost all of the suction power. I cleaned out everything I could reach or access in the vacuum but couldn’t solve the problem. I was convinced that something was in the hose, plugging up the works. Fortunately, that vacuum had the option (or weird design? Maybe you aren’t supposed to do this?) of connecting the hose to the exhaust port instead. So I did that, then opened up my kitchen door and aimed my hose outside. I flipped the machine on and shot a peach pit clear over my carport and into the neighbour’s yard! Vacuum issue solved.

Again, when the kids were younger, we made a big deal in our family about encouraging each other. So vacuuming was a great thing for a frazzled, depressed mother to do in my house because I had 4 kids sitting up on the couch, hollering “Yay, Mommy!!! Good job vacuuming!” I miss that.

Whenever I finish vacuuming the spare room and close the door, I always wonder if the cat ran in there and now she’s locked in. I always check; she never has. I will always double-check, though.

I mess up words quite often – I kind of remember the right one, but not quite – so I have occasionally called the lawn mower the “lawn vacuum”. Now that I consider how much dog hair I regularly deal with, maybe I should start calling the vacuum the “rug mower”?

My old blue vacuum often made a high-pitched ringing noise in the motor that sounded exactly like the phone ringing. I stopped & started so many times until I finally got that figured out.

Kenmore: tried and true

Years ago, one of our hamsters was a bit of an escape artist and would run around the townhouse, having a grand adventure. I think that Stuart Little was her hero. We only figured out where she’d gone because the cat wouldn’t leave the door to the under-the-stairs closet alone. After lots of exploration, we finally found the hamster – she’d crawled all the way up the vacuum hose and had snuggled up in the dust bag. Thank goodness we found her before we used the vacuum again! After that, and even though I was pretty sure we’d closed up all of the hamster’s getaway routes, I would count heads before I turned on the vacuum.

There’s an old cliché that “nature abhors a vacuum”, but I like mine. Yes, that’s a horrible pun and all out of context. No, I do not regret it.

~ 30 ~

Time for a little something…

Mike & I and the kids joke that we are all Pooh Bears: a little round and a lot loving. One of the things I especially like about Pooh is that he is always interested in the next snacking opportunity.

Earlier in my blogging career (last week) I decided that this was not going to become one of those rambling, almost useful recipe sites. Some of them are probably really good, but most of the ones I’ve come across have an enticing heading like “Delicious Dinner Ready in 10 Minutes” and then you get to the site and it’s all about “… when my college friends and I met for our annual Tuscan retreat, we enjoyed a sunset walk in the hills, and then…” and they’ve lost me.  I just need everyone to get to the point.

Oh.

Me, too. Ahem…

I do enjoy food, though. I like the whole process from planning to getting to making to serving & enjoying. Going grocery shopping is half treasure hunt and half math word problems come to life, so I’m loving that. I love to cook, to try new tastes and ingredients, to put something fun on a plate and make my family happy. A holiday get-together is typically my personal mission to put a spare 5 lbs onto each of my loved ones. My favourite thing to say is, “Hi! I’m glad you could come. What can I get for you?”

** Audience Participation Time**  

If I’ve ever made something for you, please comment and tell me what you liked & why. Or have you seen something I posted on Facebook and wished you could try it? Let me know.

Since I’ve been enjoying (sounds better than “suffering”) some chronic illness issues for the past couple of years, I don’t spend as much time messing about in the kitchen like I used to. It makes my heart sing when I get a chance to bang together some pots, and one or another of the kids will come along and hug me and say, "I’m glad you’re feeling better today. What are you making?”

To hit today’s post goal of “50 of something”, I’m going to share with you the following:

• My favourite 10 things to cook or bake
• My 5 favourite food shows to watch
• The best 10 things I’ve ever eaten out in the world
• 5 Times that I made something amazing
• The 5 worst things I’ve ever made
• 5 things I’d love to do that involve food
• 10 restaurants I will always say “yes!” to

My favourite 10 things to cook or bake 

Mario pull-apart cupcakes.

1. Roast turkey with all the trimmings: bacon stuffing, mashed potatoes, gravy, steamed vegetables, & cranberry sauce.
2. Birthday / special occasion cakes. Not that the cake is all that spectacular (and it often comes from a boxed mix) but I get a kick out of decorating something special for my kids. My efforts are definitely homemade and NOT professional but it makes us all happy and that’s the best bit.
3. Any BBQ team-effort, where I prep and then Mike grills. Maui beef ribs, teriyaki chicken and grilled potatoes are excellent choices.
4. Worldmark Guacamole. Fresh avocadoes, lemon juice, some signature Worldmark condo seasonings, and lob them all into a bowl, mash it all up by hand with a fork, and then devour it on everything from chips to grilled chicken.
5. Cookies. Especially chocolate chip, almond roll-outs, or shortbread.
6. Chicken enchiladas.
7. Sweet & sour pork.
8. Brownies.
9. Chicken or beef fajitas.
10. Stormy-day bean soup. It’s kind of a bean & ham chowder that suits the crockpot perfectly.

My 5 favourite food shows to watch

1. Dinner Impossible, with chef Robert Irvine
2. Chopped
3. Beat Bobby Flay
4. The Urban Peasant, with chef James Barber
5. Iron Chef

The best 10 things I’ve ever eaten out in the world 

(in no particular order)

1. The delicious meal that our friends Elsa & Douglas prepared for us while we were in Indio, CA. I’m not fluent in Spanish, but I think that “carne asada” means “I love you”. Yes, it does
2. Osaka’s Special For Two – a little bit of everything to share with Mike at our favourite Tepanyaki restaurant in Vancouver. If you go, be sure to ask for Johnny or Roland to cook for you.
3. A 2-pound lobster at a fancy restaurant in Disneyland. Ridiculously overpriced but the yummmmm!!!! was so worth it.
4. Roast beef and chicken cutlets, mashed potatoes, gravy & veggies, with pineapple upside-down cake for dessert, served at the Samoa Island Cookhouse (near Eureka, CA). Amazing meal served family-style, looked homemade (no pretense) and tasted like my grandmother made it all. Mmmmm! Liam even had seconds on the cake.
5. Crab with ginger and green onion sauce, at Mr. Ho’s restaurant in Burnaby.
6. Candied salmon on a fancy green salad at some restaurant up in Whistler.
7. Anything savory or sweet at Crepe Breton, which sadly is no longer operating in Vancouver because the owners retired and went back to France full-time. (Crepe Montagne in Whistler is an excellent substitute.)
8. Clam chowder we found at a little restaurant somewhere in Monterey Bay, CA. Even better than the goodies offered on San Francisco’s Fisherman’s Wharf.
9. Anything on the menu at Mary’s Pizza in Santa Rosa, CA.
10. Calamari with tzatziki dipping sauce at Kyllo’s in Lincoln City, OR.

5 Times that I made something amazing

1. Catered dinner for Dave & Terry’s 30^th Anniversary: I made my own plan just like Chef Robert Irvine would have done it, and prepped & served a backyard buffet for about 40 people. Appetizers, salads, sweets & savory bits, and my crowning achievement was serving crab in ginger & green onion sauce as the main course. I cooked 24 crabs in 12 batches, complete with fresh sauce, all from scratch. It turned out better than I could’ve ever hoped.
2. Christmas Eve fondue extravaganza. A variety of seasoned meats sizzled in oil, plus assorted sausages & bread cubes dipped in hot cheese. (This was a fancy splurge that Mike & I did a couple times before we had kids. The idea of an open flame & hot oil anywhere near children is scary.)
3. I served fresh deep-fried wontons at a church picnic. I did all of the prep at home and then took my propane-fired turkey fryer to the park. Mikayla teased me that even at a picnic, I found a way to hide in the kitchen, but it seemed to me that everyone came by to see me. Several times.
4. Hosted a burger & dogs barbecue (plus salads & desserts) for all of Metro’s youth workers. A college’s travelling singing team joined us, plus a few neighbours and friends who saw all the tents and stopped in to see what was going on. Then the rain hit and I ended up with my Mom watching a moving with all the little kids down in the basement while everyone else squished into the living room and we all sang. One guest sent me a ‘thank you’ note because I served bacon on the burgers; my kind of guy!
5. The open-house, “thanks for helping us!” buffet we served for everyone who helped us move out of Noel and into Briar. My new kitchen is big, and I lined the acre of countertops with crockpots and filled the island with pick-up goodies. My favourite bit was the bacon-wrapped chicken bites. I should make those again…

The 5 worst things I’ve ever made

The only good thing to say about any of these is that I have not repeated the same mistakes.

1. Chili con Carne, when I put rosemary in the sauce for some unknown reason.
2. Seafood Chowder, when I mistakenly used sweetened condensed milk instead of evaporated milk.
3. Carrot muffins, with a package of muffin mix that was way, way past its best-by date.
4. Fresh bread, with yeast that had expired and soured. No, not the good kind of “sourdough”. More like rancid.
5. The first steak that I ever barbecued and served to Mike. Rare meat shouldn’t ‘moo’ when you serve it.

5 things I’d love to do that involve food

1. Eat my way across Greece. I want to try everything in small, family restaurants.
2. Go to an American country fair and try the crazy treats they serve there.
3. Prepare a prime rib & all the trimmings dinner for my Metro friends and family.
4. Make crepes properly at home with a real crepe stone.
5. Spend a summer of “date-nights” checking out food trucks and trying stuff I’ve never had before.

10 restaurants I will always say “yes!” to

Kleftiko: slow-roasted lamb, Greek style

Again, these are in no particular order. 

It was hard to only list 10.

1. White Spot. Bring on the BC beef burger with sweet potato fries.
2. Mr. Ho’s Wonton House. Best dry garlic ribs on the planet, and their salt & pepper squid is fabulous. All the veggie dishes are knock-outs, too.
3. Osaka Tepanyaki. Even the bean sprouts are fabulous! The mustard sauce and the ginger sauce are two things that I hope grow on trees in heaven.
4. Pink Pearl. Get as many people together for dim sum as you can, so that you can literally try one bite of 100 amazing things.
5. Sushi Garden. Mmmmm, so many little bites of yumminess, including gomae (cold spinach & sesame salad)
6. Vassilis Greek Taverna in Burnaby. “Kleftiko” is Greek for “I love you.” Trust me on this.
7. Bubble World. Okay, technically not a restaurant but a beverage place, but a peach & watermelon slush with mango jelly is filling like a meal. And they’re that good.
8. American Domino’s pizza. They have the garlic crust. (Seriously, Canadian Domino’s, get it together!)
9. Mongolie Grill in Whistler.
10. Crepe Montagne in Whistler.

Well, now I’m hungry.

~ 30 ~