Hope I grow old before I die!

Our Pub

George and I had an evening out on the town at our local neighbourhood pub before I went on holidays. By "on the town" I mean a seven minute walk from our door along the road past weekender cottages and horse pastures...

These are a some of photos of the evening.
It was a hot summer night and a few of us met for drinks at The Whitehouse.

The pub has quite a history, taking into consideration the relative worldly scheme of things.
It was originally built as a wayside inn to serve the old stagecoach trail that ran north and south along the valley. That same road runs right by our house.
In the years since it has been bought and sold and fallen into disrepair.
The establishment is now owned and operated by a local couple - the wife being the kindergarten teacher at our elementary school...
As a matter of fact, the pub's expansive parking area, that houses an old wooden sailboat, a run down camper and a vintage fire truck, backs onto the school's playground.

The Whitehouse no longer lets rooms, but it hosts many popular events throughout the year and is considered a curious attraction by many.
It has seen its share of millionaires bellied up to its comfortable bar, helicopter tours have landed in the lot out back, the odd fisticuffs has broken out upon its warped red carpeted floors and many a band has held its debut within its hallowed walls...

I always know that when I pay the old place a rare visit, I'll likely bump into a character or two or the odd buddy out for a refreshing wee drop.

I love living in a small town!

My Little Piece of Rock and Roll Heaven...

E-bay Eyes - according to Gypsy

See me look out at the sunset
On your computer screen
Out for all that I can see
If you know what I mean

'Cause I'm e-bay eyes I'm here for sight
E-bay eyes and I'll watch the fight
E-bay eyes I'll see the road
E-bay eyes watch me explode...

I'm blue, mean and rarely unseen
I'm a commodity
Public enemy number one
Serendipity
So lock up your contacts
Lock up your glasses
Lock up your back door
And see all the masses
The eyes are back in town
Don't let them go round.

'Cause I'm e-bay eyes I'm here for sight
E-bay eyes and I'll watch the fight
E-bay eyes I'll see the road
E-bay eyes watch me explode...

FOR BETH

I very recently discovered that a dear friend of mine died in a car accident several weeks ago.

I met Beth while I was living in the province of Saskatchewan.
Beth was born and raised in a small prairie town.
Family meant the world to her and she was close to her parents, bothers, sister, various inlaws and many nieces and nephews.
I was far from my own family and hers adopted me into their fold and made me feel at home.

Beth and I lived, played and worked together for many years and we were very much like sisters.
Beth had a warm smile to go along with her endearing personality.
She was kind and had a heart of gold.
She also had an engaging sense of humour!

I had not seen Beth for several years, as she was living in Alberta and I in British Columbia, but we did stay in touch.
We also had something that we shared - we have both had children that were put up for adoption.
We found that was a strong bond and I believe that we drew strength from it.
Beth eventually found her daughter and developed a loving relationship with her and her adoptive family.

When my daughter was born, I called her Beth - short for Elizabeth - and gave her the middle name of Anne... just like my dear friend.

Beth, I will miss you and I know you would not want me to mourn - you would rather I celebrate.

I can still hear your laughter!

Sad News

I just received the news that a very dear friend of mine was killed in a car accident about a month ago...

My sixteen year old daughter, Elizabeth Anne, was named after her.

Men With Huge Hands

Is it that one attains Flaming Lips by consuming Red Hot Chili Peppers?


Food for thought...

Home at Last

It was a long journey yesterday.

This trip was a drop in the bucket compared to the long journey last year where we traveled half way round the world.
Having been to Fiji and back again last summer, Bobby and Jenny are great little travelers adn they are familiar with the necessary airport protocol.
A mere four and a half hour flight took us back across the country to our home.

Our trip began in the morning with a two hour drive to Pierre Elliott Trudeau airport in Montreal.
We had to be there earlier than ever because of the beefed up security resulting from the latest air travel threats.
We had a couple more hours to while away at the airport, so we bought lunch - three sandwiches, a fruit drink each and fruit salad for the mind boggling total of $67.00!!!
Albeit the sandwiches were delicious - gourmet to say the least - but I had a bit of a time swallowing the price...

We visited the bookstore - my favourite place to spend time while waiting for a flight - and we each bought a new book for the journey.
The copy I chose was a memoir of John Lennon written by his first wife, Cynthia. It made for easy, yet interesting reading during the flight.
Bob picked a book of The Simpsons cartoons and Jenny decided upon an activity book involving felt shapes that, when put together, make funny characters on a fuzzy background.

George met us at Calgary airport and we loaded our luggage into the van, pointed it west and headed for home.
The air was filled with a haze of smoke due to some forest fires burning down in the States - it's odd how smoke will drift hundreds, and often thousands of miles from its source.
The mountains on the western horizon did not come into view until we were very near the valley where we gain entrance to The Rockies.
The sun setting through the smokiness added to the magnificent eeriness of their craggy peaks.

We planned to sup at Melissa's Misteak, our favourite restaurant, on our way through the town of Banff.
George missed to first exit off the highway, so we were forced to take the next exit over the level railroad crossing. There was a line-up of vehicles - cars, trucks and campers, trailers and motor homes - waiting at the crossing for two one mile long trains going in separated directions to pass on Siding 29.
We did a loop de loop and headed back to the first entrance and drove beneath the tracks to avoid the wait.

The line-up of traffic should have been our first clue as to how busy my favourite town was...
We drove up and down the streets, through back alleys and round parking lots in order to find a place to safely - and legally - park the van.
There were people everywhere! The streets were crowded as though it were New York City!
We discovered, after walking several blocks, that our lovely Melissa's was overflowing with a crowd waiting outside the door.
By that time we were becoming rather tired and cranky - and we still had an hour and a half drive through the mountains.

We ended up stopping dinner at Storm mountain Lodge, a beautiful old inn looking out across the valley with a view of the mountain in the above photo.
The peak is aptly named for it seems that, even if the weather is lovely everywhere else, it is bound to be inclement over the high Storm Mountain Pass.
Our dinner was rather pricy - again - but delicious.

By the time we arrived home it was 10:30 p.m. local time, but we gained two hours on our cross country flight, so it was 12:30 a.m. for Bob, Jen and myself.
A long day by all accounts and we all slept like logs - in our own beds.

Our holiday with Grandma and Grandpa in another beautiful valley of this vast country of ours was wonderful...

...but it's good to be home!

The Passing of the Backhouse

- by James Whitecomb Riley



When memory keeps me company and moves to smiles and tears,
A weather-beaten object looms through the mist of years.
Behind the house and barn it stood, a half a mile or more,
And hurrying feet a path had made, straight to its swinging door.
Its architecture was a type of simple classic art,
But in the tragedy of life it played a leading part.
And oft the passing traveler drove slow, and heaved a sigh,
To see the modest hired girl slip out with glances shy.

We had our posey garden the women loved so well,
I loved it too, but better still I loved the stronger smell
That filled the evening breezes so full of homely cheer,
And told the night-o'ertaken tramp that human life was near.
On lazy August afternoons, it made a little bower,
Delightful, when my grandsire sat and whiled away an hour.
For there the summer mornings its very cares entwined,
And berry bushes reddened in the steaming soil behind.

All day fat spiders spun their webs to catch the buzzing flies
That flitted to and from the house, when Ma was baking pies.
And once a swarm of hornets bold had built a place there
And stung my unsuspecting Aunt - I must not tell you where.
Then father took a flaming pole - that was a happy day -
He nearly burned the building up, but the hornets left to stay.
When summer bloom began to fade and winter to arouse,
We banked the little building with a heap of hemlock boughs.

But when the crust was on the snow and the sullen skies were grey,
We did our duties promptly, there one purpose swayed the mind.
We tarried not, nor lingered long on what we left behind.
The torture of theat icy seat would make a spartan sob,
For needs must scrape the flesh with a lacerating cob,
What from a frost encrusted nail, was suspended by a string -
My father was a frugal man and wasted not a thing.

When Grandpa had to "go out back" and make his morning call,
We'd bundle up the dear old man with muffler and a shawl.
I knew the hole on which he sat - t'was padded all around
And once I dared to sit there - t'was all too big I found.
My loins were all too little and I jack-knifed there to stay.
They had to come and get me out, or I'd have passed away.
Then father said ambition was a thing that boys should shun
And I just had the childrens' hole till childhood days were done.

And still I marvel at the craft that cut those holes so true,
The baby hole, the slender hole that fitted sister Sue.
That dear old country landmark, I tramped around a bit,
And in the lap of luxury my lot has been to sit.
But 'ere I die I'll eat the fruit of tears I sobbed of yore,
Then seek the shanty where my name is carved upon the door.
I ween the old familiar smell will soothe my jaded soul,
I'm now a man, but none-the-less, I'll try the childrens' hole.


This poem has been hanging in my Mum and Dads' bathroom for longer than I can remember...

ELEVEN RULES TO LEARN AND LIVE...

Life is not fair - get used to it.

The world won't care about your self-esteem.
The world will expect you to accomplish something before you feel good about yourself.

You will not make $60,000 a year right out of high school.
You won't be a vice-president with a car phone until you earn both.

If you think your teacher is tough, wait till you get a boss.

Flipping burgers is not beneath your dignity.
Your grandparents had a different work for burger-flipping - they called it opportunity.

If you mess up, it's not your parents' fault, so don't whine about your mistakes - learn from them.

Before you were born, your parents weren't as boring as they are now.
They got that way from paying your bills, cleaning your clothes and listening to you talk about how cool you thought you were.
So before you save the rain forest from the parasites of your parents' generation, try delousing the closet in your own room...

Your school may have done away with winners and losers, but life has not.
In some schools they abolished grades and they give you as many times as you want to get the right answer.
This does not bear the slightest resemblance to anything in real life.

Life is not divided into semesters.
You don't get summers off and very few employers are interested in helping you find yourself.
Do that on your own time.

Television is not real life.
In real life, people actually have to leave the coffee shop and go to real jobs.

Be nice to nerds - chances are you'll end up working for one...



This was given in a speech by Bill Gates at a high school.
It was about things students did not and will not learn in school.
He talked about how feel-good, politically correct teachings created a generation of kids with no concept of reality and how this concept set them up for failure in the real world.


It is very important that we teach our children how to live in the real world!

I'M STILL HERE

And this is where I am...

The above photo is of the beautiful Laurentian Mountains of Quebec.

Last Saturday we did the three-hour drive to Calgary Airport and caught our flight.
I flew the four hours to Montreal with Bobby and Jenny where my mum and dad met us and drove us the last two hours home.
George and Beth stayed behind in order to go to work - not all of us gets holidays!

We've had some fun splashing in the lake, eating great food, going to the local flea market, and I stayed up way too late last night visiting with my sister.

The weather has been wonderful, but last week they had a storm similar to the one we had - trees down all over the place with power and telephone knocked out for days.
The huge tree beside my parents' house came down across the lines and we had to call the power company personally in order to have the lines reconnected.
We heard nothing for days, then Hydro Quebec trucks visited us four times in one day - I felt as though we were being stalked by the power company...

Today is a quiet day where we have the house to ourselves, so I have a moment to do a bit on the computer.

FOR KIM

The news of Kim McLagan's death has left me deeply saddened.

Kim was born Patricia Kerrigan and grew up on her parents' tea plantation in Malaysia.

However they eventually moved back to England, where Kim pursued her modeling career.

Kim later married the late - and great - Keith Moon.
Together they had a daughter, Mandy.

Kim and Keith eventually divorced, although Keith loved her very much - but only in the way Keith could.

After Keith's death in 1978, Kim married Ian McLagan, keyboard player for the sixties rock and roll band, The Small Faces.

They settled in Austin, Texas in 1994 where Kim was an esthetician at a spa that she owned and operated.

Yesterday Kim died suddenly in a tragic car accident.

I have sent prayers for Ian, Mandy and the rest of Kim's family.

After thirty years, Keith finally has Kim back...

WEATHER FORECAST

Hot dry winds from south - powerful switch to wet cold winds from north.
One hundred kilometre per hour gusts off the lake!
...blew wee Jenny smack off her bike into the ditch.

We don't have to worry about the entire forest burning... there's less forest left to burn.
Our house didn't blow away, but the trees did...

The background music to our days are the clean-up crews - like rock and roll stars wielding chainsaws.

The Conflagration of the Netty

The summer of 2003 was hot and dry.
In a region where the forest fire threat remains high even after a week's worth of rain - it was near deadly when not a drop of precipitation had fallen for more than two months.

The drive through Banff and Kootenay National Parks was marred by thick acrid smoke, flames and floating cinders.
The nearest city eventually became out of reach when the road was closed, due to the dozens of hungry blazes devouring the countryside.

The fires also threatened our small settlement on the western slopes of the Rockies, and we had our valuables and emergency supplies at the ready in case of a last-minute evacuation notice.

During that hot summer I was laid up with a painful set of broken ribs sustained in a recent mountain biking accident.
My whole left side was incapacitated and I could do nothing but lie carefully on the couch propped up by pillows.

I lived there and I slept there...

A huge gash had been ripped open on my left buttock, as well, resulting in a large haematoma that only added to my discomfort as both boo-boos vied for supremacy.

Unfortunately, as a mother of three school aged children, life does not stop due to illness or injury.
It remained that I had to rise in the morning, make meals, clean the house, look after the books and go to work.
That all can be very taxing at the fittest of times!

We also had various relatives visit us for the entire month of August.
My sister-in-law flew out from Toronto with her fifteen year old son and nephew for a fortnight.
The following weeks my brother came out to visit from Ottawa with his nine year old and eleven year old sons.
It was a hectic time - all with me flat out sporting a series of bung ribs and a sorry butt.

During the time my sister-in-law was here, one of our neighbours across the way hosted a lovely wedding for their grandson.
The couple was piped in and married in the garden.
We attended the following reception with dancing and live music - which included my George on bass guitar, a lead guitarist, a violinist and a piper.

I retired relatively early from the festivities, due to a certain amount of discomfort and the responsibility attached to my label of Mother.

At two o'clock in the morning I was roused suddenly by my sister-in-law shouting those words I had been dreading... FIRE!
I leapt from bed - broken ribs and ripped butt be damned - and flew upstairs.
Looking out the kitchen window I could see a column of flames leaping high into the tree tops - the tinder-dry treetops...

My hands shook as I dialed the local volunteer fire department and did my best to explain what was happening and where we were located.
I always thought I'd be very cool in a situation like that.
...apparently not.
I ran back downstairs to rouse the children from bed and hauled them back upstairs and outside.

We stood in horror as we watched the neighbours rented blue plastic outhouse writhing in a crackling dance of flames and smoke - dangerously close to their house and the trees.

In no time there were five garden hoses hissing and sputtering through the burning and melting mass that was once the loo.
As the fire department arrived, the last of the fire was being drowned by the quick-thinking souls who had such presence of mind to gather hoses and water within mere seconds.
The fire fighters then set their hoses upon the surrounding trees to avoid any further spread of the inferno.

As it turns out, the wedding party, who had been strongly advised against it, had kept a candle lit in the plastic port-o-potty.

All for the sake of ambiance...

I have updated the hair a bit...


Mustn't forget the other half of said rhythm section...

Bobsgirl and the rainbow...
if you'll look closely
- no, closer... that's it!
... the end of the rainbow is in her wineglass.

The best damn rhythm section in all of rock and roll...

All this talk of dancing...

Yesterday was a great day.
We rose early and took Beth to work where she serves fancy coffees and sandwiches to hungry tourists.
The rest of us headed into town for the free pancake breakfast presented by the Chamber of Commerce to celebrate Valley Appreciation Day.
Main Street was blocked to all traffic and vendors had their booths set up to display and sell their wares.

I bought a giant cucumber, but I had no bag for it.
I felt rather foolish walking up and down the street with a huge green vegetable under my arm, so I ducked into my workplace and left it on my desk while I returned to see what more trouble I could find.
I found another bag full of fresh veggies - picked that morning - from an acquaintance who has a greenhouse in the valley.
I promptly placed those alongside the giant cucumber on my desk.

When I returned to the festivities I was greeted by live music at one end of the street and a foot-stompin' show by the Square Dance Club at the other.

An old friend of mine - from another lifetime before kids - had a booth and was selling her beautiful stoneware that she designs, glazes and fires at her pottery studio. I decided to treat myself and bought a lovely blue-green glazed serving platter with a side dish.

I also bought two lollypops with real caterpillars encased within the candy - Jenny ate one - minus the bug, but Bobby wouldn't touch his!

By eleven thirty it was already very hot and the children were ready to go home and cool off in the lake.

I spent the afternoon doing odd jobs about the house while the temperature rose to the ridiculous height of 40 degrees C!
We had the sprinkler watering the grass so I was able to leap through it every now and then to cool myself off.

After dinner we walked to the neighbourhood pub where they were celebrating their annual fun golf tournament.
It's nice to visit with old friends whom we don't get to see very often throughout the year.
I even got to help round up the chicken for the chicken poop scramble...
The hen was let loose upon a large piece of cardboard divided into numbered squares.
A person can buy a square and the winner is the one who's square the chicken first poops on!
Simple.

The live music was a great rock and roll band with a Scottish twist called McQuaig.
The front man plays both rhythm guitar and bagpipes.
...and no, not at the same time - for any of you wise guys.

During the break between sets some of us headed down to the lake for a refreshing skinny dip off the dock... how many places can you do that during intermission?

Later in the evening, while I was minding my own business doing my version of the Highland Fling, I felt a sudden tear up the back of my left leg, followed by a searing pain that nearly dropped me to the floor.
That resulted in a long hobble home in the dark.
The usual seven minute walk took close to half and hour - although I did stop to pat the horses along the way.

In an ironic twist of fate, I believe I have just torn my Achilles tendon...

R S V P

I have always done my best to live as simply as possible.

It can be a difficult thing to do in these complicated times.

I have been fortunate enough to have discovered the ability to strip things down to the bare essentials.

This might come from the fact that I live closely with the land - without many fancy trappings.

I ache for my heart's longings and I am passionate about following my dreams...
I have never desired much in the way of material things...
I will live in the moment...
I am able to look up to the mountain peaks and take comfort in their peace...
I can also stand at the lake's edge and shout "Yes!" to the silvery glow of the moon!

I have dragged myself from bed, weary and bruised, to face yet another day and do what needs to be done for the children...

I can also dance - if not with my feet, then purely with my heart and soul - on fire!

How is it that one might become fearful and shrivel in the face of adversity and another become stronger and better for it?

I have sat with my pain and only myself for company... yet have still known in my soul that I will succeed.

But it does not happen with ease...

I understand now that I am truly Blessed.


Photo: Lake of Sacred Dancing, Colorado by Branson Reynolds Photography.

* Please read the previous post...

Waxing Reflective...

The Invitation - by Oriah Mountain Dreamer


It doesn't interest me what you do for a living.
I want to know
what you ache for, and
if you dare to dream of meeting your heart's longing.

It doesn't interest me how old you are,
I want to know
if you will risk looking like a fool
for love,
for your dreams, for the adventure of being alive.

It doesn't interest me what planets are squaring your moon.
I want to know
if you have touched the centre of your own sorrow,
if you have been opened by life's betrayals or
have become shriveled and closed from fear of further pain.

I want to know
if you can sit with pain,
mine or your own,
without having to hide it or fade it or fix it.

I want to know
if you can be with joy
mine or your own,
if you can dance with wildness and
let the ecstasy fill you to the tips of your fingers and toes
without cautioning us to be careful, be realistic, or to
remember the limitations of being human.

It doesn't interest me if the story your're telling me is true.
I want to know
if you can disappoint another to be true to yourself;
if you can bear the accusation of betrayal
and not betray your own soul.

I want to know
if you can be faithful and therefore trustworthy.
I want to know
if you can see beauty even when it's not pretty every day, and
if you can source your life from God's presence.

I want to know
if you can live with failures, yours and mine,
and still stand on the edge of the lake and
shout to the silver of the moon, "Yes"!

It doesn't interest me to know where you live or how much money
you have.
I want to know
if you can get up after a night of grief and despair,
weary and bruised to the bone,
and do what needs to be done for the children.

It doesn't interest me who you are, how you came to be here,
I want to know
if you will stand in the centre of the fire with me and
not shrink back.

It doesn't interest me where or what you have studied.
I want to know
what sustains you from the inside when all else falls away.

I want to know
if you can be alone with yourself, and
if you truly like the company you keep in the empty moments.