Erin's Journals

Did you miss it, or did you see that yesterday was Blue Monday? Sunwing even had radio ads based on it! I’m actually glad I wasn’t aware of it until the day was half over; I don’t need any pseudo-scientific date circling to tell me that it’s the day that winter, bills, Monday itself and everything else just kind of pile on and make for a bad mood. We’ve got plenty to keep us blue, thanks, and all you have to do is read the news (or yesterday’s journal) for some pretty significant reasons.
 
But there was a line in the latest season of The Crown that just keeps resonating with me and it has to do with sadness. I wish I had asked my sister to pause the TV so I could go back and write it down. The words from the actress playing Queen Elizabeth went something like this: you think you are sad until something truly awful happens and then you realize what sadness really is. Of course, it sounded much more eloquent coming out of Claire Foy’s perfect face, but I’ve not been able to shake that thought.
 
My entire life from teenage years to now, I’ve presented this outward veneer of sunshine and optimism with so much sadness inside. I still remember as a teen the first time I heard the word “depression” and was strangely elated to know that what I felt was a thing. A real thing. I lived with it, sought treatment and medication for it, and have been talking openly about it ever since. 
 
Until May 11, 2015, when we learned our daughter had not awakened that morning, I had known sadness, but I had not known utter devastation. Of course, before that day, I’d faced emotional setbacks like almost everyone else: the loss of a parent, the loss of a job. But this – this was the absolute worst. As Rob says, if you’d asked him before that day if he was a happy person, he’d have said, “Yes.” And now? No. That goes for both of us.
 
Are we sad every minute of every day? Of course not. It’s like the story goes: you learn to dance again, but with a limp. (In fact, we were dancing together at home just the other night. Go figure.) Some days I look back at the first 53 years of my life and wonder why in hell I was ever sad. Of course, I know the answer now and I’m not sure I could have lived any differently if I’d known what was coming. I’m only grateful I knew what I had when I had it, you know?
 
So how do we keep going? You have to search for things that give you joy. If it’s a dreadful winter day or you think the sun is never going to shine again, you look through pictures you’ve taken of beaches and flowers – of things that warm your heart. If you’re lonely, you reach out to someone you’re missing. I am just so grateful for social media and myriad ways of keeping in touch with dear friends, and even with those I haven’t met yet, like so many people who drop in to this journal.
 
And most of all, if you’re in trouble and feeling like there’s no light on the horizon, no chance your days are going to get better, please ask for help. There’s no shame in saying “I’m in trouble.” My own mother’s life got so much brighter and happier – as did my father’s as a side effect – when she sought help for the depression that is a very dark and real rung on the ladder of our family’s DNA. At the time of her death one day short of 79, she was happy, fulfilled, grateful and loving life. Who wouldn’t want some of that?
 
If this is a blue Tuesday for you, too, book an appointment with your doctor. Life is too short to be so sad all the time. As a friend always says, if you were diabetic you’d see a doctor and perhaps take medication, right? Maybe it’s just a change in lifestyle that is in order; maybe it’s more. But whatever it is, it doesn’t have to be this way.
 
Trust me.
 

Imagine this: you wake up on Saturday morning in an island paradise. Perhaps the waves are crashing outside the sliding glass doors on your rented vacation condo. Maybe you live there and are grateful to see the mountains and palm trees within view of your bedroom window every day. Then an alarm goes off on your phone.
 
This weekend, up to 1.5 million Americans thought that their lives were about to end. For 38 excruciating, terrorizing minutes, thanks to an automatically sent warning, this came up on people’s phones. In their homes. In their beds. On the beach. In restaurants. Imagine the terror.
 

 
Just one year ago, you might have shrugged it off, saying to yourself that it was likely that someone had inadvertently sent out a message that was meant to be a test. After all, that kind of thing happens by accident. In 2015, a behind-the-scenes dry run of how the BBC would handle the passing of Britain’s monarch resulted in an apology, after one of its reporters mistakenly tweeted that Queen Elizabeth II had passed away. So, you know, when human beings are involved, things can go sideways.
 
But it’s the context of this story, the ramped-up tension that we’ve been feeling now for almost exactly a year, that made this text and its possible veracity so terrifying. Today, there are two madmen – two that we know of, two that rave aloud – who are threatening each other with their nuclear weapons. One claims to have a bigger button. The fact that the leader of North Korea has been waving his little missiles around for years now is not as disconcerting as the fact that the so-called most powerful man in the free world has taken to tweeting threats and insults and provocations to inflame an already tense situation.
 
This insanity is why people were putting their children into storm drains or huddling in their bathtubs or trying to book airline tickets or phoning loved ones in tears or rushing to be with their families for their last hours on earth together. This is why what is being sold as a simple screw-up by a staffer at the Hawaii Emergency Management Agency pitched one-and-a-half million island residents (and countless more tourists) into utter panic for 38 minutes on the Saturday of a long weekend. Because we’re in a climate where we all know it actually could happen, the same way so many of our parents felt during the Cuban Missile Crisis.
 
More recently, in 1983, the world came close to nuclear destruction once again and you may not even have heard the story, or the name Stanislav Petrov. He’s known by many as The Man Who Saved the World. It was less than a month after the Soviets had shot down KAL Flight 007. Petrov was monitoring a nuclear early-warning system when a satellite report came in that the US had launched a nuclear missile with five more to follow. 
 
Petrov judged the reports to be a false alarm (he felt an attack would be full-out, not a trickle), he ran a bunch of checks and balances through his civilian-trained brain and decided not to alert highers-up to the possible attack. In so doing, he likely prevented a nuclear retaliation on the US and its NATO allies. Why was he on my mind? 
 
Saturday, January 13th could have seen a massive scale disaster, except for two things: one, of course, it was a text sent in error as part of an internal drill at shift change. But secondly: had the so-called Commander in Chief been at a desk, in his bed, anywhere but on the golf course for those crucial minutes, would his hands have found that big button? Would his hot head and desire to move the news focus from stories of his philandering, mental instability, racism and, oh yes, collusion with Russia, just possibly have made launching the world into nuclear war the answer to his problems? 
 
Now, you may have faith that there are saner minds and stabler hands in control of the nuclear codes – and trust me, I would love to have that faith – but I think it’s pretty safe to say that we can all be very grateful to Trump for spending yet another day on his golf course at Mar-a-LOCO on Saturday. 
 
And by the way, there was not one word of comfort or leadership directed towards Hawaii or the rest of the nation that is shaking its collective head. Trump’s first tweet on Saturday came hours after he’d finished his 18 holes and had been fully briefed on the error that occurred on that beautiful stretch of islands in the South Pacific. It was about the Fire and Fury book and about his oft-bleated lament of fake news. Because, when it all comes down to it, that’s all he cares about: Donald J. Trump. Who is our Petrov? Who will save our world?
 

Here we are at the end of another week – the first full work week of January and 2018 – and I am reflecting on these days with you.
 
What did I learn? That, just as I suspected, lots of people in different occupations have work nightmares. I heard from two teachers: one of whom approached the end of the year with nightmares that she still hadn’t completed all kinds of assignments; the other who would dream in the nights leading up to the first day of school of being stuck in endless traffic and not making it to school on time or, when she got there, she was dressed only in a full slip and couldn’t find anything to wear to cover up! So there you go. We all have them, it seems.
 

 
I haven’t weighed in on the Tim Hortons protests in Ontario; it just gets too political even to say that everyone deserves a living wage. Those who detest the Liberals in general and Kathleen Wynne in particular are not going to budge. It’s where we are in 2018.
 
That’s the same reason I’ve not commented on Oprah running for president after that astounding, stirring and momentous speech on Sunday night at the Golden Globes. Until Oprah’s plans become more than just a rumour, I’ll sit back, wait and wonder what would make her give up a seemingly perfect life for four or eight years of strife and hatred directed towards her – more than she’s already had to endure during her entire career (and in this past week). Do I think she’d do an incredible job? Absolutely. Admittedly the bar is awfully low right now, but again, why would she put herself through the down, dirty and corrupt political wringer?
 
Pleasingly, I learned that there’s a great shared sisterhood when it comes to cooking and recipes. Just as I never feel more connected to my grandmother than when I’m hanging out laundry, I am somehow more connected with my mother – and my own feminine side – when I’m putting together a warm and comforting meal. I’ve loved the exchanges we’ve had on Facebook about it this week. And yes, I’ll be trying a recipe I was sent last week and if it’s good, it’s yours too!
 
Next week, I’ve an article to share with you here that opens the dialogue on the prescription drug that the coroner couldn’t rule out as the cause of our daughter’s death at 24. I didn’t want to hit you with it today as this is Friday and, just as I’d do on a radio show, I think it’s good to wrap up the week on a higher, lighter note. So that’s what we’ll do.
 
Molly’s adjusted quite nicely to life here on the west coast. We took advantage of a sunny 10°C day to walk along the beach on Tuesday and, although her stamina isn’t what it used to be, she enjoyed the change of pace, as did we. (And I only mention the temperature Tuesday as I heard Toronto set a record with 12°C yesterday. Well done!) But sometimes we come home from our shorter, wetter walks and she finds it hard to warm up. Sure she can curl up in front of the fire…
 

 
…but if we haven’t lit one yet, we’ve come up with something almost as good: a heating pad on the couch. She’s really come to like that. In fact, now she moves from seat to seat looking for that pad, that special warm spot.
 

 
Do we spoil our little 13-year-old? Sure we do. We love her and she loves us. We cuddle endlessly in the mornings and she sleeps scooched up to Rob or me at night to stay warm when I leave the door to the outside ajar.
 
We also spoil her with her treats, giving her SierraSil pet chews to fend off the arthritis that seems to accompany these wet weather conditions out here. And, of course, we feed her Caru foods, including their new, lower-priced Daily Dish. I shot a video of me serving her DD for the first time. It was a gamble: she loves their stews so much that switching up her food didn’t make sense. But you’ll see her reaction here.
 

 
Now we mix her two kinds of food, adding a bit of kibble to give her teeth a cleaning. And we’re grateful to Caru for sponsoring the audio journal. Give it a listen sometime – and have a wonderful weekend. Thanks for coming by, as always. 
 

Part of the whole moving and settling in process that we’ve gone through for the past year now here in beautiful British Columbia has been finding a doctor (which seemed nearly impossible without a family referral, which we got) and a dentist. The dentist part was much easier, as I told you last fall when I was about to get on a plane to host two events in Toronto and managed to crack a front veneer. 
 
We lucked into a place that’s new, picturesque – right on a lake – and happens to be staffed entirely by women. Except for the guy in the lab upstairs, who’s engaged to one of the hygenists. Still, Rob’s not sure this is the place for him and that has nothing to do with who’s running it or their level of service (although we’re still greatly missing the wonderful dental staff at Uptowne Dental on Eglinton). Here’s what his problem is: where to spit.
 
Although I was in the chair at least twice before he was, it didn’t even occur to me that this sparkling new office didn’t have a sink into which patients could clear their mouths after a cleaning. Instead, a suction tube is used – effectively, I thought – and nothing seemed amiss. Not so for my husband. This new situation perplexed him so much that he brought this up with the friends who’d introduced us to the dentists’ office and we were sent a link to a California dentist’s blog that explained the whole situation:

Sanitation in the Dental Office
 
Perhaps the most compelling reason to remove it was sanitation. No one wanted to clean that spit bowl, especially the assistants. In addition as described, hitting the bowl with numb lips was a challenge and often ended up with drool on the floor.
 
Water Waster
 
The cuspidor, its proper name, was also an enormous water waster and leaks from its plumbing proved to be one of the main sources of major dental office flooding. As more technology has come into the operatory, space has become more valuable and the cuspidor leakage a liability to electronics.
 
Dental Office Efficiency
 
Probably the most important cause for the demise of the cuspidor was efficiency. Time motion studies showed that dentists spent 20% of their time watching people attempt to spit and then trying to catch those annoying spit strings. Given the cost of dentistry spending that time just made procedures take longer and more expensive.

So there you go: perfectly logical, if you ask me. Seems a curious thing to be fixated on, but Rob, with whom I usually see eye to eye, is definitely not in sync when it comes to whether we need a sink. Trust me, that line works better if you hear it. Try the audio journal, won’t you? 😉
 

If you are among those who pop by my public Facebook page, first off, thank you. I post daily reminders about the journal there, as well as the odd picture and comment. Last week, I managed to get quite a bit of feedback when I posted a recipe I found on HuffPo for slow cooker macaroni and cheese.
 
A few things about that. I have fallen back in love with my Crock-Pot and it’s not just because winter weather makes me want to break up with salads permanently and just dive into comfort food. It’s because for years I could only haul it out on weekends.
 
Why? Okay, you’re going to think this is nuts, but the smell of food in the slow cooker while we were trying to nap was a form of delicious torture. It actually prevented Rob and me from getting good afternoon sleep. So that’s why we can embrace it now. And there’s also the fact that I have so much more time. I’m not getting up half dazed at 4 pm and trying to throw something together for dinner. That was life for some 30 years. Now I have the luxury of planning ahead, of anticipating the dinner that awaits.
 
Now to the recipes. I posted that mac and cheese assuming that, because of its link, it was going to be just fine. Well, I found out the hard way that I should check the veracity of recipes as closely as I do news stories when I post or link. Why? Because the ingredients pictured in the link – from which I did my grocery shopping – varied from the ingredients that ended up going in her “revised” recipe. I ended up improvising, with wonderful results, but I was not amused with the bait and switch that seemed to be going on. 
 
Don’t get me wrong – when it comes to cooking, I’m all about improvising. It’s why I found a clam chowder recipe online for the slow cooker that ended up being a pretty wonderful seafood chowder concoction once I finished with it. But it’s also why I rarely share my own recipes, as there’s so much creativity happening that isn’t on the page and I would never want to lead you astray.
 
So here’s a link to a fantastic article I found yesterday. Eight ways to make you love your slow cooker even more, from a self-cleaning method to ways to prevent chicken breasts from drying out. I hope you’ll find these as helpful and inspiring as I did. Happy home cooking!