Erin's Journals

Just a thought… Let us be grateful to the people who make us happy; they are the charming gardeners who make our souls blossom. [Marcel Proust]

Ah, Monday. Another quiet day here on Pender Island before we take the 45-minute ferry ride home this evening for a few appointments and errands in Sidney, BC. Just the usual: get my roots done (although I’m almost always wearing a hat), get my nails done just so they look pretty while I type. Yeah, now that I think of it, it doesn’t make much sense, does it?

Then there’s our toenails. We all show ours off more at this time of year, but this summer in truly trying to embrace island life, I bought my first pair of Birkenstocks. These flat, usually open-toed shoes have been around for decades (not my pair; I bought them new) and I never really felt a need to own them. A couple of weeks ago on a drizzly day in Sidney, I found myself looking for better hiking shoes than the Skechers I usually wear. In addition to getting a pair, I was also drawn to – and purchased – a very basic pair of Birkenstock sandals. “Finally,” I told my Gracefully and Frankly partner Lisa Brandt, “I’m a true island girl!”

Am I the only person in BC – or anywhere for that matter – plagued by blisters from them? After my first wearing, Rob had to adhere some moleskin we keep handy for my soft, sucky feet to stop the rubbing. I’ve worn them only a handful (footful?) of times since, but I’m afraid I got sucked into the hype. The plastic pair I bought for $10 in California a few years back (“before” Elbows Up) have proven more comfortable. Maybe I should have bought the plastic Birkies instead, but I wanted as authentic as I could get. Serves me right. It’s not like they’re haute couture to begin with.

Speaking of which, I read that Taylor and Travis’s wedding went off, seemingly without a hitch, in NYC on Friday with both members of the couple wearing Christian Dior. While I’m not a big Swiftie and can barely pick out Kelce from a lineup, I’m delighted that two seemingly lovely people had the party they wanted in the venue they chose. They donated $26 million to charities (many of them food banks), paid $160K for their own police security around Madison Square Garden, and managed to invite about one thousand people who, so far, have kept their fingers off their devices and their mouths shut about the no-phone event, so as to preserve some semblance of privacy for the happy couple. How they managed to keep even the servers on the downlow is beyond me. But they did. They pulled it off, and that’s amazing.

What I haven’t been able to get my head around is all of the bitter Betties and Bobs who have been obsessed with slamming T&T for everything surrounding the event. Now I’m not here to defend a billionaire and her new husband; they don’t know me and certainly don’t care what I think, nor should they. But why does everything have to be such an outrage? Leave them the hell alone. I mean, as much as the biggest pop star on the planet and her dashing husband can be “hands off.” She didn’t take over Venice like Bezos and his inflatable bride; she caused some traffic closures in a city that is hit with them so regularly it’s an event when there isn’t one.

Frankly, in the midst of a red, white & algae green shit show in Washington the past week, a World Cup rife with corruption (with Mango Mussolini himself admitting to calling the FIFA boss to get a red card suspension on a US player overturned), and a heat wave that seems to have been as punishing as last winter’s cold in parts of Canada, what on earth does it hurt to have something pleasant on which to dwell? It’s not like the Jays are brightening our moods, but the fact that we weren’t even tempted to spend big American bucks to go south of the border to watch them lose two out of three makes me a little bit grateful.

I guess what I’m saying is, to hell with the negativity. Or, more appropriately, yay positivity! Let’s celebrate what we can, when we can. Even if it’s getting two exceptional pictures of a lovely buck relaxing behind our cabin on Saturday evening.

I just happened to capture him with the perfect late-day lighting, and I’ll hover on this cloud of contentment for as long as I can, grateful we had no fireworks in our area to frighten them during our blissfully quiet Canada Day.

May your week include moments of peace, too. Oh, and comfortable shoes! Talk to you with Lisa on Thursday, or on another free Drift with Erin Davis sleep story tonight. And thank you for spending some time here.

Just a thought… Where there is kindness, there is goodness and where there is goodness, there is magic. [Ella’s Mother, Cinderella (2015)]

I think we can all agree that there’s just not enough magic in the world once we’re past a certain age. Even for some children, sadly, there’s little or none when they’re living with food insecurity, illness, emotionally unhealthy family situations or the threat or aftermath of war or natural destruction.

But I’d like to think that, in a way, I helped add to a little boy’s sense of wonder right here on Pender Island yesterday, and that’s the story I’ll share with you here.

One of our new friends in this little spot of heaven has a grandson who we’ll call Owen. A fresh kindergarten graduate, he’s spending time with his grandparents here. One of my favourite pics of all time is one that Jennifer took of her grandson on a nearby marina playground at sunset about a month ago.

Jennifer and her husband make a point of keeping fairies and pixies in Owen’s life. They visit special forests here where little houses and tiny tree doors open imaginations young and young-at-heart. Jennifer makes a point of hiding notes and trinkets in random places that they “discover” while out exploring.

Yesterday I brought a tiny gift that a neighbour in our condo in Sidney made for us. It’s a sparkly little orca to hang in a window, and I immediately knew what to do with it.

While out on a trail walk yesterday, I hid it at the base of a bench with an arrow-shaped rock pointing towards it. I texted Jennifer with the name of the trail (not far from either of our houses) and then, not half an hour later, both grandmother and grandson paid us a visit to show us the orca, with Owen thanking me for telling him where there’d been a pixie surprise. (I told him we were on a walk and spotted it, but knew it couldn’t be for US, so we had to tell him instead!)

As we left the ornament in its secret place, I told Rob there’s just not enough magic in the world and if I can help to add to it a little bit, it gives me such joy.

I’ve no doubt the whole experience felt every bit as good for me as it did for them. As they left, I proceeded to scour the place for any more surprises I could hide in future. I don’t have any, but that doesn’t mean I won’t get some. How I miss our own grandkids! But we make and find our own joy where we can, right?

I don’t need to tell you what else raises our spirits these days (not you, Blue Jays): Canada advancing in the World Cup, the waning days of rainbow celebrations as Pride month wraps up and, of course, the incredible gift of living in Canada as the 1^st of July approaches.

This year we’ll miss Sidney, BC’s terrific fireworks display on the 30^th just out on the ocean behind our condos. Instead, tomorrow we’ll quietly mark my 7^th year of sobriety with whatever cake we find in town today on Pender Island, and forego the crowds and celebrations on Canada Day. For us, just being here in the silence and counting our blessings, which number far more than 159, will suffice.

May your Canada Day be one of appreciation and a renewal of our national “Elbows Up” spirit, and hope for unity and bounty for all. Have an amazing week, and I’ll be with Lisa Brandt this Thursday for Episode 183 of our free podcast at gracefullyandfrankly.com.

Just a thought… May you give yourself permission to genuinely enjoy your life again, even if it doesn’t look how you thought it would. [We the Urban/tinybuddha.com]

Welcome to a new week and a brand new season.

Nature and time have presented us today with a big reason to celebrate (that is, if you love this season as much as I do) – the first full day of summer. We walked the dogs at 10 o’clock last night and marvelled at the shades of coral still hanging in the sky just over the ocean, which we glimpsed through the thick trees. How we love these long, lighter evenings! And we’ll cherish every minute of them that we have, just as we try to do with life itself. But sometimes, we can’t help looking back.

It was 13 years ago today that we had so much to celebrate as Lauren became a bride and Rob and I helped to make her day as memorable as it could be. It was a muggy Saturday in Jackson’s Point, on the shores of Lake Simcoe, Ontario and the rain held off so that the bubbles that greeted Lauren and her groom as they emerged from the tiny chapel on our cottage road were able to loft to the skies, accompanied by our fondest wishes for joy and laughter ever after. You can see that happiness and pride in our three faces as Rob and I both walked her down the aisle.

Of course, since then so much has changed that it still feels like that day and the 22 years that preceded it were a dream.

But today I suppose we have a different reason to feel lighter: we’ve gotten over the last hurdle of our usual spring slog where we mark our daughter’s birthday, Mother’s Day, her day of leaving, Father’s Day and then her wedding day, all between March 24 and June 22. Now that two month dark cloud on our annual calendar has passed. And on we go.

I wonder today if anyone else at her wedding stopped to remember this day 13 years ago and, honestly, I think the answer is no. Because life goes on “within you and without you” as George Harrison so beautifully wrote. We remember, and I guess that’s what matters.

It’s also why I saved this piece when I scrolled upon it on Instagram a while back, and thought it might resonate with you, too.

@jamesonarisi is a beautiful follow. And you have a lovely week.

Just a thought… It’s a tough life, and it’s the little things that get us through the day. [Jeffery Deaver]

Welcome to a new week – the second half of June and, soon, the longest day of the year in terms of minutes of light. Another summer is already landing softly (or not-so-softly, if you’re my friend and podcast partner Lisa Brandt, who’s already had two instances of multiple tornado warnings this spring in southwestern Ontario) on our doorsteps.

Cities like Toronto, and closer to us, Vancouver, have joyfully exploded with World Cup excitement, while those of us who prefer the silence fill our cups with quiet and solitude.

Nestled in the tall pines and cedars on a small Gulf Island, the sounds of hot tub occasionally running or the persistent cheeriness of a robin singing lustily morning ’til sundown, the quiet swish of a car passing by on the road past our cottage lane and the occasional riff of music carried on the wind from someone’s outdoor speaker are all we hear. I’m even finding that life in small bucolic Sidney, where our supposed residence is, just a bit too busy. Funny what we become accustomed to. It’s like my body and soul have craved this peace and silence and I just didn’t or couldn’t answer that call during our working lives, except on weekends, when we could escape to our quiet spaces.

But last Tuesday there was one night that was just a little too silent. At about 7:00 pm the power went out, something that happens on a fairly regular basis here. With high winds and so many trees, it’s not a surprise when an entire island goes dark, as it did.

We had a salad for dinner (could’ve barbecued but didn’t) and then just kind of killed time. Finally at about 10, Rob, the girls and I went to bed, as two of us worried about the next day’s task: recording episode 180 of Gracefully and Frankly.

Without getting too much into the weeds on the podcast sausage making, usually wherever I am, I’m connected by WiFi and Lisa and I hook up so we can talk to each other through our respective mics/laptops, each doing recordings on our own end. Then we put them together, do some editing and mixing, adding music and other touches, and it goes up to the world the next day. Rob and I had figured out how I’d connect to my phone’s signal and link with Lisa that way. Phew.

We were about to go to sleep with our minds eased, until it occurred to me that recording without caffeine in the morning was going to be a BIG problem. What to do?

“Ah!” I exclaimed, “I boil water for coffee on the barbecue like I did camping last year, and use our French press!”

And that’s when Rob reminded me of something.

Have you ever seen that episode of The Twilight Zone where Burgess Meredith plays a mousy bank teller who only wants to read? He has no time, and no one will allow him the quiet to do what he truly wants: pore over countless books.

Well, then there’s some apocalypse (of course there is; the show was made in the shadow of the not-so-Cold War). Everyone’s perished but our bookish friend, who’s delighted to see that the massive town library still stands. With unfettered joy, he methodically stacks the library’s majestic stairs with the classics and just as he’s about to dive into them, his thick glasses tumble off his face to the ground, their lenses shattered beyond repair. He has all the time in the world to read, but no way now to make out what’s on the pages.

Well, to me, that story is the absolute best episode of TZ ever, and it was echoed in our little cabin as we realized that we have three ways of making coffee: our countertop machine, our Nespresso and the French press, but ALL OF OUR COFFEE IS IN BEAN FORM!

Water, water, everywhere, but not a drop to pour over ground coffee????? Yes, dear Ancient Mariner, that was my dilemma.

Fortunately, the power returned at about 10:45 pm and our G&F listener didn’t have to hear how hard I’d work to put words together in my head and get them to my mouth hole without my two or three coffees.

Crisis happily averted, and if you listen to episode 180, you’ll hear what Rob and I did by the light of a candle while we waited for the power to return. It ain’t sexy, but it was very, very funny, as was Lisa’s reaction to it.

Have a gentle week and may your cup be full of whatever gives you joy. For me, it’s Rob, the dogs, nature and coffee, but the happiness of my marriage dictates that I not share with you the REAL order in which I rank them!

Just a thought…Nothing can bring you peace but yourself. [Ralph Waldo Emerson]

Leaky eyes, rainy skies and sad good-byes…another trip to Ottawa over until who-knows-when. Remembering the “don’t be sad it’s over…etc.” but this is just how life is.

There’ll be no pictures of Colin and Jane (although I took plenty – and videos – of course), but I can tell you that they’re both healthy, happy and as busy as two baseball-playing kids can be, which of course means their parents are doubly occupied.

We were lucky enough to catch three of Colin’s games (the second one of which his Great Aunt from Kingston joined us to watch, and in which he was the difference in a winning outing), and a game and practice of Jane’s. For the most part the weather cooperated; it wasn’t until Saturday that there was a deluge and thunderstorm, but we’d planned ahead, going to see The Sheep Detectives in a theatre.

We also introduced the kids to The Lion King on TV, and were amazed at how many of the lines from the 32-year-old movie Rob and I remembered by heart. Our big regret was that our trip – planned to coincide with baseball – didn’t time out for the debut of Toy Story 5, a family tradition since Lauren was a child. But at some point we’ll likely catch it, again in their family’s living room as we did The Lion King.

One might think that a nine day stay is too long for anyone, but since we stayed at a hotel, we timed our visits so as not to disrupt their home life too much. There’s an old saying that friends/family are like fish: after three days, both start to smell. We hope we didn’t leave too much of an odour!

I’m typing this on the flight home, where it’ll be late morning by the time our Porter plane touches down in Victoria. Then we head up island and, one hour after collecting our luggage, we’ll pick up our two dogs. TWO? Yes, both: our plan to leave Livi at the breeder’s where she would be nursing a new litter of pups was derailed hugely the day before we flew out on May 29^th.

You may have heard the story on Gracefully and Frankly last Thursday. If not, please go, hear it for free, and don’t miss an episode every week with me and my bestie and cohost Lisa Brandt. I alluded to it in my journal here last Monday but it’s always a challenge to choose what to reveal here and what to save for the podcast!

To recap briefly: Livi met up with her “boyfriend” at the breeder’s and had three successful ties (what they call hooking up – literally) on Apr. 1, 2 and 3. They mated until Livi was literally snapping at Prince to leave her alone. Who hasn’t been there, right girls?

Anyway, the strange thing with small dogs is that it’s hard to tell whether or not they’re expecting. Usually a few weeks in, they turn their nose up at food, but with two dogs grazing from one bowl all day, it’s a bit hard to tell. We kept an eye on her and detected weight gain and a slower pace, and although we were still suspicious she might not be, by week eight we had convinced ourselves that we’d be leaving Dottie at the boarder’s, and Livi at the breeder’s, right after an appointment at the vet to check via sonogram how many puppies were in there.

You can imagine our surprise when the doctor came out of the examining room carrying sweet, lethargic Livi in her arms, and was shaking her head. “NONE?” I said loudly for people in the coffee shop across the street in Cobble Hill to hear. We just couldn’t believe it. I mean, yes, we knew it was a possibility, but to have mated three times and to have shown all the signs…and then not a pup in sight (just “lots of poop” the vet said) was unimaginable.

Of course, breeder Bev was disappointed, and now Livi at four-and-a-half has aged out of being a mom for Bev, which suits us. Dottie will have a go this winter, and then she should be done as well, and our contract with the breeder ends, making our two girls all ours. Not something I’d ever do again, but to have Dottie and then be given Livi has been worth all of the headaches and hassle.

By the time you read this, we’ll be all together, this half-hairy little family of ours (three-quarters if you count Rob), and our next adventure will be to drive east as far as Alberta to deliver my dad’s ashes and headstone to their final destination.

In the meantime, tonight we’re ferrybound to Pender Island (pictured below in the photo by our friend Jennifer Douglas) our laundry barely dry from the Ottawa trip turnaround, as we continue to seek to cocoon in whatever pockets of love and nature we can find.

Our hearts never truly mend from great loss, but we can gently stitch them as best we can, and hope that they hold. That’s what we do, right?