Erin's Journals

Just a thought… A voice is a human gift; it should be cherished and used, to utter fully human speech as possible. Powerlessness and silence go together. [Margaret Atwood]

Yesterday I saw a New Year’s-ish meme come into my emails with cheery inspiration for the year ahead. And my first thought was: REALLY??? Not today, girl. Not today. I usually enjoy these and sometimes share them on my sites. But we are reading the room and it is dark.

The world order is in the process of being tossed out like last year’s holiday detritus. The America that people thought they knew, after a long and bright and loud season, is now that tired, dried-out Christmas tree with a few sad bits of glitter still clinging to its browned branches, just waiting to be hauled off and chipped into something unrecognisable.

Today we continue to awaken from the mist of the shattered holiday peace, and the very real threat to all we as Canadians hold dear. There’s no sugar coating these burnt cookies. What happened in Venezuela is all about oil. If it was democracy, the US would have instated the rightful winner of the most recent election, not Maduro’s VP. Mexico has already been mentioned by the Mango Mussolini as the next target, with a side of Cuba, Colombia, Iran, Greenland and Canada thrown in for fetid measure.

I turn my thoughts to the stoics and wonder what we can do to protect ourselves. Well, the first thing is not turning off the news. That is, as someone said, “privilege disguised as wisdom.” It’s the “oh, I don’t do politics” people that got #47 in for a second time (if indeed he won it legitimately). Re-electing Trump has been as if the Titanic hit the iceberg, then backed up and hit it again. (I didn’t come up with that, but it fits.) And we’re the folks in the lifeboats paddling madly to get out of the suck when the big ship of democracy goes down. People cheerily say, “Oh, wait ’til the midterms.” Friend, there was never going to be another election. That’s the plan. He and his evil cadre are in the midst of a true dictatorship fueled by awful polling numbers, a full-on pedophilia scandal at the highest ranks and the fifth anniversary of Jan 6^th.

So, how to cope? There’s the question. We’re all in this lifeboat together and you’ll need a brighter bulb than I to be the lighthouse. In this case, we turn to our elected leader, whose response on Saturday was cautious, measured and heavy on the importance of following the rules. I choose to believe in the man we elected for these extraordinary times; if not in his particular set of skills, then in his ability to be a diplomat, and to surround himself with the wisest of women and men, and to listen to them.

The voices we must NOT heed are those of the trolls, bots, and foreign-funded influencers showing up in every feed in increasing numbers. Do your due diligence: watch for AI messaging (especially fake videos). Do not forward anything you have not personally verified. Do not respond to single-digit-follower accounts with no picture, a fake name and a bunch of numbers, who are telling you what you know to be wrong. The enemy is here, breaking down our borders and building supporters for Trump within our country.

This is who you’re arguing with online, by the way.

You and I may not be military fighting age, but we can be vigilant and careful and call out FAKE! when we see it. If someone you know and love sends you something that is false, answer them. Tell them it’s wrong. Yes, it can feel awkward, but don’t let them spread it to others who are more gullible than you. WE have to stop it. You. Me. Lisa and I will have details on how to spot a fake in this Thursday’s Ep 159 of Gracefully and Frankly.

Canadians made “Elbows Up” a national call of unity in 2025. It proves we are capable of so much more, we grandmothers and ordinary citizens, than they are, with their walls of phones and computers sending out disinformation.

Be aware. Be loud. And be unafraid to call it out when you see it. Our Canada is worth fighting for, even if these are not traits for which we are usually known.

Look, I know this isn’t the type of journal you normally hear from me, but we need to be reminded that inspiration can come in heeding bad examples and doing the opposite. It won’t come by closing one’s eyes, unless it’s to meditate and ask for peace within and strength throughout. Stand up now, my friend. Be loud and be heard. Trolls and Trumpers be damned.

Just a thought… I don’t need a recipe for disaster. I usually just eyeball it. [Etsy poster, author unknown]

Well, for this final journal of 2025 I had a whole red-and-white-dyed post about what we learned this year about being Canadian. But you already know all of that. So I thought I’d tell you the tale of how Christmas dinner this year very nearly went sideways.

We have so many holidays we remember fondly from happier times: even just last year, a lively house party hosted by friends during our final Christmas (perhaps ever) in the US lifted our spirits and gave us a generous serving of joy. Here’s a shot from 2024, in the “before” times.

This year’s Christmas was memorable for the very real possibility that dinner was almost dead on arrival. It began on the 23^rd when I was shaking so hard with nerves at the grocery store that a little girl helped me to open those hellish produce bags! I’ll tell that story this Thursday on Ep 158 of Gracefully and Frankly, which begins a whole new year on January 1^st. Lisa Brandt and I can’t wait! Don’t miss out.

So, I got the groceries. I already had a smoked turkey from an earlier trip, from when Rob was here several weeks ago and we opted to try something new, and it was thawing in the fridge. I decided to surprise him with acorn squash as a side dish to accompany his mashed potatoes and canned corn. Stuffing is not a thing down here and this girl was not going to try it from scratch, at least not without a full spice rack; we have only salt and pepper.

On the 24^th, I thought it might be wise to make sure the oven worked. I turned the dial on the Whirlpool gas range, clicked the starter and heard the satisfying sparking, but it was on the front burner on top. I could see no spark down below, and felt no heat from the oven. But, oh, I did smell gas, so I decided to space out the attempts.

When I reached out to the owner of our house (a native Mexican who lives near LA), she told me she’d never tried the oven! I mean, I can relate, but it didn’t help me. Rob checked the internet and did all the research he could from afar, but alas, no answers to our particular problem.

The next day, Christmas, Rob and I texted back and forth. At one point he said, “Let’s just barbecue burgers and I’ll try to fix the oven.” (He’s like that.) And I said, “No, I’m going to heat this thing on the grill.”

At about 2 pm, figuring on his arrival at 5, I started up the ‘cue, thankful that Rob had bought charcoal on his November visit (gas barbecues are not a big thing here). I hadn’t used the grill since.

I covered the bird, added a large tetra of apple juice to the bottom of the pan for steaming, and let it more or less steam/bake.

An hour later, I added a pan with two halves of one of the squashes. Also covered and in a bit of water, they baked on the grill for the duration.

Rob finally got home just around 6 pm and by that time I was pretty confident I had dinner in hand. After a boisterous welcome from all three of his girls (Dottie, Livi and me) we sat down to a table decorated only with two tea lights I’d picked up while getting groceries, and here was our feast.

The only gifts were tiny treats I bought Rob, and one box of sugar-free chocolates for me. He also delighted me by opening, not a sack of presents, but a backpack with things I’d texted him to bring weeks ago, which ended up being surprises on their own: oil for a defuser, a new colour polish, a packet of turkey gravy mix – stuff like that.

The dinner and its leftovers (which we are still enjoying on this Monday night) were a success, despite the obstacles set in our way. I felt like I’d accomplished something pretty big by putting on my big girl apron and figuring out a charcoal barbecue for what I needed to do. Thank heavens the microwave didn’t die on me!

Instead of collapsing in a bundle of doubt and self-pity, I got dinner done. The turkey was admittedly a little dry, but the huge strawberry tres leches cake I picked out more than made up for it. For four nights.

If there’s a moral to all of this, it’s just to prepare what you can and then roll with whatever happens. 2025 has taught us that and while we can’t possibly know what the year ahead will bring, just believing “we’ve got this” is half the battle.

Let’s raise a toast to Canada on Wednesday night. May she (and we) remain strong and free. United, connected, dedicated and grateful. Always grateful.

I came up with this a few years ago as a Secret Santa type of game to play with friends and/or family around the dining table.

Just make sure there are more than two people and that everyone starts with a small present in hand, one that could go to anyone and still be appropriate. When you hear the word ‘right’ (whether it’s spelled R-I-G-H-T or sounds like it) you pass to the right, and same with the word ‘left.’ Only one spelling of that one. Here we go.

THE STORY OF THE WRIGHT BROTHERS’ CHRISTMAS

BY ERIN DAVIS

(and if you’re playing correctly, you just passed that gift to the person on your right, because I said the brothers’ name. Got it? Good. Let’s go.)

ONCE UPON A TIME, THERE WERE TWO BROTHERS. ORVILLE WRIGHT AND WILBUR WRIGHT. THEY LIVED IN KITTY HAWK, NORTH CAROLINA, RIGHT NEAR RALEIGH. ORVILLE AND WILBUR NEVER LEFT HOME – THEY STAYED IN KITTY HAWK AND WANTED TO FLY.

HOW COULD THAT BE RIGHT? PREVIOUS TRIES LEFT THOSE FLYING MACHINES IN PIECES ON THE GROUND.

BUT THE BOYS HAD THE RIGHT STUFF. SO, PEOPLE LEFT IT TO THEM. AFTER ALL, WHAT RIGHT DID ANYONE HAVE TO SAY THAT THEY COULDN’T FLY – RIGHT?

THE WRIGHT BROTHERS BUILT AN AIRPLANE WITH PARTS LEFT OVER FROM THEIR TRACTOR – AND EVEN USED A SURF BOARD FOR THE RIGHT WING. WHAT?

ON A CHILLY DECEMBER 24TH, RIGHT BEFORE CHRISTMAS, ORVILLE AND WILBUR GOT INTO THEIR PLANE. A PRIEST, WHO WAS WORRIED, CAME AND GAVE THEM LAST RITES. BUT THEY SAID, “OH GOODNESS, FATHER, WE’LL BE ALL RIGHT! BESIDES, WE HAVEN’T EVEN LEFT YET!”

THEY STARTED THEIR PLANE AND DESPITE THE COLD, IT BEGAN RIGHT AWAY. THEY FLEW A LITTLE TO THE LEFT, AND THEN A LITTLE TO THE LEFT AGAIN…AND THEN UP AND DOWN AND THEN…TO THE LEFT. “UH-OH,” SAID WILBUR, “THIS AIN’T RIGHT.” SO THEN THEY TRIED TO STRAIGHTEN UP AND FLY RIGHT, BUT INSTEAD, THE PLANE JUST KEPT GOING UP – UP – UP!

AS THE WRIGHT BROTHERS STARTED TO PANIC, THEIR PLANE CONTINUED ITS ASCENT. UP OVER ROOFTOPS, UP THROUGH THE CLOUDS.

‘TIL ALL OF A SUDDEN, OVER THE WHIRRRR OF THE LITTLE PLANE’S STRUGGLING PROPELLERS, THE WRIGHT BROTHERS COULD HEAR A SOUND. WAIT, THOUGHT WILBUR, THAT CAN’T BE RIGHT!

“DO YOU HEAR BELLS?” ASKED ORVILLE.

THEY DID! THEY LOOKED ABOVE THEM, THEY LOOKED TO THE RIGHT…THEY LOOKED BELOW AND THEN THEY LOOKED TO THE LEFT…AND WHAT SHOULD THEY SEE, RIGHT THERE BESIDE THEM?

NONE OTHER THAN THE BIG MAN HIMSELF: SANTA CLAUS, AND A MAGICAL SLEIGH BEING PULLED BY EIGHT REINDEER!

“HEY!” SHOUTED SANTA, “WHAT ARE YOU DOING HERE?

IT’S MY TURN TO FLY – YOU HAVEN’T THE GEAR!

YOU LAND THAT PLANE RIGHT NOW, BEFORE YOU CRASH BADLY….”

“OKAY,” SAID THE WRIGHT BROTHERS, NODDING QUITE SADLY.

“WE DON’T KNOW THE WAY – I GUESS WE DID GOOF….”

AND SANTA SAID, “FOLLOW! I’LL LAND ON YOUR ROOF!”

SO THAT’S WHAT THEY DID, AND THEY PURSUED THE SLEIGH, LED BY RUDOLPH’S GLOWING RED NOSE. DOWN, DOWN, THEY WENT. TURNING LEFT AND LEFT AGAIN…UNTIL RIGHT BELOW THEM WAS THEIR HOUSE.

SANTA AND HIS REINDEER LANDED AND QUICKLY LEFT THEIR PRESENTS, THEN FLEW OFF INTO THE NIGHT SKY. ORVILLE AND WILBUR WRIGHT PUT THAT LITTLE PLANE DOWN GENTLY ON A SNOW-COVERED FARM FIELD RIGHT NEXT TO THEIR HOUSE.

“ALL RIGHT!” THEY EXCLAIMED AS THEY CLIMBED FROM THE PLANE AND LEFT IT BEHIND TO RUN INSIDE AND SEE WHAT SANTA HAD LEFT.

FOR ORVILLE, A PAIR OF FLYING GOGGLES AND A STICK OF RIGHT GUARD DEODORANT…FOR WILBUR A BASEBALL GLOVE SO HE COULD PLAY LEFT FIELD COME SPRING.

AND RIGHT UNDER THE TREE, THE BEST GIFT OF ALL?

SANTA LEFT THEM A MAP AND A NOTE: “PLEASE DON’T FALL!”

AND AS THE BOYS HUGGED, FOR THEY REALLY WERE TIGHT, THEY CRIED, “MERRY CHRISTMAS TO ALL, AND TO ALL A GOOD RIGHT!“

A LOVELY HOLIDAY SEASON TO YOU AND YOURS FROM ROB AND ME, AND FROM OUR WHOLE FAMILY.

THE STORY IS OVER – SO HOLD ON TO YOUR LOT,

NO PASSING, NO SASSING…. OPEN UP WHAT YOU GOT!

Just a thought… You can rise up from anything. You can completely recreate yourself. Nothing is permanent. You’re not stuck. You have choices. You can think new thoughts. You can learn something new. You can create new habits. All that matters is that you decide today and never look back. [@BuddhismPageFB]

Home alone this Christmas Eve? I’ll be on Facebook this Wednesday night if you want to join me. I wish I could do a Facebook Live event, but my tech knowledge is limited and more importantly, I’m afraid it would be dreadfully dull for you. So it’s best we just share some comments and thoughts and even pictures, if that’s what you want. And, yes, baseball memories are welcome! Shall we say 8 pm ET?

This is the season for gratitude and you are at the top of my list. For coming along for the ride every week, for joining me on Threads @erindawndavis (where the community continues to grow – take THAT, Twitter/X) and, of course, for listening.

Drift with Erin Davis sleep stories have blossomed to 400,000 downloads and Gracefully and Frankly, the labour of love that fellow Queenager Lisa Brandt and I do together, continues to grow with over 210,000 downloads. You’ve given me purpose in this reWirement, and most importantly, we’ve maintained connection, you and I. And really, isn’t that the most important thing?

I posted this picture on Facebook last week.

I captioned it saying that, for many of us, this was the feeling. But then I asked visitors to share any good things that happened to them in the past 12 months. What a joyful collection of answers came in! From new grandbabies to negative cancer results, the responses just warmed and filled my heart.

Most importantly, they were a reminder to find the positive. Now, you know me. Gratitude (along with a fairly extensive streak of rage at injustice and stupidity) has fuelled me for the past several years. Sometimes it’s hard to find the light, but on this first full day of winter, as the daylight begins to win over the darkness, the metaphor seems apt: so goes our lives.

Even on the most depressing days – and, yes, this time of year is filled with them for many of us – there are glimmers of light. We need only look outside our homes, outside ourselves, to find them. I know, I know…easier said than done.

But it’s the quick fixes. A comforting tea or a special coffee. A meditation on YouTube (it’s not hard to do; just close your eyes and listen). A TV show that’s familiar and makes you laugh. Okay, that last one I am definitely not doing: been bingeing the dark and dirty eight seasons of Peaky Blinders on Netflix. Cillian Murphy is easy on the eyes, but the rest, while compelling, is challenging, to say the least. But to balance it out, I did discover Jane Austen movies!

Well, I’m wandering now, so I’ll bring us all back to the light.

Let me wish you a gentle week, whatever it may bring. Some of us have to take comfort in the memories that will take us through until it’s time to make new ones. Others will be surrounded by joy – quiet or boisterous – and hopefully laughter. That is what I wish for you.

Most of all, I thank you. For helping me to remember to find the gratitude. Because even though for many of us, life didn’t turn out the way we thought it would or it should, it’s up to us to make the best of what we have in this one life we get. And really, when it comes down to it, we have a lot.

With love,

Erin

Just a thought… What is Christmas? It is the tenderness of the past, courage for the present and hope for the future. [Agnes Pahro]

Hang in until Sunday, my friend. That’s when we start to turn the corner into more daylight with the arrival of the Winter Solstice, which is worth celebrating no matter what your faith!

Our traditions have been changing every year since Lauren died ten years ago and this Christmas Eve, for the second time in my life (the first was when I moved to Windsor, far from home), I’ll be alone. No tears – just memories – and Rob flies in on Christmas Day. What can I say? It was a much cheaper flight. And as we remind each other, “It’s only a day.”

I’ll probably hang out on my Facebook page and share thoughts and company with anyone else who’s alone on the 24^th. It’s a night that used to be so packed with meaning and love thanks to an annual radio show that was a highlight of my career for some 20 years. Leave me a note in the FB comments if you plan to join.

This year, more than ever, we’ve leaned away from trees and decorating, as it would be just for us; also being in a rental home it makes zero sense. I still enjoy lights that others have hung on their balconies and the displays on tiny lawns. But not for us.

Because Rob’s also flying in with just a backpack (again, cheaper) there will be no gifts this year – not a one. Of course, there’s his hard work getting the condo into shape after bringing in the rest of our house contents, and making plans and purchases for Wedgie (see journal here for details on our tiny new cottage on a smaller island which becomes ours next month). Those definitely count as the acts of love that are year-long gifts in the spirit of the holidays: showing kindness and care, and letting someone know – not with material things (although, yes, a heated toilet seat/bidet is material and I can’t wait to try it in our new place) – but with thoughts and actions.

I won’t lie. It feels strange and almost neglectful not to be getting Rob anything. I feel as if I should at least order lingerie as he says he just looks forward to cuddling (and we all know where that leads), but since it’s his Prime account and I don’t go out to shop here without a car, nothing will be a surprise. Like the old joke goes, I could drape myself in Saran Wrap and so he can enjoy “leftovers again.” God bless him, he’s just grateful by nature!

Goodness, am I actually alluding to sexy 60s (and in Rob’s case 70s)? I guess I am. While my antidepressants don’t do a thing for the libido, I’m more than willing to go along for the ride, so to speak, as Rob makes up for both of us. If this is TMI, well, this place is where I tell my stories.

Remember in our 20s, we much preferred to think of our parents as staying in their Rob and Laura Petrie twin beds, all night, every night. Of course, that wasn’t the case, but it’s almost startling to realize we are that age – and beyond – and we’re still…cuddling, so many of us.

It reminds me of a movie I watched alone the other night that starred Robert Redford and Jane Fonda (Our Souls at Night from 2017). She’s a lonely widow who invites her widower neighbour over just for the nights, since she can’t get to sleep without her late husband. It’s a lovely thought and a story that certainly has its bumps, but it got me to thinking if I would do the same. Can’t think of anyone I’d choose, and of course they’d have to go along with two little dogs that have pretty much staked out the bed. And does he fart? (I’m sure Redford didn’t, of course, LOL!) Do I snore? (Rob calls it purring…because of course he does).

So this year, Christmas will be different: he arrives around 3 pm and we’ll have a smoked turkey instead of a roasted one, then watch Sense and Sensibility on Netflix instead of laughing with family or friends. Maybe one day we’ll be invited to do that again (as we were last year in Palm Springs) but for now, it’s just the two of us. Instead of presents, it’ll be presence, and the warmth of the holidays will be condensed to one spot, two people, a pair of dogs and a lot of warm memories.

Oh, and cuddling. Lots of cuddling.