Erin's Journals

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?

Just a thought… Happiness, not in another place but this place…not for another hour, but this hour. [Walt Whitman]

Typing this as I sit at the side of a neighbourhood diamond in Nepean near Ottawa…the music’s playing, the coffee in my traveller mug is cooling in the gentle noonday air, and kids are out having fun, running, catching, playing. A perfect spring day.

In the distance, a cardinal chee-chee-chees, perched high enough in a tree not to be seen, but definitely to be heard and appreciated by someone who doesn’t experience them in BC. That’s okay, though; since we’ve been here my phone has been pinging with sightings back home of orcas, gray and humpback whales near our cabin.

The job is to be here now, in the arms of family and taking in the moments that can only happen once. Playing on the swings with my granddaughter. Cheering both Colin and Jane at their respective baseball games. Spending time watching the Jays, while wishing we had a team worth watching together in the Stanley Cup.

So on we go. We play ourselves out with our beloved not-so-little ones – 11 and 6 – here in Ottawa, take in all the games we can, put together Jane’s new bicycle and hope to have ALL the fun.

Rob and I have both pledged to let the happiness of seeing the kids and their folks outshine the sadness that this part of the country and the inevitable memories also bring. As always, we make the most of what we’ve got, while we’ve got it. I know Lauren would want it this way, and she’d be so proud of Colin, his sister Jane, and their folks. ‘Cause that is what this is all about. 

We took advantage of a short drive with Colin yesterday to cram in some “grandparent-flavoured” wisdom. (And contrary to what that might imply, no it is not Werthers and Nicorette!) 

Lately, Colin’s been experiencing what I went through at his age, and that is some bullying. While it’s not my story to tell, 63-year-old me has learned some life lessons that I truly wish I had known at his age. More importantly, I would hope I’d have been smart enough to take them in and hold on.

During our brief commute to pick up dinner, I said to Colin that I missed telling him things, but that I had something I really needed him to hear. I said, “Do you want to know the secret of life?” and of course he repeated the question, and then said yes. I told him, “Man cannot control what happens to him. The only freedom we have is to choose how we respond.” Then I repeated my paraphrased words of Viktor Frankl again, and Rob gave him some examples of what we meant.

By the time we arrived at our destination, and then again on the drive back home, we had him reciting it to us. I told him that we could have died when the worst thing that could happen to a person befell us. But instead we chose to be grateful: that our daughter left us him, a beautiful son, and that he would get a wonderful sister whom we would love just as much. We choose to say, “Wow, aren’t we lucky we have Colin and Jane! ” instead of simply giving up and not wanting to live anymore. 

We can hope that the lanky boy with long hair and big, baseball-filled dreams took in those words. We’ll make sure we say them together again a few times this week. After all, I have never forgotten my grandmother’s words: “Love Many, Trust Few, and Always Paddle Your Own Canoe.” That, and “Don’t marry a man with a cleft in his chin.” I didn’t, but the one guy I did date with one turned out to be a total scoundrel. Well played, Grama!

Full moons, glorious sunsets and worn-out kids (and their parents and grandparents) are what have filled our visit thus far. As Rob’s shirt says in the picture, Life IS Good. Talk to you Thursday on Gracefully and Frankly and I’m not kidding when I tell you that you have to listen.

There was drama at home before we left that I’ll be telling you about on the podcast, and it has to do with our sweet Livi. I will just let you know that our flabbers were ALL ghasted, and our both our gobs were smacked, Rob’s and mine. DO NOT miss Episode 179. It’s a half-hour long, it’s free and it’s worth every penny LOL.

Just a thought… Be patient and tough; someday this pain will be useful to you. [Ovid]

Well, that was quite a weekend. Apart watching the Jays and Habs, deer and fawns, Rob and I did one of those things that can really test a relationship.

We’ve had them before: the earliest I can recall was wallpapering together. Boy, if that isn’t a recipe for disaster, I don’t know what is. But we got through it way back in the day, and lived to face other way bigger couples’ challenges. How lucky we are that we’ve gotten through them all intact.

We’ve assembled a big gazebo, with me standing near the top of a ladder, resting the roof on my head while while Rob secured it. We’ve managed to put up a massively heavy nickel-and-glass hotel pendant light, me holding the globe aloft like Atlas with a colourful vocabulary, while Rob screwed a plate into the ceiling. And we moved that gorgeous behemoth to at least two homes.

All that said, we’re lucky to have survived this job on Friday night. It was about 10 pm when I said, “C’mon, let’s do this now.” Oh sure, we were smiling when we decided to tackle it, and no, there was no alcohol involved!

We had lucked into an apartment-sized washer/dryer pair from our condo neighbours. Rob managed (solo) to get them into the back of our smallish SUV and brought them over to our Pender Island cabin, and together we got them, via hand truck, bumping and rolling into the house.

A kind neighbour had “voluntold” her husband to help us to get them up these stairs and I gratefully accepted. But…

In truth, I don’t think they knew what Dan would’ve been in for. We sure didn’t! And in retrospect, asking anyone to help us move these would have been too big a request. When he came over on Saturday to see what we’d accomplished, he agreed it would have been awfully tough. And yes, my friend, it was.

As you can see from the first picture, there’s a tight turn at the bottom of the stairs, and another squeaker at the top. Obstacles included wooden uprights, a natural wood pole upstairs (too splintery for my exotic dances, I’m afraid, lol) and glass panels lining the stairs all the way up.

As I tugged up on the hand cart, Rob was crouched, a pillow on his back, under each appliance. Using his quads and his back, after every “one-two-THREE!” from me, he pushed it up the stairs. Aside from having to unscrew the handrail, our biggest hiccup was when the heavy washer bumped up to the tight top landing and I was pitched backward on my butt. I was extremely mindful of the glass panel that could potentially break my fall, and fortunately, everything – including all of me – ended up intact.

The pair fit into our walk-in closet, which is now, in addition to being a powder room (we had a small toilet/vanity combo plumbed in and installed) a place for tightly fitting laundry facilities.

We won’t be using them this week, as on Friday we start a 10-day visit to Ottawa. In that case, we’ll be able to take our stuff over to the kids’ place to wash, though, thank goodness.

Oh, and of course I will not miss any episodes with my Gracefully & Frankly partner Lisa Brandt. Talk to you Thursday.