Erin's Journals

Just a thought… The great thing about getting older is that you don’t lose all the other ages you’ve been. [Madeleine L’Engle]

A few things this week about Queenagers and one in particular I have come to know in the past few months, along with her much younger male companion. Tea? Oh, we not only have the tea, Honey, we are the tea.

What’s a Queenager? Hmmmm…let’s see. It’s a term I read years ago and it just stuck to me like a tattoo; in fact, I might well get it on my right forearm to balance out the feather with Lauren’s name on it that graces my left.

If you’re reading this, you may be a Queenager, too. See if this resonates: we’re old enough to know better, but young enough to still give something new a try. Wise enough to know the answers, but smart enough to only share them with people who’ll listen. We’re more patient than we used to be, but we get fed up faster with small minds that are accompanied by big mouths. We have more smile lines, and fewer filters.

But most of all, we have a lot of life still in us – whether others see it or not.

We know who we are. And if we’re not someone’s cup of tea, they can damned well pick out a different blend somewhere else. ‘Cause these leaves have grown through the cruelest and harshest of conditions, and yet they still found their way to the sunlight. They do best in hot water. And while they can’t tell the future, they know an awful lot from the past. And while they go well with lemon, they – we – have come to deserve honey.

There’s a woman named Ellen on our cottage road. Ellen is 84 and wears each year as gracefully as the makeup she puts on every single day, whether it’s to drive her car into our little Pender Island shopping centre, or to walk to the mail box. Lipstick, eyeshadow (a sparkly shade of light green), and hair permed and just so.

Without fail, Ellen refers to her first spouse as her “starter husband.” She fiercely misses her second husband, gone over a decade now: the one who built the house in which she now lives. We can talk about grief knowing it has no time limit. Why do we still miss them? Because we still love them, and they are still gone. That’s why.

Ellen, however, does have a special fella in her life – a much younger one who’s actually in his mid-forties. He’s colourful and mouthy, laughs often and is tremendous company for Ellen, even on the rainiest, windiest days as she looks out at the unsettled ocean. Like me, Ellen’s a late riser, but insists she and Sonny sleep separately, as he prefers the dark and quiet.

They have a comfortable arrangement. I don’t know that I could live with him, but they make it work: he gratefully eats what she prepares, sings to Ellen, chimes in when she’s on the phone, and tells just the dirtiest jokes. He’s completely devoted to her, as she is to him, and he even loves when Dottie and Livi come to visit, almost as much as his girl does.

Ellen is the queeniest of Queenagers. Spunky, funny and full of life and great stories. To say that Rob and I love having her and Sonny in our lives is an understatement. They’re just another in the long list of gifts that this island has brought to our healing hearts this year.

Now, I’d be remiss if I didn’t include a picture of this gorgeous couple, and I will, right after I share this exciting news.

My Gracefully and Frankly podcast partner Lisa Brandt and I are hosting a Queenagers’ cruise in November 0f 2027. If you’ve ever wanted to do a river cruise with a group of like-minded, fun-seeking, PJ-loving women – this one along the Danube for the Christmas markets of Germany, Austria and Hungary – click on this link and get more info.

We’re planning all kinds of “just us” things to do, so please don’t put off signing up – there are special discounts that only hold until the end of this month. All it takes is a deposit for now, and we’d love to have you along. You deserve this, and having something to look forward to helps bring our lives joy. And that’s what it’s all about.

And now, as promised, Ellen and her precious Sonny. Gosh, I do hope I didn’t ruffle any feathers with that description of their May/December relationship! I wish you a great week, with a reminder Lisa and I will have Episode 197 of Gracefully and Frankly ready for you on Thursday, which will include Lisa opening my presents to her on her actual birthday!

Just a thought… None are so old as those who have outlived enthusiasm. [Henry David Thoreau]

Lisa and I have a huge announcement about an upcoming opportunity to travel with us, coming this Thursday on our Gracefully and Frankly podcast Episode 196. Don’t miss it!

I’m weird, right? I count down to my birthday by months every year like a 10-year-old, and poor Rob is always trying to come up with ways to make the day special for me. This year, it was a totally DIY operation, and we both participated with terrific – and surprising – results. Even our late daughter “popped” in.

Saturday morning came gently and with a beautiful flat white almond milk concoction. As he said, “How do I make you a special coffee, when you get these (nearly) every day?” Good point.

The day was peppered with texts, messages here and there (thank you!) and a FaceTime with Colin and Jane in Ottawa, who helped me blow out candles from afar.

Because we spend most of our time on a small Gulf island with no finer dining options (which to me includes a place to eat without TVs or ball caps on; my bar is low), we decided to made our own little feast.

I bought frozen seafood and made a cream and white cheese sauce to have with lobster, scallops and shrimp, poured over pasta for Rob and riced konjac (a carb-free plant) for me. With the great assistance of my sous chef, we had a delicious meal. I could barely concentrate on eating it while waiting for dessert, though…my favourite rainbow cake from a grocery store in Sidney. Originally a Pride Month offering, it’s available now year-round and thank goodness. I mean, look at this!

There were two noteworthy moments. 

The funny one of the day was when it came to opening my presents. There was an incredible bath robe which I not only wear but sleep under; it’s cushy and plush and gorgeous. And a candle warmer to fill the cabin with my favourite smells. Although I have plenty on hand, my go-to is the rather redundant scent of fir trees. I can’t help it if I love forest living! Rob bought me a second set of AirPods so I never leave a pair at the condo and always have something to listen with on my long walks. But early last week I’d gotten a box of items I’d ordered online and suggested he wrap them. One of them – a set of artificial nails to help me when my bruised index nail falls off and we don’t cover it with polish – I opened and exclaimed how thoughtful he was to go into our shopping cart and see what I’d left there. But then he informed me that, no, I had indeed ordered them. “Take the damned WIN, Rob!” I laughed. Is this what my future looks like? Buying my own presents and forgetting them? Probably. It could be worse!

Then a moment that stopped us in our tracks.

We had the Beatles channel playing on Sirius XM in the cabin and were about to sit down to dinner. I reminded Rob of the sparkling de-alcoholized wine and he opened the cabin door to shoot off the cork. The moment it popped, the familiar clarinet notes began to play: “When I’m 64.” My age. My day. Our daughter. Thanks, Loo.

So as I’m settling into saying 64, I am grateful. Glad that Rob has promised he’ll still need me and still feed me (or help me prepare meals) and that is more than enough. Now just one more year ’til I ride the ferry to get to Pender for free, four days a week. ‘Cause freedom is what this part of our lives should be all about, right?

And thanks to Mali B. who made this in honour of my big day. Thank you, sweet Mali. I wish!

Just a thought… Here is the ghost of a summer that lived for us. Here is a promise of summer to be. [William E. Henley]

Hello! As we get set to welcome a brand new season tomorrow evening, my thoughts are with the final days of summer and how we spent them returning my dad to his roots, and getting back in touch with mine.

Last week I told you about the latter half of the trip from Sidney, BC across the water and the mountains to the Calgary area; this week, as promised, I’ll go back to the beginning.

We dropped Dottie and Livi off at our friends Susan and Steve’s house. Their cat had a week to warm to the pups, but she never managed to. Maybe them taking over Charlie’s bed (when we even sent their own) didn’t win them any brownie points!

Once we got to Kelowna the next day, I ruffled a few feathers, but for a change, it wasn’t my sister’s! I think it may have been the first time I ever held one of these:

Little sis Les has two chickens and they have just begun laying eggs. (She had a chick who grew into a rooster, but he was adopted by a man who needed one for his hens, so little Gladys/Gladiator is living out their best life now.)

We met Les’s feathered family while stopping on our way east. Thankfully our entire trip was smoke and worry-free; this year we timed it just right. Of course, our convenience is at the very bottom of the list when it comes to the concerns of those affected by and those fighting fires in the heat of the BC summer, and we are grateful.

Here are Leslie and I, both dressed by my Gracefully and Frankly partner Lisa Brandt: she gave me this Namaste In Bed t-shirt as an early birthday present, while she made the Queenagers t-shirt for our podcast listeners to purchase (at GracefullyandFrankly.com). Les loves hers.

As usual, our visit at Leslie’s wasn’t long enough, but we had places to go and things to do. We spent the night at Boulder Mountain Resort, where we’d rented a cabin last year. But this time, it was a geodesic yurt and it was terrific! I have a video I’ll link to, giving you a tour, at the end of today’s journal.

As always, the scenery tugged at my heart – feeling that deep sense of connection to the Rockies that had served as the backdrop for my fondest childhood memories when, no matter where my dad was posted in the military, I was allowed to stay with my grandparents in Turner/Diamond Valley. On our way home, we were greeted by this breathtaking sight. No AI, just AWE.

And now we settle in at our still-new-to-us cabin on Pender Island, making two- or three-day trips by the 45 minute ferry ride to our home in Sidney. Rob’s hockey season is in full swing, while this week we have an appointment for Miss Livi to be spayed. She’s not at all uncomfortable in her sleeper, which we tried on her the other night.

I’ve often said to Rob that Dottie embodies my inner exuberance, but Livi’s more like my reality, minus the coffee!

May your autumn be one of peaceful reflection and the soul preparation that comes with the shift into whatever lies ahead towards the end of the season. As always, we’re grateful.

Click here for our little tent adventure. It was Rob’s first yurt stay and if we can find more like this one, it sure won’t be his last!

Just a thought… Ashes to ashes, dust to dust; Our lives are a mirror, reflection a must. [Linda Meyers]

There’s nothing quite like two separate cemetery visits followed by a trip to a dinosaur museum to make you refocus on living each day to its fullest.

That’s what most of my last week was about, and I’ve so much to tell you I almost didn’t know where to start. So rather than go chronologically, I’m going to take this in two parts, beginning today and moving backwards. Next week: the last leg of the trip home – Canmore AB to Kamloops BC to our condo on Vancouver Island – will be fresh enough to share. So here we go…backwards.

Today we awaken in Canmore, Alberta as we head back over the Rocky Mountains and to the BC ferry home tomorrow.

Just outside the more famous Banff, Canmore captured our hearts nearly 40 years ago when Rob and I first rented a convertible to visit the province of my birth. He immediately felt at home, as though he was somehow Alberta born as well. And I was proud to share the sights and experiences of Wild Rose Country with him.

This trip was less about sightseeing and more about family. We spent three wonderful nights in Okotoks, outside Calgary, with my aunt and uncle, visiting also with two of my three cousins and two of their children, eating (far too well and too much), yelling for and at the Jays, and sharing plenty of family history.

As we said good-byes yesterday with hugs and laughter, loaded up with snacks and meals for our journey, rather than point our car towards the mountains, we drove the two hours northeast to Alberta’s famous badlands and Drumheller. Since the time I was a kid spending countless summers with my grandparents in Turner Valley (near Okotoks), a visit to the world-renowned Royal Tyrrell Museum has been on my to-do list.

It most definitely did not disappoint. Of course, pictures can’t do it justice, but with the extensive collection of fossils, huge displays of actual bones and casts, interactive activities, a lab to watch workers, and other multi-media options, we spent two hours but could easily have stayed a few more.

Delightfully enough, a listener from my CHFI days asked if I was who she thought, and then introduced herself! We caught up for a few minutes, then I gave Bernice from Etobicoke a big hug, and we were on our way. Of all places! Hope she doesn’t include me in the list of fossils she encountered at the museum. Gotta say though, their ball cap is awfully reminiscent of the name of the Mango Mussolini with the poisonous tongue and out-of-control Sharpie. Um…maybe rethink that one, folks?

So that was Sunday. The day before, we had driven part of the way to Drumheller to make some different connections.

Located in Three Hills, AB, it’s an honest-to-goodness Davis family burial site and I was able to trace my way back to the great-great-grandfather who came here via covered wagon from Kansas (even wintering in Nebraska, in true Little House style).

Saturday, accompanied by Rob, and my dad’s kid brother Vern, I sprinkled the last remaining ashes of my father around the headstone of his parents and two brothers who predeceased him.

And with that, what I jokingly called the Grateful Dead tour was almost over (finishing with the dinosaur museum, naturally – pardon the pun).

Friday was a bit more ceremonial: along with my aunt and uncle and a cousin and her husband, we gathered in Diamond Valley. (They combined Turner Valley, where Dad and Mom were raised, with Black Diamond – thus the shiny new moniker.) There, under cloudy skies, stiff breezes and with a brilliant view of the land he loved so well, we shared a few words, sang a little of John Denver’s “Back Home Again” and said our penultimate farewells. Dad’s urn, topped up with small amounts of ashes from our mom, his dear Maureen, and grandchildren Lauren and Michael, was laid to rest near a headstone he’d designed and had been carting around from one residence to another after Mom’s passing.

A family lunch followed and, although it was one of those moments that marks a closure, I was honoured to have helped my three sisters in our individual and shared responsibilities in getting him where he wanted to be. We hope we were as good to him as daughters as he was to us as a father.

Next week here, I’ll share with you some much lighter moments and a few more highlights from what I hope will be an annual trip across the Rockies. On Thursday as we approached Banff I asked Rob to promise he’d remind me that I want to spend more time in my beloved Alberta every year.

Meantime, for every sign attached to farmland fences or poked into people’s yards that called for Albertans to “send Ottawa a message” there was an equal number that urged people who share my love of the province and her place in Canada to remember to vote next month.

May only good come of the referendum on a referendum that lies ahead, and may whatever does happen strengthen the ties among all who love this country, united against what’s coming at us from south of the border.

Okay – here we go. Cup’s full, car’s charged and it’s time to hit the road again, this time for Kamloops. That’s where I’ll be recording this Thursday’s Episode 194 of Gracefully and Frankly with Lisa Brandt. And don’t forget you have just today to leave us a voicemail at that site. We love when you do!

Just a thought… It doesn’t matter how slowly you go, as long as you do not stop. [Confucius]

On this Labour Day, in addition to saluting all of the workers who keep our world going and, of course, the unions that brought us a five-day work week, among many other benefits that Canadians enjoy, I’d also like to tip my cap to my husband, whose own countless hours of labour have made all the difference to our little slice of perfection here on Pender Island.

Here’s how Wedgie looked when we bought her in January.

The place was pretty much turnkey. No real improvements were needed – a good thing since Rob was so exhausted from moving our stuff out of our big house into either our new condo or U-haul containers, and then (after they sat in storage for months) hauling those items to the cabin via rental truck and ferry, with the help of our old CHFI friend Chris Shapcotte.

But a few things fell into our laps that made one big change not only possible but amazingly cheap.

“Would we really use a deck?” Rob asked when I suggested we might want one. Up until then, our outdoor furniture sat on large flat rocks and seemed just fine. No plans to build a deck this year at least.

Then came a series of remarkable opportunities to upcycle used or pre-owned materials.

One day on a dog walk, we spotted a pickup truck down our road, loaded with used pressure treated lumber. We left a note on the windshield asking if it had been spoken for, and learned it was on its way to the dump. Not just any dump either; our neighbour would’ve had to take the ferry from Pender to Vancouver Island to the landfill there. So it was brought to our place instead and unloaded. Win-win. Step one complete.

The next incredible phase came when the same neighbour realized he had bought too much composite decking, and offered the surplus to us at about 30% off what he had paid. We said yes and hauled it up the hill to our place, at times carrying it on foot, and finally, threading it through open windows in our car. Yes, there will be paint touch-ups!

The physical labour was almost as much for my one-man construction crew as the mental gymnastics he then had to perform. How big could the deck be, using only the materials on hand? What would the configuration be, given some very odd angles to the house, and could a walkway be built? Rob had spreadsheets and calculations going literally for weeks before he began cutting and assembling. First he framed, and it passed inspection!

I won’t bore you with more details but I can tell you that it took about six weeks from nothing, to this. Oh, and see that lighter coloured trim along the front? I found a guy on FB Marketplace up Vancouver Island who was giving it away! Rob picked it up, cut it up, and put it up. He’s a magician.

The walkway’s angles and the slope of the land posed more problems than expected – to get it to a degree that would be not just passable but safe was a challenge given the limited materials. He built and rebuilt it three times, but in the end, perfection!

So there you have it. We even ended up with an extra step up to the deck and one for the hot tub and it all just looks like it’s always been here. Even though building a deck was not in the cards this year, here we are – all because we said yes. And Rob worked his tail off. My job was to supply muffins, coffee and constructive (pardon the pun) observations.

So on this Labour Day, my special thanks go to Rob, who always strives to make me happy wherever we are. Sometimes it’s an uphill battle, but he never stops trying and giving it his all, which is a lot. And to all of the labourers: thank you.