Erin's Journals

*** It’s taken me a while to put into words how Olivia Newton-John, who passed away today at age 73, made a difference in the lives of so many, including of course, Rob’s and mine. I’ve recorded a short tribute to her, remembering why she is so loved and will be missed so terribly. May she ever rest in the peace she so deserves. Here’s a link if you’re interested. 

Just a thought… Keep your feet on the ground and keep reaching for the stars. [America’s Top 40 host Casey Kasem]

You can watch a video version of this journal on my Facebook page, or here on YouTube.

I want to begin with a thank you. I’m so glad you enjoyed last week’s surprise treat in my vlog from Langley Ukes almost as much as we did in stumbling upon them at the BC Museum.

But isn’t that just like life? Rarely does adventure come to your door if you just stay home. But this week is an exception where something spectacular is quite literally at your doorstep. Only higher.

In these early days of the sultry month of August, we’re being treated to an annual celestial event: the Perseid meteor showers. It won’t be the best viewing this week, as the peak of the showers coincides with the brightest moon, between Thursday and Friday. So those in the know say watch for them now and all week, and you’ll see them best just before dawn.

For Rob and for me, the Perseid meteor showers have a much deeper and higher meaning, and they have to do with connecting with the heavens.

It was August of 2015. We were in Sedona, Arizona, doing some spiritual work in the early months after our daughter’s death. Sedona is known for its amazing energies coming from the earth called vortexes which are said to make trees grow like this, in spirals.

I happen to feel different to my core when I’m there, and so it’s been my place of solace, “soul-ace” you could say, on more than one occasion in this complicated life. And so, when we were broken, this is the place we returned to, to find wholeness within its holiness.

We stayed in a space that allowed us to take in the vast beauty of our surroundings as guests at a house that had a pool deck .

Just watching the storms in the distance at sunset was breathtaking enough.

The play of colours and clouds could bring peace to even the most broken of hearts, even for the shortest time.

But lucky for us, the Perseid showers were happening at that time, too. I wish I had pictures of what we saw, but I’ll use my words instead. (You can easily Google images of Perseid showers; they’re worth the search.)

After a day of gentle hiking, guided meditation and even making a tiny rock memorial…

…we came home to dinner and a quiet evening. Then, as the sun set, we watched the skies, hoping they’d clear enough for that night’s “show.”

We weren’t disappointed. Reclined in loungers and covered in blankets, Rob and I promised we’d stay out until we’d counted 24 of the white streaks across the desert sky – one for every year of her life with us. Gradually we made our way into the teens and finally called it a night at 32. So mesmerizing was the sight, the feeling of connection with the heavens and our girl up there with them, that we didn’t want it to end.

Eventually we called it a night and we both had sore necks the next day to show for it, but the memories of that closeness to the stars long outlasted the far worse pain of those early days of mourning. And those meteors? They come back year after year. Lovely.

Maybe tonight, or tomorrow, or when skies are clear and you’re still up, you’ll look up. You may make a wish when you see that meteor go by; perhaps you’ll just wonder if something was a reflection in the lenses of your glasses.

Whatever is in your heart, I hope you’re able not only to soak in the closeness of these summer days, but, oh, those summer nights (don’t worry, I won’t sing anything from Grease). There are so very few in the calendar, not just of the year, but our lives.

Have a gentle, starry week and I’ll talk to you here next Monday. Please join me at Drift with Erin Davis any night wherever you download podcasts for a sleep story to guide you into gentle dreams. And again, thank you.

Just a thought… I would say that music is the easiest means in which to express, but since words are my talent, I must try to express clumsily in words what the pure music would have done better. [William Faulkner]I

As Victoria is in the embrace of many live musical performances in honour of the long weekend, I wanted to share with you an experience we had a few weeks ago, my sister, her friend and I. We had the pleasure of a visit to the Royal BC Museum in downtown Victoria where admission was just five dollars, as some of the displays, particularly the Indigenous ones, had been packed up in anticipation of the closure of the museum for earthquake proofing. That plan fell by the wayside when departing premier John Horgan took a lot of heat for allocating so much provincial money that many thought should be better spent during hard times.

I’d have paid far, far more than five bucks to experience what was the highlight of our visit. For, upon entry, we heard music – live music – and followed the sounds to an auditorium just off the main vestibule. And there sat a dozen-and-a-half young people, ukuleles in hand, making the most wonderful music this side of the Hawaiian Islands.

Turns out they are the “A” group from the Langley Ukulele Association (in existence for over 40 years); there are other groups through which students pass and learn before getting to the top tier. Under the direction of Paul Luongo and led by his father for decades before him, this group also teaches children aged 8 to 11 to learn this most common but sweet four-stringed instrument (although we did see an eight-string in there). You can deep dive at langleyukes.com.

Our trio was mesmerized by the youth, the enthusiasm, the grace and humour of this 18-person ensemble and, most of all, by the exceptional musicianship. I recorded some of their performance, which was – to our regret and as you’ll see in a moment – witnessed by a very small group on a summer day. But what we lacked in numbers, we made up for in enthusiasm. And although I didn’t get the first verse of this song, enjoy “Bohemian Rhapsody” by this group of 12- to 18-year-olds from the BC mainland who ferried over to share their talent and joy. Oh, they’ve travelled farther than that: in various incarnations over the years, the group has performed in numerous places, including Hawaii, where the ukulele is as symbolic of the state as leis and swaying palm trees.

Do be sure to listen for the very last vocal chord of this Queen classic. That note you may hear sung, jumping in before “blows,” that’s me. I should have left it to the pros! But my heart was in the right place, even if that note wasn’t. You can watch and listen to it on my Facebook page, or here on YouTube.

Enjoy and have a lovely holiday Monday. I’ll have another video journal next week. And please enjoy a sleep story tonight on Drift with Erin Davis…free, made possible by Kathy and Kim at enVypillow.com. Thank you and sweet dreams.

Just a thought… Your dream doesn’t have an expiration date. Take a deep breath and try again. [Kt Witten]

You can watch a video version of this journal on my Facebook page, or here on YouTube.

Still catching your breath after Friday’s 28-5 Jays win over Boston? I can’t help but think that on the first game back for first-base coach Mark “Bud” Budzinski after losing his 17-year-old daughter in a tubing accident, he might have wondered if Julia was his Angel in the Outfield. I know I do. (Does anyone else remember that movie? It was a favourite in our house as Lauren was growing up….)

Now…where was I?

Ah yes, today’s journal. We go back in time a bit to a post about some yogurt drinks for the kidlets. Their “best before” date was the next day and they were on sale – hugely – and so I had to buy them. And then I asked you what you would do: would you purchase and, secondly, would you give them to the kids?

I thought I’d be able to collect and count the responses, but with so many on Facebook, Twitter and Instagram, it was impossible. SO many responses – nearly 100 on FB alone. Of those, and let’s make it a percentage, about 5% said absolutely not. Maybe 2% said they’d eat it themselves but not give it to the children. And the rest consisted of wisdom like this:

“There’s a difference between ‘best before’ and ‘expiry.’ ‘Best Before’ indicates the quality of food might not be 100% but still safe to eat.”

“Best Before is just a suggestion.”

“Does it pass the sniff test?”

“If they’re not open, they’re okay.”

Okay, well, I’m sure it does go bad eventually, but I’ve never opened a container of yogurt, no matter how old, that had mold on it. Once it’s been unsealed and forgotten in the fridge for a few weeks, absolutely – but never new. Perhaps I’ve been lucky.

Oh, and someone else said to buy the drinks and freeze them in ice trays! To me, that makes total sense. After all, you can freeze anything, really; it’s just how it thaws that determines whether it’s a good idea, right?

One woman said she throws things out a few days before the date stamped on her food. I promised no judgment in my original post, and you know, that’s her business. But it makes me so sad to see good food go to waste, especially when it’s perfectly fine to eat for days or weeks after the date stamped on it.

This past Friday, I bought a jug of milk that was half off because it expires this coming Wednesday. And I knew the milk would be gone by then, so I count that as a solid win. There’s no shame in discount groceries, doggy bags or leftovers, for heaven’s sake. Because more than half of total food waste happens at home.

I’m not a Depression-era child like my parents, but as I age, it’s become a passion with me to find food deals: I search out the dairy that’s near its d-day. I pore over that rack near the back of the store with products that are getting a bit dusty. I keep eggs in the fridge for weeks and weeks.

A short power outage or trip with food in the car doesn’t worry me in the least. I cut off the bruises; trim the white or blue off the cheese that isn’t meant to be white or blue; buy stuff and freeze it right away. The average family of four wastes about $2000 worth of food in a year. Regardless of income, how dare we?

This isn’t scientific and I’m the last person to give dietary or health advice. (And in a moment I’ll link to an article that reminds us all of the no-wiggle-room items like baby formula.) All I can tell you is that I’ve only once gotten food poisoning and it was from foolishly thawing salmon on the counter, changing my mind about dinner and freezing, then thawing it again another time. I deserved to be sick and I was. Food poisoning is not a joke and my kitchen isn’t the set of Fear Factor. I wouldn’t endanger those I love; if I wanted to do that, I’d cook more!

But seriously, with inflation as high as it is worldwide and, of course, at home, we have to look at this logically. And to that end, I have for you a handy list of when things should be used, saved or pitched. The link is here from RealSimple.com.

Take a moment to visit if you’re interested and I hope you’ll share this journal, which I promise has no expiry date. Oh, and neither do my Drift with Erin sleep stories, which I hope you’re enjoying for free through Simplecast.com. Have a lovely week and I’ll be back with you here on the holiday Monday.

Just a thought… The two most powerful warriors are patience and time. [Leo Tolstoy]

You can watch a video version of this journal on my Facebook page, or here on YouTube.

So, hey! Nice to have you here after a week that, for me, has seen a lot of talking, walking, sitting and sharing. Yes, as I mentioned, my sister Cindy – the one who lives in a primarily Canadian and American community in Mexico called Ajijic – came to visit.

Cindy got here safe and sound and we headed straight for my happy place, which soon became hers: Shirley, BC. It’s near Sooke if you’re looking it up (and you should).

We put on our visors, (top down on the MINI, of course) for the hour-long drive outside Victoria. We strolled the beach, admired the views…

…with breezy sunshine and highs in the mid-teens.

Stayed warm in this water but not the ocean, thanks…

…and by a perfect wood fire in the evening.

Mostly, we took time to breathe. To inhale the indescribable beauty and the peace. The quiet and solitude.

You may recall I told you Cindy’s story a few months ago: married for 40 years, her husband decided to leave her for an American woman he met after he and Cindy had moved all the way to Mexico. Now, Cindy’s like me – like my mom and all four of her daughters, for that matter. When the world shudders or falls apart completely, she takes steps to steady it. And she has taken solid steps to keep moving forward and, heck, some days, just to keep standing tall.

To that end, some of our time was also spent online where she’s starting to dip her toes into the idea of the dating world after four decades of “Status: Married.” Okay, now that was an experience. Writing a profile; how do you sum up who you are so that others will see if you’re a good fit, while also being honest, but not too honest, interesting but not weird, and so on. I have enough trouble with my Twitter bio for heaven’s sake. But there she is, sifting through people who might be a good match according to Facebook’s dating algorithms, and deciding what steps, if any, to take next.

Honestly, I get anxious just thinking about it. I know dating sites have worked for a lot of people, and maybe I’ve watched too many Dateline episodes (as if that’s a thing) but it seems an awful lot of these guys either have a background in creative writing or they seem too good to be true. Of course, I worry for my sister because she’s early in recovery from heartbreak. Like death, it’s a kind of grief that you get through but not over. Well, maybe with new love – who knows? I guess I have to trust she knows what she’s doing and that the universe will give her a break.

Tomorrow she’s off to Kelowna for another sister visit and to see Dad for the first time in three years. Did her stay here help? I don’t know – I can only hope. Often, time itself is the only thing that helps. But if this isn’t part of the prescription…

…I don’t know what is. Have a gentle week. I’ll be in touch as always every day on Facebook, Twitter and Instagram.

Oh, and thank you for helping put my Drift sleep stories in the top 1.5% of downloaded podcasts worldwide. Tomorrow, I’ll be releasing my take on The Frog Prince. You’ll be able to get it here. Sweet dreams!

Just a thought… When I die I want my tombstone to offer free WiFi just so people will visit more often. [Author Unknown]

Ooh – that’s a little too close to home after Friday’s big Rogers service disruption. Anyway, hi! You can watch a video version of this journal on my Facebook page, or here on YouTube.

Can we talk about expiry dates? Not the ones on food – I’ll save that for another time, I promise – and thanks if you weighed in on a social media question I asked last Friday.

No, I want to talk about our expiry dates. I will apologize right from the jump if this seems insensitive to you because someone you know is very ill or has just passed. You know our story about loss thanks to Mourning Has Broken: Love, Loss and Reclaiming Joy and believe me, I feel you. And thanks again to the lady who sent a picture of her copy now for whomever happens to borrow it from her little book nook. Love this.

But it’s this particular day on the calendar that has me thinking of expiries and here’s why: ever since I was a child, two dates have stuck out in my head (I thought for no good reason): May 11 and July 11. Sounds strange, I know. But seven years ago I learned why May 11 was in bold letters in my life, as that’s the day that a big part of me left this earth, in the form of our daughter.

Which brings me to July 11. Unless you’re reading something on the internet tomorrow (if my departure should garner any attention at all) then I’ve made it through another July 11. And no, it’s not that I have some fixation on 7-11 stores. Maybe they’re where I’ll buy a winning lottery ticket. Who knows?

But it gets me to thinking: how do we want to be remembered? I don’t mean in deeds and legacies, those “big picture things,” but how do people decide which picture should be the one for that “final write-up?”

Is it from a headshot taken for your job, or an event where you were dressed to the nines and looking particularly fancy?

Maybe it’s you doing something you loved or finally got to do once.

Look, just like everybody under the ground in Egypt there, when I’m gone I’m not going to care. But please make sure that my picture doesn’t have too many chins, I’m looking happy but not drunk, and there’s a nice background.

Or maybe you should choose your own or decide who gets to pick. Because if I know my family, it’ll be this one.

I know it’s a weird thing even to think about on a summer day, but blame July 11. Meantime, you have yourself a good week and I’ll be here with you next Monday.

My sister’s visiting us tomorrow from Mexico via Toronto so that’s exciting (if she gets out of Pearson). Honestly! But when she does get here, it’ll offer me a chance to be a tourist in my own area. And with gas prices, airlines and airports as they are, I think we all need a bit more of that. Thanks for coming by!