Erin's Journals

Just a thought… Someday – you will just get sick of being hungover. [@JannArden on Twitter Aug. 16 2020]

Whew – what a weekend! We got a call on Saturday that the kids’ moving truck would be pulling into their driveway the next day, and so it did; so far, so good. We are hoping all boxes are accounted for, although to be honest, we only got in about four hours of hard-ish labour. With one adult entertaining a baby, we’re down a pair of hands, but we have lots and lots of time to figure this out.

Last night we celebrated with pizza, DQ cake and PJs. A lovely, unexpected development in the weekend.

I’m reminiscing a lot these days: it was a year ago yesterday that my six weeks in rehab came to an end. There’s an email hanging over my head that I really need to answer and I thought that as I mark this anniversary (my one year sobriety came and went on June 30), I’d write a response to her. 

The past year, I’ve found myself being contacted by women who see themselves in me (or vice versa) and I’m eternally grateful for the fact that it’s something that anyone can relate to: my even talking about stopping drinking and getting help with the problems that led to me picking up again in Dec. 2016.

I often joke that if you can’t be a good example, then you’ll have to be a terrible warning. And so I’m responding to the most recent email I got (and I’ve let her know privately that I’m doing this) in hopes that if you find yourself in my sandals or know of someone who does, you’ll be able to share this with them.

Because You Wrote Asking How I Did It…

by Erin

You’ve gotten to a point where you’re worried that you’re more than a “social” drinker. Whether it’s self-isolation, recent retirement, boredom or stress, you have found your intake of wine, cocktails, beer – whatever – on the rise. And you don’t like it.

I mean, you do like it at the time – most of us do – but you don’t like the knowledge that when you open that bottle of Pinot, you know you’re not leaving any by the time you go to bed. You might even open another, right? 

You like how that first sip of an icy martini or a spicy Caesar just gets you a little warm all over, like a wash of wellness and comfort that starts at your toes and gently rises up until the colour comes to your cheeks. 

That colour. Rosy red that is starting to show on your face the morning after. Are those broken capillaries? Huh. You haven’t noticed them because you’re busy applying concealer to the dark circles under your eyes. Under-eye concealer, eye drops, ibuprofen: the i’s have it. As in “I think I have a problem.”

You likely chide yourself for having such a thought; you know plenty of people who drink way more than you, and none of them considered asking for help or thought they might need to examine their intake. I mean, how many DUIs have you had? Well, none.

You plan ahead and do your drinking at home; no one in your office or circle of friends would ever imagine that after sipping your one beverage slowly when you’re with them, you go home and can’t wait to crack open that bottle that has been patiently anticipating your return.

You can’t have a problem: you really only drink on Fridays and weekends! And never alone. Okay, rarely; you deserve to sip a glass or three of wine while you read a good book. It’s civilized; all of the memes online say so. Cook with wine (and even put some in the food!). Drink to survive parenting. Drink to survive COVID. Drink to deal with stress. Drink to forget. Drink to celebrate. Drink to mourn. Drink. Drink. Drink. What kind of a wuss would you be if you stopped?

Your clever brain tells you that you don’t possibly have a problem: you count your drinks, after all. You aren’t like those people whose elevator has gone all the way down, living in the streets with no home and seemingly no hope; you know when to stop.

You can’t imagine walking yourself into a 12-step meeting (although all you know of them is 50s movies with smoky rooms filled with forlorn, fedora-wearing failures). You forget the glamorous types: Mary Tyler Moore, Dick Van Dyke, Ringo Starr, Elton John, Jann Arden, Robert Downey Jr., Bradley Cooper, Rob Lowe, Demi Lovato, Daniel Radcliffe…and that’s just a few. 

But if they do cross your mind, you remember that they’re all rich; they must all have gone to some posh resort and gotten sober in anonymity, your sharp mind tells you. Yes, most of those people, if not all, have a lot of zeroes in their bank account (in the right places, mind you). But you’re forgetting the meetings, those 12-step gatherings, where there’s no bouncer at the door, just a greeter. Who you think you are, what you earn or what you have is immaterial; it’s what you want – sobriety – that is the only price of admission.

I was tired of hiding. Tired of feeling ashamed. Tired of not moving forward. Tired of looking so tired. Tired of the weight gain. Tired of the lethargy. Tired of depression. Tired of the fog: forgetting words when I needed them, having to check emails to see if I’d answered, tired of not knowing how a movie ended. Just. So. Tired.

If you’re tired, you know, a brighter morning awaits. And however you decide to stop –  whether it’s writing to a stranger or calling a friend, Googling “find AA meeting near me” (online these days or safely distanced in a parking lot somewhere), looking up treatment centres or picking up a book that resonates with you (for me it was A Thinking Person’s Guide to Sobriety by Bert Pluymen) and reading it, then re-reading it numerous times – it’s never too early and never too late. “A journey of a thousand miles begins with a single step,” they say.

Some of us quit in our forties (and again in our fifties); others in their twenties, and some even in their sixties or seventies. It doesn’t matter what year, just the day you wake up and say you don’t want to feel like this anymore: sluggish and filled with regret and remorse for the precious days you’re just wasting, the days when you feel like doing nothing except counting the hours ’til the wine comes out of the fridge or it’s time to crack that beer. That’s the day it all begins. The day you say no more – but just for today.

Because that’s all it is. Today…and hope for another one. Why else do you think we say “One Day at a Time?”

I’ll be back with you Thursday. And, oh, so grateful.

Just a thought… Your home should tell the story of who you are, and be a collection of what you love. [Nate Berkus]

How’s your week going? Well, I hope; I’ve got so much going on in our house these days and so much of it has to do with OTHER houses. First off, some great news: Phil and Brooke’s three-bedroom in Barrhaven, outside of Ottawa, went up for sale yesterday (after they’d moved out and had it tarted up) and there are no fewer than 13 showings booked for today.

An actual offer came in yesterday but they’re just kind of biding their time. Who could have imagined that in a time of such uncertainty and upheaval in almost every other area of our lives, the real estate market would be red hot in so many places?

Actually, we had an inkling earlier this summer of how things were going when we were helping Phil and Brooke find their new forever home here on the island: most of the houses in their price range were gone before we could even get a viewing! We all count ourselves lucky that they found a lovely place so close to ours. But for now, they’re really close – right here.

Tomorrow it will be three weeks since they landed at YYJ…and still no word of where their moving truck is. When Brooke checked in with the small company yesterday she was told it was “in transit.” Um-hm. (Like their truck, or whomever they’ve farmed out to, doesn’t have GPS or something?)

How fortunate they are not to be paying a nightly hotel rate or enduring some other huge inconvenience. We’re just loving having them here and we even get to sleep in a little while they’re quietly starting their day. Perfect! There are a lot of blessings to count and, trust me, we’re doing it daily.

Next week I have the opportunity to record a podcast with Sarah Richardson, launching on crea.ca in early September, for the Canadian Real Estate Association show that I do monthly. In talking with Sarah, whom you know as a designer, creator, author and broadcaster, she brought up something really interesting – and quite true – about the current housing situation and it extends not only to homeowners but to those folks who rent as well.

With the self-isolation and work-from-home world we have inhabited since March of this year, people have come to see where they live through different eyes. For many, our homes have multi-tasked as restaurant, office, gym and hotel. And people are starting to look at their surroundings and ask what if this isn’t just a 2020 thing?

We’re changing how we see our homes and want to make them suit us for so much more, if we are able. It’s why, in the early days of staying locked inside our homes, paint stores were doing a booming business. People decided to make their homes more livable. And why not? I mean, as long as there is the money to do it, a coat of paint can be the next best thing to a renovation.

It ties in with a motto I’ve long had: we should live in our homes as if we’re about to sell them. When does your place ever look better – cleaner, more orderly, fewer paint chips or broken door handles – than when you’re listing? Yesterday when she saw the pictures and video of their Ottawa place, our daughter-in-law said, “It almost makes me want to live there!”

Fortunately, that feeling passed and the door has opened – literally – for another family to call their freshly painted, cleaned and touched-up house “home” – and soon!

At about the time their house closes (we hope), our tribulations with the house that we bought in Palm Springs will also be over. Having left it in a flurry in March, I swear to you as I said a quiet good-bye in my head, it occurred to me that I might never see it again.

Wondering if the pandemic or political fall-out might lead to a complete societal collapse, I let the thought cross my mind that we would never return. And I was right. Of course, we made this happen because of the happy turn of events in our lives north of the border, but who knows when we’d have been able to get travel health insurance again anyway?

Yesterday we spent three hours on FaceTime with a kind friend of my sister who is packing up six boxes or so of our belongings to FedEx back to Canada. We don’t know how else we would have done this and are eternally grateful for her time and work and considerable inconvenience in helping us get some clothes, books, a few kitchen items, family photos and odds and ends back to us here in Canada.

Of course I got Rob a guitar last Christmas! It’s on its way too; we sent an empty case down via FedEx on Monday. The headaches are enormous and we’ve been having to deal with the IRS, which mistakenly thinks we’re making a cent on this sale. (Actually, far from it, lest you think everyone who sells in a pandemic is coming out ahead.)

We are not complaining – not in the least. I remind Brooke when she feels guilty about us saying good-bye to the place in California that if someone had come to me while I was floating in the pool in February under clear skies and said, “You can have this, or you can have your family living just a few kilometres away – which do you want?” I’d have been packing my bags in my bathing suit.

After chasing happiness, it’s come to us. So the least we can do is be here to welcome it with open arms, right?

Have a good weekend and we’ll be back with you on Monday. 

Just a thought… Civility costs nothing, but buys everything. [Mary Wortley Montagu]

Well hello! Are you hockeyed out yet? I shared this picture on Facebook and other social media Friday. They were both in their jerseys yesterday, too. What a lovely tradition – however short- or long-lived!

Things are going well and smoothly here with our lovely family live-in. Colin has had his first play date with two boys who are grandsons of a dear friend, and we went to the ocean on a partly cloudy 22 degree day. I kept saying to Nancy, “You envisioned this: you said one day Colin and your two boys would be playing together and here they are. How is this even real?”

What’s also very real these days is the fact that BC is not as smug about being a shining light in COVID numbers for all of Canada and to the US. As more young people decide they can get their party on and not feel vulnerable, our numbers are on the upswing. According to an article at cbc.ca: 

In the past month, the number of daily active cases in the province has quadrupled from about 10 a day to more than 40. The number of active cases has more than doubled, reaching levels not seen since May. Outbreaks are now widespread enough to require the self-isolation of more than 1,500 British Columbians. There are now more active cases per capita in B.C. than Ontario. In other words, it’s not good.

No, it is not. While my dad and many others are either forcibly or voluntarily self-quarantining, the selfish and brainless among us are putting everyone at risk. It’s not fair, and it’s sure not right.

So, what to do? When we’re out in grocery stores and see people not wearing masks, we find ourselves trying not to judge or be indignant, but it’s hard. So when I found this article on npr.org on etiquette and how to deal with (or not deal with) people who won’t respect the masking requests, I thought it was well worth passing along to you today. The article, by Malaka Gharib, refers to advice from etiquette expert Elaine Swann.

Maybe you’ll find some wisdom in here worth sharing or tucking away. We sure did. While etiquette isn’t the first thing that comes to mind in the midst of a pandemic, it comes down to decency and civility and how to manouevre choppy and uncharted waters, even if they’re in the paint section of your local Home Hardware. (The takeaways at the end of each point are especially helpful.)

1. How do I tell somebody — especially a stranger — to step back because that person is just too close to me?

Swann says this is the No. 1 question people ask her. Your first inclination is to yell out, “Step back!” or “Get up off me!” she says — but those reactions aren’t exactly polite, and they’re likely to escalate the problem.

Instead, she says, try to use words like “we” and “us” in the request. For example, “Let’s just put a little bit of space in between each other while we’re waiting in line.” This shows mutual consideration — you’re thinking about how your behavior is affecting their health — and hope they are concerned with your safety too. 

Malaka Gharib/NPR

If you ask in a kind manner, people are likely to do as you ask, says Swann. More often than not, people want to be respectful of others. 

But if you start lecturing about pandemic safety or take on an abrasive tone, they might not be as willing to comply. They might “feel like they’re being chastised” or perceive your request as an attack on their moral character — that they are someone who does not follow rules. That might offend the person or make them feel defensive — and ultimately, the person might refuse your request. 

Takeaway 1: Show mutual consideration.

2. What if I ask a person to keep their distance or put on their mask — and they say no? 

“Then, do what you can to protect yourself,” says Swann: Turn your face away from that person, step over a few feet, walk in a different direction. 

Takeaway 2: Protect yourself.

3. It makes my blood boil when I see people not following the pandemic guidelines. Can I intervene?

Malaka Gharib/NPR

“If their behavior is not affecting you, let it go,” she says. “Folks are getting into these arguments and kerfuffles because they’re trying to get folks to comply with the pandemic guidelines. Stop trying to do that if the person does not want to comply. You have to let crazy be crazy and leave them alone.” 

The only time you should speak up, she says, is if it’s directly affecting your safety. Then you can try using some of the “we” and “us” language in her suggestion above.

Takeaway 3: Let it go.

4. What if I’m at a socially distanced outdoor gathering and, after a few hours, people start to bend the rules a little bit? 

Try using the “we” and “us” language if it’s just happening with an individual, says Swann — saying to the person, “Let’s make sure we stay in our little sections over here.”

But if it’s happening partywide, alert the host, she says. The person in charge has the authority to enforce the pandemic guidelines. Swann suggests: “I noticed that people are starting to get relaxed with the guidelines. I thought I’d bring that to your attention.” 

Malaka Gharib/NPR

If the host does something about it, then great, says Swann. “But if the shift doesn’t happen and you’re uncomfortable with the environment, then wrap it up. Just say, ‘You know what — I’m gonna head on home now. I had a great time.’ ” 

Resist the urge to get on your soapbox, she adds. “Don’t make an announcement and say, ‘Nobody’s following the rules, and therefore I’m leaving’ — then slam the door on your way out.” You want to make sure that your relationships make it to the other side of the pandemic, she adds. 

Takeaway 4: Take yourself out of uncomfortable situations — and remember to preserve relationships.

5. A friend invited me to hang out. How do I know whether it’s safe to do so? We might not be on the same page with the pandemic protocols.

Don’t make assumptions about how people are following the guidelines, says Swann. Some people, for example, feel safer staying at home, while others live as if the virus didn’t exist. So ask a few questions in advance, she says. For example: “I wear a face covering when I’m around others. How do you feel about wearing face coverings? Is that something you’re doing? Is this going to be a social distancing affair?” 

Malaka Gharib/NPR

Listen to what they have to say. “Then take a moment to step back and ask yourself whether it is something you feel comfortable with,” says Swann. “If not, say, ‘Thank you so much for the invitation, but I won’t be able to make it.’ ” 

And don’t push them to change their plans to fit your level of comfort, she adds. “This is not the time to police our friends and our family members. Instead, we should curtail our own behavior and make decisions on what’s best for ourselves.” 

Takeaway 5: Don’t assume.

6. BONUS ADVICE: What the heck do I do with my mask at a socially distanced meal?

When you’re eating, take the mask off completely, says Swann. And, she adds, “don’t have it hanging from one ear.” You’re going to be chomping and chewing and drinking and talking in the duration of that time, so it doesn’t make sense to try to wear it at the table, she explains. 

But don’t even think about putting your used mask on the table, says Swann. Aside from the germs, it’s a major etiquette no-no. In general, she says, “nothing should go on the table except for food.” That includes your cellphone, purse, keys, hat, laptop — and, of course, your mask. 

Carefully “place it in your bag, purse or in your pocket. Or you can place it on your lap underneath your napkin,” she says. “That way it is easily accessible when your server comes over to you.” Remember to mask up when your server is around, she notes, to keep them safe too. 

Takeaway 6: Please don’t put your mask on the table.

Don’t forget to print out A Pocket Guide to COVID-19 Etiquette With Elaine Swann. Fold it using these directions (courtesy of The Oregonian).

Just a thought… The entire sum of existence is the magic of being needed by just one other person. [Vi Putnam]

It’s been a crazy busy week. Not in a bad way – just a really eventful way! Colin met two of his “aunties” in Sidney and we had beverages out on a deck overlooking the harbour; he regaled them with stories of the Marvel characters in his movies, while we peppered him with questions about flying, having a sister and so on. As you can imagine, he made this grama very proud.

We’ve continued to move items gradually into Phil and Brooke’s new house and it looks as though their truck from Ottawa won’t be backing into their driveway for at least two more weeks. It’s hard not to be frustrated with the lack of concern on the moving company’s part about coming anywhere near their promised arrival date (tomorrow), but they hold all of the cards.

So we wait – and we don’t mind one bit from a hosting point of view! It’s all a big adventure as we explore the area together and enjoy the best weather we could ever have asked for: highs in the low- to mid-20s, very little precipitation and no humidity to speak of. I’m so glad that our promises of a gentler summer than they were sweating through in Ontario have proven to be true.

Rob and I had another new beginning this summer and it’s something we have been doing for about six weeks now; it makes me look forward to Thursdays more than I have since our band used to get together weekly on that night for practice. We’ve signed up to deliver meals to the elderly and those who aren’t feeling confident going out during COVID. It’s on behalf of our local community centre in Sidney and we love it!

After having gotten the clean bill from a police check, we answered the call passed to us through a fellow Rotarian that drivers were needed for people who either couldn’t go out to buy groceries, or chose not to risk being in public during COVID.

As a team, Rob and I divide the chores: he puts all of the dozen or so addresses into the GPS and prepares the next recipient’s bag. Then when we arrive at each person’s home, I jump out, grab the delivery and walk briskly to their door.

Sometimes it’s an apartment and I have to call to get them to unlock the lobby door, then take an elevator or stairs when possible; other times it’s hunting out a number on a trailer or finding the proper house on the block.

No matter where the recipients live, after I knock or ring the doorbell, I’m usually greeted with a grateful smile. Of course, I have gloves and a mask on so they can’t see my face, but I hope they know I’m returning the smile as I make a little small talk and pass off the bag of meals (one hot, three frozen, with an additional bag containing cookies and an apple and orange).

I wish I could stay and chat with many of these older folks, but a tight two-hour window, addresses scattered sometimes several kilometres apart and, of course, the limitations posed by a mask on my face and some hearing difficulties on a few of the recipients’ parts seem to set a lot of boundaries.

It’s been just a few weeks, but some of these folks have already made impressions on me: there’s a lady with beautiful blue eyes and a friendly smile who loves to chat; there’s another who comes slowly to the door in her robe and is tiny and lovely to me when she opens the door.

The drop-offs aren’t always memorable for the right reasons: one fellow mixed up delivery days so I knocked, waited and knocked again. After a few minutes he did come to the door, but was only partially clothed in a T-shirt. Let’s just say my eyes stayed locked on his! And on the occasion that someone has had to go to hospital or is in the shower (both scenarios happened last week), I visit a neighbour and leave the food with them, then if I can, I call and leave a message for the intended recipient.

One residence has a circle of women sitting out in social-distanced safety, with appetizers and drinks, dogs at their feet and a friendly wave and smile when they see us pull up in our little red convertible. As I say, there are often glitches, but the important thing is that people are getting their meals as promised. And best of all, I didn’t cook them!

We just love doing this. I’m not even kidding when I say that I’ve been counting down to today since Monday. It’s not just having human interaction, but feeling useful and needed. On the surface it may appear small, but it is a welcome reminder that even when these times have made us feel so far apart, we’re still connected in, oh, so many ways.

Have a lovely weekend and I’ll be back with a journal on Monday, plus daily posts on Facebook. See you there and thanks for coming by!

Just a thought… Pleasure may come from illusion, but happiness can only come from reality. [Nicolas Chamfort]

Well here we are, a few days into August and how strange does it feel not to be counting down to the CNE or PNE, or seeing “Back to School” signs and ads everywhere you turn?

Here in BC it appears our grandson Colin will indeed be starting up after Labour Day at the beautiful little school down the hill from our home. The plan is to put the children in pods – not actual ones like this…

…but small groups of their same peeps. What a wonderful way to start a new school, taking little steps and meeting just a few of your classmates at a time!

I picked up a special lunch bag with his Avengers characters on it yesterday so, yeah, I guess we’re thinking about what’s coming next month. What will we do with our days after six glorious weeks of parks, play, hide-and-seek and full-on grandparenting?

For now, we’re enjoying every adventure, including shopping for everything from spoons to bedding for Phil and Brooke’s new house and enjoying the luxury of being able to move them in slowly while we await the arrival of their belongings on a truck from Ontario.

I’m sure the neighbours on their quiet little street have been curious about the goings-on as three different cars drop by a few times a day to unload purchases and various pieces of furniture we’ve been working on to recover, paint and so on. Whatever they think, you can be sure that not one of them has figured out where Rob and I come into this picture. Sometimes even we wonder!

After Colin and Jane had gone to bed the other night, we four tired adults sat and had a nice, long talk. I told Brooke and Phil the story I’d read recently of a man who described a couple in his life as “not my biological family, but my logical family.” And I think that describes us to a tee. Related by blood to but one member of this precious foursome, we’re as close as any real in-laws could be.

We’ve been in the position where I have tried to describe in the vaguest of terms our circumstances: I told my family doctor about my daughter-in-law and son-in-law moving here and needing his services and of course people think either I’ve misspoken or they’ve misheard.

It’s kind of like the situation I describe in the book Mourning Has Broken: Love, Loss and Reclaiming Joy when people ask if Rob and I have children. A loaded question, to be sure, as how I respond depends on whether I wish to tell our story or not. Yes, and…or yes, but.

Right now, how the new neighbours, our fellow shoppers at Lowes or anyone else for that matter sees us really doesn’t matter to us. All we are is a happy little family beginning a brand new life together, feeling blessed to have this new chapter, this chance to write a happy ending. To take a sad song and make it better, as Mr. McCartney put so perfectly.

Thank you for coming by and on Thursday I’ll share with you the reason that that particular day of the week always lifts my heart even higher.