I just finished reading Little Women by Louisa May Alcott. It’s on my list as a book I was to read as a child, but I didn’t read it then – I read it now.

My take away from this book, is realizing the utter lack of language skills we have today; especially those used in everyday conversation. I will say, those Little Women had some splendid chinwags.

Generally speaking, our vocabulary sucks in comparison. For example, if you are able (without getting sick) listen to the president of the United States. He uses the same 12 unimpressive words, every time he speaks. Honestly, I seriously doubt he can read, and if he can, he doesn’t.

I held a FB contest asking people for new words.

These contests are fun, and I did learn from it —  but more than anything, I was offered big words. Words we don’t and won’t use in everyday conversation, unless we are doctors, drug makers or food creators.

Of the following words, is there one you might use in conversation?
Perfidy, Floccinaucinihilipilification, Callipygian, Nemophilist, Agitos.

I spent some time with Marian on Bowen Island last week. I love spending time with her for many reasons. Marian is funny, extremely talented, and oh so, very interesting. She is also one of the smartest people I know, and I know A LOT of smart people. She also effortlessly, tossed in one of those words as we spoke!

I can honestly say, that at some point in every conversation, I interrupt Marian, to ask for clarification, of a particular word, she used. Her vocabulary is staggering!

She challenges me to stretch my vocabulary as well. I love it. And, good friend that she is, she has never made me feel stupid, when I struggle. (I do that on my own.)

Our friends, Ed and Marsha, in Campbell River, hosts an adult spelling bee, through the Elder College over there. What a fine way to learn new words!

When I first thought about starting a writing practice; the piece of advice I was given more than any, was to read. Read, read, read. I thought I would be told to write, write and write.

Today, I understand how reading, and consorting with others who read, is paramount to unlocking just about any puzzle.

I also think that not reading, is but one, of the many reasons, tRump is such an atrocious lummox.

It is not unusual to come upon strange things when I walk in the bush around here.

I’m not talking about bears, this time. On many occasions, I smell the sour aroma of pot. Rarely do I come across the folks smoking it, but often enough, this stink is in the air. Personally, I’d rather smell skunk.

More often, I come across funny things; a plastic monkey in a tree, the odd glove on a stick. I found a tea pot and wooden fairy once.

This winter, I saw a lot of plastic milk jugs, hooked up to trees, with a hose.

I pointed them out to Ken and he called it right away. “Those are maple trees, someone is tapping them.”

No way! Sunshine Coast maple syrup!

Years ago, (there it is) when I traveled back east to teach at Dorian’s, the maple syrup is a huge industry. Montreal maple syrup is common too, but they all use sugar maples. I’ve not heard of west coast, big leaf syrup before. Maybe I haven’t been paying attention.

Yesterday, I saw a man messing with the jugs. Hey! said, in the most nosey of Parker ways.

“Hey, what are you doing?”

His name was Jack, and we chatted for quite a while.

He’s been tapping close to 120 big leaf maple trees for the last few years. All the trees are on crown land and, yes — he is making maple syrup!

I was super curious. I really wanted more information, more so I wanted to taste some local big leaf maple syrup!

Of course, neither of us had a means of exchanging information. We had no pencil, paper or phone between us; not even a camera.

After deciding our memory was crap, and that neither of us would remember a phone number for the hour it would take to get home. We started in on the, I live here, I know them, you know where such and such is, my last name is, I’m in the phone book but, not that one, that’s my nephew… and on we went, until I was sure I had enough information that I could find Jack again.

Several hours later, Ken and I were at Jack’s house —checking out his operation!

Jack has a very funky, bootleg type of still, going strong on his property. There was close to 34 gallons of sap on the boil; the last batch of the season.

Jack said he collected well over 150 gallons of big leaf maple sap this winter. He only had a few bottles of syrup left from all that and gave us taste.

Holy Moly! Ken said it would be good to pour over ice cream just to cut the sweet!

We came home with two small bottles of the local goodness!

I’m still deciding between french toast, waffles or pancakes for breakfast this morning — but no matter what ends up on our plate, you can bet it will be smothered in west coast, big leaf maple syrup!

Pretty darn exciting if you ask me.

I went to the movies last night.

One of the reasons we chose to move to Sechelt was, it’s a small town with “stuff.”

Stuff like a swimming pool, hospital, and movie theatre.

We don’t go out often, so, it’s nice when we do, that there are plenty of places to go, and a lot of things to do on the coast.

Instead of watching the Oscars last night, I thought it would be a good night to go to the movies. I figured most people who like movies, would stay home, and watch a show about those movies.

I was wrong — the theatre was full, and I was lucky enough to sit with people I knew from the dog park. It was nice.

I saw Manchester By the Sea.

I think everyone knows this is one very sad movie. I noticed I held my hand over my heart though most of the film.

But, this was not because of the heartbreak of the story, my hand was on my heart, because I was so happy at seeing Manchester By the Sea again — not the movie, the town.

I lived in Manchester by the Sea years ago.

I was really happy there.

I would not trade my life as it is today, with anyone for any reason.

Just as I know, I would not trade the time I spent, with the people I knew, in Manchester by the Sea, for all the sand on Singing Beach.

The people I sat with at the movies, left feeling depressed, not me. I was high as a kite, filled with joyful memories, of a special place, at a particular time, in my life.

Salute!

I just finished reading Projection by Priscila Uppal – I was going to check it off my list as a memoir, but I’ve already read a memoir, so I’ll check off “read a book with a one word title” from my list.

Projection is the title, yet the sub title: Encounters With My Runaway Mother, is what made me check this out of the library.

This is a good read. I think it had a happy ending, others (including the author) may disagree with me.

The story got me thinking. Five star review just for that.

Projection made me think about the difference between the actions of someone who is self-centred and narcissistic; and one who has a mental illness.

I’m not trained to know the difference, and right or wrong.  I seem to accept and/or excuse certain behaviour through the label I alone assigned.

Uppal’s mother is definitely self centred; perhaps she is mentally ill, she’s mean and appalling. Personally, I don’t know how she is able to live with herself. In the end, I’m not sure if she is looking for credit or blame.

If we look at that fucker Trump – there is no doubt the guy’s a whack job. Some people say he is mentally ill, and maybe being a narcissus asshole is a form of mental illness, but then again maybe he is just a mean asshat. At some point this discussion needs to come up though, because how I look at the two are different. People with mental illness concern me; assholes just piss me off.

The story behind Projection was Uppal’s personal journey. I doubt she cared if anyone read this book or not. She is a writer by trade so, she writes.

In a nutshell, Uppal had a happy, normal life for her first 8 years. Her parents loved each other, and when a freak accident left her father a quadriplegic needing constant care, her mother could not or would not deal; packed her bags and left.

Just left.

20 some years later, the author comes across her mothers name on the internet by chance. She reaches out, and travels to where her mother is living in Brazil. Uppal holds hope of getting to know her runaway mother; maybe even come to understand if not her, then at least her actions.

I’ve seen the look in peoples eyes, when I’ve told stories of my upbringing. Especially when I mention some of the things both my parents and brother Bill have said, at different times in my life.

No matter how hard someone tries to be cool, the look is hard to hide. Reading this book, I had that look on my face often.

Again, it’s hard to know reading this, if Uppal’s mom is mentally ill or really just a selfish asshat.

Does it matter?

I admit — it does to me.

When I realized my mother was mentally ill, my love for her deepen. But, like I said, a self-centred asshat is just an ass, and I tend to hold contempt.

I think Uppal also, had to figure this out for herself.

Why do people write and tell their stories?

I’m going with — we have to.

I’ll be back in a few of days.

In the mean time here’s a cute photo of our doggy.

Years ago… (my version of, it was a dark and stormy night), when I was in Desktop Publishing school at the University of Oregon, I took a class to learn Pagemaker.

Pagemaker was, (maybe still is) a page layout program for small and home-office professionals. At the time was a new and an upcoming big deal.

Our task was to make a poster.

Most of these posters were design disasters. People wanted to use every feature the software offered. This meant multiple fonts, were bolded, italicized and underlined. The most complicated feature everyone struggled to figure out was how to rotate text.

A poster was nothing if the word FOR SALE wasn’t set on an angle.

You would think the click of the button would make this happen, but as I recall it was way more complicated than that, and getting this to happen was a nightmare that messed with all the printers in the computer lab.

Remember this was in the olden days.

I bring this up because of how I remember it, and the lesson I learned at the time.

See, several students were bound and determine to make this slanting type thing work on their project. They spent hours in the computer lab trying to make it so.

Me, I took the easier, softer way. I did the old fashion thing, and printed out the words in the type I set. Then I did a real life cut, and paste job, with an exacto knife, and glue stick. I place FOR SALE on a nice angle, then all I had to do was scanned it and print it. Ta-Da! My poster was finished in 30 minutes.

I was on to the next project while my class mates were still sitting at lab computers, clicking buttons, stomping their feet, tearing out their hair, and wishing technology be something it wasn’t. I thought about the hourly fee someone might charge for this poster and moved on.

How this relates to today —

I’m learning a new technique in quilt making. It is called “quilt as you go.” It’s a very different way of creating and sewing, for me.

What I’m finding is, planning is a necessary part of this technique in quilt-making. Planning is not my strong suit. I like to create on the fly, and see what I get and make adjustments along the way.

With “quilt as you go”, when you are finished, so is your quilt. So, every time I sew a piece of fabric, I’m also sewing the batting and the backing all together. It’s pretty cool, but attention is called for.

The design I’m doing looks very simple. From the outside, it looks like scraps of fabric are sewn easy peasy, one right next to the other. But, the technical construction of the quilt, is actually quite complicated.

I hit a place yesterday where I just could not figure out how to make the sash connect to the strip. I tried and tried and just before I thought to stomp my feet and rip my hair out…I thought of my desktop publishing days.

Then, I took the easier softer way.

I put on my thimble, and threaded a needle. I spent the evening hand-sewing.

I’m not on the clock, and this quilt is coming along nicely now!

Six years ago, Allyson and I created the Today’s Step app.

It was an amazing experience and in my humble opinion, we put a very cool thing into the world.

At the time, I thought of myself as the queen of “bumper sticker philosophy”. I like zippy, one liners of wisdom, mostly because I have a short attention span. At the time, my idea was to make a desktop, page a day calendar, but Allyson talked me into the app to keep up with the technology and times.

Today’s Step was designed to encourage people with a daily practice. It didn’t matter if the practice was Tai Chi, yoga, sobriety or sailing. The idea was that Today’s Step would encourage you in that practice.

I’m bringing this up now because, while I’m glad we’ve moved on to other projects, I miss the daily hit of wisdom. So this year I decided to go ahead and finally created a desktop calendar for myself in the fashion of Today’s Step.

Everything changes and what I thought was helpful six years ago, is a bit boring, trite, or not a priority for me today. So, instead of using the actual TS quotes, unwittingly I’ve used a lot of the quips that didn’t make it into the original TS.

My recovery from addiction is not in the forefront of my mind now. Neither is the deep study of standing inside myself. So, the words of wisdom I look for today are different.

For instance, a few quotes I’m using now:
a) How we step into practice is important; but, sometimes a girl just needs new shoes.
b) Its all shits and giggles until someone giggles or shits!

Also, I asked others for quotes for the original TS here’s one we didn’t use, but I sure can now.
“I’m gonna start a business of evangelical religion, mega-vitamins, and bowel function and I’m gonna make a killing.” —Mika S

With the creation of my desktop calendar, and because it is personal, I’ve added photos to personalize it even more.

For example — today would have been Kim’s birthday. So I chose this photo to remember.

On Kathy’s birthday I put my favourite photo of her teaching me to cook.

From these examples you would think I’m in every photo, I’m not. But….here’s a fun one of me and Sandie back in our big hair days. It makes me smile.

This calendar has been a fun project — like the original Today’s Step it is inspirational and keeping me off the streets!

Last night, I dreamed the perfect opening line to a great story.

This morning, I can’t remember it.

Do you know how many times I’ve been late for anything.

Zero!

I’m never late. I’m also never on time. I am one of those people who arrive early, drive around the block a few times, then sit in the car, and wait for the appointed time.

I’m an early bird.

Ken knows this about me, accepts me, and humours me. I’m lucky — he doesn’t give me shit when I’ve got my shoes on, and am tapping my toes, and drumming my fingers 15 minutes before it’s time to leave.

I was the first to arrive at every class I taught over the years. If I wasn’t;  it was because I wasn’t in charge of my transportation.

If I say I will do something or be somewhere at a given time — you can count on me to show up — early.

So you can only imagine how my heart was racing last night when I realized the dinner I was cooking for the shelter was going to be — LATE!!!!!

Typically, I was prepped and ready hours before I needed to be. Cakes had been baked, the salad was chopped and dressed, and I had two giant pans of chicken rice casserole assembled and waiting to be put in the oven.

Dinner would be ready and delivered to the shelter by 6pm!

Except… time got away from me. I got side tracked. I didn’t turn on the oven and when I finally did – I was LATE!!!!!

Not by a lot, but still — LATE!

Finally, everything was ready — we loaded the car and had our seat belts on at 6:09 pm, the shelter is 6 minutes away.

Dinner arrived at 6:15.

Guess what?

No one cared.

Do you know how many times I’ve been late for anything.

Once!

Marsha Zuest suggested I read They Left Us Everything by Plum Johnson. A book set in her hometown/region of Oakville, ON.

At first I thought I could put it on my list of reads as a Memoir, but I got pretty excited when one of the characters in the book was named Jan. So, I can check, “read a book with a character who has your name,” off my reading list!

I recommend this book.

It’s a mother/daughter book, a memoir, a book about de-cluttering a house, and the untangling of family relationships after death.

I related to the story, even though my experience is very different.

After the death of her parents, Ms. Johnson was charged with clearing out her family home. It was a 10,000 square foot house packed full of memories, and artifacts — some personal, but most historical.

Her parents weren’t hoarders. They didn’t save trash, but like parents of the war generation, they didn’t throw much out either. And even with 4 siblings to help, it was Johnson, (the only daughter in the family) who took on the task of clearing the house.

After reading this book, I can say I’ve changed my mind about something I thought I was quite sure about.

I came to believe that parents need to clear their own clutter. Especially after the ordeal of clearing my moms stuff, I thought It was cruel to leave your shit for others to deal with.

But, after reading this book I realize, had I not cleared my mom stuff – I would not know her as well as I do today.

I learned a lot of things I didn’t know about my mom through her things. This was same experience Plum Johnson had.

It was in touching and sorting the stuff left behind, that both Johnson and I were able to heal a rocky relationship.

“We all have a secret life.” If I had not gone through my mom’s stuff, I never would have known the truth about her. She only showed me what she wanted me to see.

Years ago, I heard someone say, “We are the same person today as yesterday, except for the people we meet and the books we read.”

I am changed by this book.

I changed my mind when she wrote “I used to think parents should clean up their own mess before they depart this world; now I think just the opposite. Don’t die early. Wait till your children are old enough to appreciate it, and then leave them everything.”

This book made me realize that the real cutter I had to deal with wasn’t mom’s hoard; it was and always will be, the clutter that accumulates in my head and heart.

Thanks Alice!