One right after the other.
This time of the year is full of memories of the heart for me.

Me+Kim. I miss her beyond words.

Linda, taught me about Rhinos. (They aren’t afraid to charge!)

Brother Bill.

And then… there was Peet.

Today, a shout out to a few I’ve loved; who died at the end of January, beginning of February and middle of March.

I remember with love.

There was a shift in the action yesterday as we finally got a date for surgery for Ken. I admit, my shoulders dropped a little and we were able to exhaled. I slept a solid 10 hours last night! I told my friend, I never even heard Ken last night, so he is either fine or dead — I promise to check on him soon either way.*

It was a big day for us in the city. Our small town nature was in full force and we took taxi’s to and from the hotel to the medical centre instead of dealing with the traffic and construction and looking for parking that driving in Vancouver entails.

As most of you know, I’m spoiled and rarely drive, so Ken and I decided as long as we are doing “hard,” the things we can do easy, we will. Taxi’s are easy.

As a side note: I surprised myself by driving 110 on the upper levels highway, hell bent for home when it was over. I’m glad to say, we made the ferry with 5 minutes to spare! (Again, shoulders down!)

The medical centre we went to yesterday is incredible. Our appointment was for 8 a.m. and I worried we’d be waiting outside for the doors to open! Ha! The place was buzzing, full of people, and going full tilt by the time we arrived at 7:30 a.m. I wondered if they had been open all night.

Before Ken could finish his paperwork, the latest doctor we’ve been referred to, call us in 20 minute before our appointed time! Nice!

Long story short – Ken is a perfect candidate for a particular laser surgery that Dr. Paterson will perform on Ken’s mega large prostrate The prognosis is good and risks are minimal. The hard part now is we wait.

I found it interesting to hear the doctor talk about the “public heath sector”. That’s what he called our Health Care system. Public health. I guess it makes sense, I just never thought of it like that.

Anyway – Dr. Paterson said, because public health is political, surgery time is now going to those with hip and knees needs. He said the back lash of wait times for those surgeries have finally caught up to the politics of the times, so more life threatening surgeries like bladder cancers , etc. Can have a wait time up to 6 months.

Now, while Ken’s surgery is a priority, his situation is not life threatening, (Whew) still the best date for the procedure we could get was March 5th!

I did blatantly try to bribe the receptionist who schedules things with a quilted shopping bag. And while I think she would have done it anyway, she did put Ken name on the cancellation list so, if by chance someone does cancel, he could get moved up. We will keep a bag packed just in case.

We use public health in Canada and right or wrong, it is swayed by politics. I will say again, how grateful we are to be in Canada. I cannot imagine what any of this would cost if we were in the states.

Yes, we need to wait now, yet with all Ken has been though the last few weeks, this is really the first long queue we have been in.

Life is good — even when it is hard.

*Ken’s up and at it!

That is how I tend to answer the question – How are you and Ken today? We are better than some, not as good as others. We are certainly not as good as we like either. Please note – I use the royal “we” all the time now.

It’s not a secret, but it’s also hard to broadcast and write about – Ken’s having some serious health troubles.

The reason it is hard for me to write about and post is, when I tell anyone, I then need to stand in the love offered. Then there are the questions, concerns and suggestions that comes full force back to us and, honestly, I lack the juice needed to interact much.

I don’t mean to sound ungrateful, I’m not. We are very fortunate to have so many generous friends who care. We are so very lucky in how well loved we are. We love you all so very much. I also know I would hate it if you didn’t respond!

I find it hard to keep everyone in the loop. I know I could do it here, yet it’s difficult to write and concentrate. Ken will be okay in the long run, but right now, it’s rough.

This coming Tuesday, will be the third hospital and fifth doctor, Ken’s seen in the last 11 days.

There have already been a torrent of ER visits, tests, scans, blood work, as well as, a buttload of medications, and excruciating pain to go with sleepless nights. Ken’s been poked and prodded and sent to this guy and that. He’s wearing a catheter and has such a relationship with it — he’s named it Cathy. We both look forward to the day they quit hooking up and Cathy is out of our lives!

We are told that the next doctor we are lined up to see, will be the one who can finally really help. It looks like prostate surgery is in order, and this particular doctor can do it with a laser and not cut Ken open.

Thanks for your support and good wishes. Forgive me when I either don’t get back to you, or when I do it is with a copy and paste update. We are doing the next right thing each day and more will be revealed.

I think of all the tests Ken has had, the nights in the ER and hospital, there are the doctors visits, and the amount of care and attention he has received, and more to come  — and I give a HUGE shout out to Tommy Douglas and the Canadian health care system. AND, thank YOU for your love and concern.
Salute!

While looking for inspiration and a topic to write about today, I came across this golden oldie from the Today’s Step vault.

If at your first qigong class the instructor said to you, “With regular practice of this art, you may experience some serious side effects, including a good night sleep, better digestion, lower blood pressure, and stress reduction. You may even experience a powerful self healing, you could meet wonderful friends, and enjoy the harmony of your body, mind and spirit”.
Would you try it?

Even though, I don’t teach much these days, I do have a wealth of experience, as well as, the hubris and habit of telling others what they “should or could” do to make life better.

I also know the answer to the above question is quite often, No!

Practice is a bitch, and change is hard. Especially if it’s not my idea.

I used to think showing up was the important part. But, now I’m not so sure.

I don’t think I’m that different from any one else but, having someone else tell me what to do is the worst. Especially, if it is “Good for you.”

The battle cry of, “Don’t tell me what to do, and you’re not the boss of me,” is rarely heard from adults, but often seen.

If I don’t want to do something, I will nod and smile, then silently turn away and not show up.

I might make a half-hearted attempt when someone I love points out — how good X,Y, or Z will be for me. And, believe me, I know, I really know, that with lessons, and practice, the world opens up.

Yet, even when you show me all the benefits, even if you make a good case for what I should do, — Even then, I might still say no.

Maybe it’s my age and experience, maybe I’m stubborn or silly, but more and more, I notice the real pay off and reason to practice anything, comes, when it’s our own idea.

Pajarito Mountain in Los Alamos has some of the states best skiing ever. I would say the hill is second only to Taos as far as challenge and beauty. It’s where I learned to snow ski.

I never took lessons, my dad would tell us to ski behind an on-going lesson, eavesdrop on the instructor, then do what they said. More than anything, we just let loose and skied. Being young, what could happen? (Plenty did, but that’s another story.)

The way I remember a day of skiing, was to ride the T-bar to the top of the mountain, (we didn’t have  chair lift in those days), then start on one side of the mountain, and ski down each and every slope. When you had hit them all, the day was done and we went home.

I remember, some runs were exciting and challenging, some were easier than others, some had moguls, some were super steep and others, almost flat. It didn’t matter, we skied them all.

When Ken and I met, we went skiing together in Colorado. When we got off the chair, I went to the first run on the right and Ken said, “No way — that’s a black diamond run!” I didn’t know what he was talking about.

Yesterday, I took my new compass and map and went hiking in the West Sechelt matrix. On the map besides the names of each trail I saw the marking. A blue square, a black diamond, even a double black diamond. Today, I know what these mean, but because I rarely look at maps, I don’t paid attention to them. I just know some trails are easier than others.

I went on a double black diamond trail yesterday.

A while ago, I told Becky, I couldn’t keep up with her when we hiked up and up! I needed to hike on “easier” trails, and she has since, accommodated me.

Well, I wasn’t in 10 minutes yesterday, before I was literally on my hands and knees crawling up a mossy trail, and saying to myself WTF!

I kept going and started talking out loud to myself. “Easy does it. Take a rest, watch your step. OMG! This is crazy steep!” At one point I started laughing — remembering Ken all those years ago — saying, “No way, that’s a black diamond.”

This particular trail was not really set up for hikers, it was more of an extreme mountain bike trail. It had trestles, and bridges, and all sorts of obstacles, that no sane person would walk on, much less ride a bike on. And yet…

Becky said you have to climb for the views, and oh my, as I took a lot of breaks, I had to agree, the view was incredible.

I used my compass several times during the hike. I wanted to get my bearings. I figured out north. I saw my place on the map. Yay me! Then I came to a choice on the trail. Another super crazy steep slope, or a logging road. I checked the map, and couldn’t find my place, so I tried to get the google to show me exactly where I was with the google maps thing. No signal.

I choose the over grown logging road. My legs had had enough of the double black diamond shit!

As I hiked on the road, deep in the bush, I had to jump over flowing streams, and wade through one. I duck under fallen branches, and kept the bell around my neck ringing, to let any wild life know I was there. (I also sing when hiking alone.)

At one point I realized I had one of those “runners highs.” Not that I was running, but being out in nature, on such a lovely day, in such a lovely place. My endorphins had kicked in and were coursing through me. It was … nice!

Back at the car, I talked to two young men on bikes, and asked them about the trail I was just on. They both laughed and said, that isn’t a hiking trail — that’s a double black diamond mountain bike trail.

Duh…
My legs are sore this morning. I’ll probably take an “blue square” hike today!

Years ago, Greg Phillips and I, got in a car together. We drove 10 hours to Golden, BC. for a tai chi workshop.

I remember only two things about that trip — the first was Greg was wearing shorts, and a bee flew in the window, and stung him on his inner thigh, while he was driving. It’s a miracle we are still alive.

The other thing I remember, was arriving at the camp, and someone saying, “We were worried, with Greg’s sense of timing and your sense of direction, we figured you’d be half way to Yukon by now!”

It was funny, because it was true.

I know the difference between left and right in some situations. But, ask me to face east or point north, (if I’m not standing in my kitchen) and you might as well ask me to solve a complex math problem. It’s not going to happen.

BUT… mark my words, that’s going to change this year!

Yesterday, while out hiking alone in the bush, I had to call Ken and ask him where I was.

I had a general idea, was totally safe, and I knew, I could always turn around and retrace my steps back to the car. However, I had a “plan” yesterday and wasn’t that far into it.

What I didn’t know at the time, was I had missed the turn off to trail I planned to take, and unexpectedly, came out on a logging road.

The trail map was at home, and I knew Ken could look at it, and tell me which way to go.

The only problem with that, was I wasn’t where I thought I was. So, his directions didn’t make any sense to me. After a bit of wandering, I retraced my steps, and came back home.

I still had a fabulous hike, it was a beautiful day, and when I got home, Ken had a “little gift” ready for me.

A compass.

My brain automatically went into math mode and shut down.

Then I woke up. I know with lessons and practice, a person can learn almost anything. So, I’m setting my sights on learning to read a compass.

I know I can do this.
Wish me luck!

I threw in the towel.

I’m a little disappointed that I couldn’t finish The Essex Serpent by Sarah Perry. I really liked the way the author would turn a phrase. However, I couldn’t understand the story she was telling.

This book had too many words for me. After two weeks, I tapped out on page 132.

I remember reading about a man, who wrote something like, “Forgive me, I didn’t have the time to write a shorter letter.”

It takes a lot of time to write well. Ken repeatedly tells me that I repeat myself, so I know the struggle is real.

With so many books in the world, I often wonder how a particular one ends up in my hand.

I take recommendations seriously — I like a nice cover design, and font size matters to me. I’ll also look to see if the book won a prize. I like The Man Booker, Canada Reads, or The Giller winners, more than Pulitzer prize winners.

The Essex Serpent had a cool cover, good size font, was recommended, still it will be the first book in the DNF category of 2019.

I’m happy to push my limits with a story, yet apparently, I have limits.

So, I see a post about a puppy on Bowen Island, that is ready for “guardianship”.

I wonder… what the heck does guardianship mean when dealing with dogs. I think maybe a part time doggy or… I don’t know, so I PM the lady to find out more.

A short time later, Marian calls me to give me the buzz…. She says, “Have we got a deal for you!” There is a 8 week old “woodoole” — yup, a woodoole… a mix of a wheaten terrier and of course some sort of doodled, looking for a home.

The deal with guardianship is, the dog, … normally $2500. (cough, cough) is FREE!

The catch is, you agree to let the dog have three litters of puppies, for the breeder, over the next six years.

I said, I would talk to Ken, as I am a bit impulsive.

Two minutes after talking to Marian, I had named the puppy Vera, and imagined her sleeping under my feet while I sewed, eating my shoes, and romping at the dog park.

Ken is and always has been, the voice of reason.

His hard no wasn’t immediate. He reminded me, that there are enough dogs in the world — that we’d want to spay any dog we got. And… we’ve talked about it — a puppy, no.

Dang it. Of course he is right — I totally agree with him.

Wednesday, a mere seven months after Boze died, Ken found a green plastic poop bag, in the pocket of a coat, he hasn’t worn for a while. I know he didn’t say no for any other reason, than he is caring and wise.

Plus, while I agree wholeheartedly… I get to say, Ken said no.

Ahhhh… Vera… the path not taken.

Don’t tell me, there’s nothing to do….

When we first moved here, we signed up to receive a weekly email, announcing all the events, gatherings, and things to do, and see here on the coast.

We are quite the homebodies, but this week a couple of events caught our attention…

The first was the invitation to “Relax and dive deep into the soothing sounds of the didjeridu and quartz crystal singing bowls.” with Chris Niebergall and Kym Chi.

Ken wasn’t so keen on this one, so I pointed out that we could join Jack Garton, who “Armed with an accordion and trumpet…

Never mind … Home is good.

Over the holidays my friend, Tamsin was reading The Essex Serpent by Sarah Perry. So, monkey see, monkey do, I went to the library and checked it out. I figure, if my friends like a book, I will too.

I’ve had it for a week now, and have not made much headway. It is hard to follow and I’m not exactly sure what is happening, but I love how the author writes. Perry’s words grab me, often enough to keep me in it!

I marvel at her writing more than the story! Which brings me to wonder… does a good writer, automatically tell a good story?

I’m only 80 pages in and all I know is someone has died, and there is a son. Honestly, I can’t tell you more about this book. The Essex Serpent has been mentioned several times. But, I’m not sure if the serpent is a work of art, or a creature haunting the town. I don’t seem to care though, as the writing is delicious and different.

An example:
“Cora attempted to conquer her scowl. Some bullnecked country curate all Calvin and correction, and his parsimonious wife! She could not, offhand, think of anything worse, and inferred from Martha’s rigidity at her side that her feelings were shared. But still—it would be useful to have some local knowledge of Essex geography. What’s more, it was not necessarily the case that a man of the cloth would be ignorant of modern science: among her favorite books was a thesis from an anonymous Essex rector on the high antiquity of the earth, which crisply dispensed with notions of calculating the date of creation from Old Testament genealogies.”

Now, I just opened the book and randomly picked a paragraph.

When I went to desktop publishing school, one of the main lessons they tried to teach was, no matter what you are creating, be it a poster, or book cover, the customer should not have to struggle to understand it.

But, then I met Marian Bantjes. I saw that it was fun to be challenged to understand some projects. I find I am willing to work for understandings, for the price of a person’s artistry.

Throwing words onto a page is hard. Not all writers, craft an easy story.

I really like how Sarah Perry writes, and even if I can’t follow her in story, I’m not willing to abandon this book. Her words are too scrumptious.