Friday, May 18, 2018

Grape Crush

It's my dad's birthday today.
So I bought a case of Grape Crush.
I'll remember him with a can of his fav flavor pop this weekend.

I'm at the lake this week.
Mostly hiding.
But also doing things.
Like, working.
It is so fun working in shorts and a tank top.
I love being comfortable.
Haha. My real office is stinkin hot. Like blistering.
Sitting at my desk is like being inside a wall of heat.

But here?
With the windows open and a fan blowing?
I'm in heaven.

Why am I at the top of the stairs?

Tucked in beside the bunk beds, you ask?

Well, because I've got a painter working on the main floor.
She's covering up all the green walls. (And it looks glorious!)
So all the furniture is piled up in the middle of the main floor, and she's making everything bright and beautiful.

While she's here, I stay upstairs and work.
And after she's left, I move to the deck:

Which? Is my absolute best work environment EVER.

(I'll post before and after pics of the painting later this weekend. WHAT A DIFFERENCE IT MAKES WHEN THE DARK GREEN IS GONE.)

I've also hired a tile guy. Who's gonna give us a tile backsplash in the kitchen. Goodbye green paint.
I can hardly wait til it's done.
Like for serious.
The kitchen doesn't get any natural light, and with the dark green paint, black appliances and wood cabinetry, it's a bit of a black hole.


Last Thursday (May 10) Val and I went to the Eagles Concert at Roger's Arena.
Oh. My. Goodness.
They really put on an incredible show.
Three hours of Eagle's music. Take It Easy. Take It To The Limit. Hotel California. Desperato...
Vince Gill.
Deaton Frey.
Oy. Such a perfect evening...

Just as we got back to my mom's place, Val's phone rang. It was John, calling to see how our evening had been. He was happy that Val'd had a good time, and was thrilled/surprised to hear that she'd danced. (Well, that might be stretching it. She moved. Rhythmically. A little bit.) Haha. "You mean my Vally wiggled?" he asked, somewhat astounded.

Then Val asked him how his dad was (John's dad had had a stroke a few days previous.)
"He died earlier this evening."

It's not like it was unexpected. He knew. His wife knew. His kids knew. His grandkids knew.
But still.

Val had been thinking of cancelling our evening together, but her kids and John all encouraged her to go. So she was with me with their blessing.

Can I say something?
Looking back I saw what a gift it was from John to Val, for him not to call until he figured the concert would be over.
And secondly? He asked about her evening; being excited and happy for her experience before sharing his news.

It's little things like this that are the reason why some marriages last a lifetime, no?

John's dad's funeral was on Thursday (May 17).

(This is my third funeral in 5 weeks.)
I am becoming more and more like my dad.
I kinda like funerals. I love hearing the stories.

And this service? Was one of the best.
From the opening introduction (Jesse, Fred's grandson, was the capable, entertaining, respectful, confident, Pastor/MC) to all the shared reflections (two nieces and three sons) to the hymns (How Great Thou Art and It Is Well With My Soul) to the full lunch, sitting around decorated tables afterwards - it was perfect.

Gottfried (Fred) was 94 when he died. His first wife, Margaret died suddenly after 30 years of marriage. He married again a few years later and passed away on his 32 wedding anniversary to Ellie. Crazy eh? Haha. I couldn't manage to stay married for more than 15 years, and this guy has two very successful marriages.

Not that I'll ever be able to celebrate a 30th wedding anniversary, but inspiring never-the-less.

As per usual, I wonder what my kids will say at my funeral. Because in the end, their version of my life is the one that goes down in history. They're the ones who tell the stories. Which is gonna be interesting ...


A couple years ago I had a thingy next to my tear duct removed which required the steady hand of a plastic surgeon. I had thought I'd be back at work the next day, but my face was a mess for a week afterwards, so I worked from home instead of subjecting my coworkers to the bandages and black eye and dried blood and seeping stitches.

The day after the Eagles Concert (Fri May 11), I had made arrangements to have another procedure done. I am used to the divots on my face left from years of acne. And there's not much to be done about wrinkles. They're a fact of life and I have peace about them. But it's the bumps and lumps I'm having an issue with. Random ones. For no good reason. About a dozen of them.

So, on the recommendation of a friend who's done this twice already over the years, I went to an Indian woman who has a laser wand in her garage and I paid her to burn my face. While she was at it, we decided to go for the ones on my neck too. And my chest. And my underboob. (Oops. Too much information?) Haha.

In the end, I had over 300 laser burn spots on my face and torso. It took 4 hours. And the numbing cream? Worked like a charm on everything under my chin. And didn't numb a thing above my chin. SO. Yes. It hurt. Like someone was holding a red hot fire poker to my face.

NO way I was going to subject anyone to the absolute mess that was/is taking place on my body.
Scabs. And swollen red spots. At first they felt like bee stings.
And then a few days later they got itchy.

I wasn't allowed to wash for 72 hours; I was to keep everything soaked in coconut oil. And some special Indian potion that is 1000 times stronger than polysprorin and smelt a little funky.

I will not be posting before and after pictures. Because as of today, I am still not convinced I didn't make a horrible, terrible mistake.


I guess that's what this boils down to.

How embarrassing.

Also, in case you're wondering.
My teeth.

I still have the temporary caps in.
Because, despite THREE separate visits to the lab (in a middle-eastern family's garage) and three separate attempts at getting a good colour match - its a bit of a disaster.

So, one month later (this was supposed to be a 10 day project) I still have fake front teeth that are trying their best to be workable even though we're about two weeks past their expiration date.

May has not gone as expected.

How're things with you?


Three things I'm thankful for:

1. The ability to work remotely (when necessary). In shorts and tshirt and flip flops. It is an Absolute Joy.

2. Competent sub-trades. I highly recommend First Impressions Interior Painting. She is a marvel with a brush and roller. This cabin had a million tricky spots where 'cutting in' was a fulltime job. She did it, FREEHAND with no taping. And it's been done PERFECTLY. I am in absolute awe.
And this tiler? Responded to my email within a hour. Came out the next night to measure up. And is here, now, 2 days later, getting er done.

3. I'm HOPING to be thankful for Indian women who work out of their garages with hot pointy sticks and Middle Eastern families who make teeth in their garages... Haha. Fingers crossed.

4. Super thankful for this past week. From the Eagles concert with Val to Mother's Day with Clint to the funeral to the long weekend and everything inbetween. Grateful for this life I get to live.

5. Thankful for the internet. Music, podcasts, sermons, TEDTalks... It's been a rich week.

6. Thankful for Cadbury's new rice crispy filled chocolate bar.

7. Thankful for my dad. Thinking of him today, on his birthday. And how he was the only person who never saw the imperfections on my face. His love, coupled with aging eyesight, made him think I was beautiful. That's what dads are supposed to be like, right?

(I've just read a memoir written by a gal who was raped almost daily by her dad from the time she was 8 until she was 18, when she shot him. She was charged with murder and sentenced to life without parole. When she turned 36, she was released from prison because someone, finally, took on her case and wouldn't let it go until justice was served. She was the third generation of women in her family who'd been sexually abused by their dads. Gahhhh.)

So yes, today I am thankful that my dad loved me. And I'm grateful that he's in heaven with a body and mind that are 100%. He's probably laughing.  If there are any kids up there, I wonder if he's entertaining them by doing that trick with his dentures where he pushes them out between his lips and sucks them back in real quick. (Or do you get good teeth in heaven? Straight, white, no cavities? No receding gum lines?   Twould be very cool.)

What was I saying?

Oh yeah. My dad.

Happy birthday, ol man.

Shalom, friends.

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