Perfect

I love my new banner. (That's what the photo/name thing at the top of this page is called. A Banner.)
Making them is one of my favorite things about blogging.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Is anyone else doing a 30 Day Challenge? Praying? Reading? Exercising? Dieting? Photography? Writing? Cleaning?

I'm finding the "Pray for the Entire World in a Year" website to be practical and educational. I am going to try and keep this up, even after my 30 day challenge is over. Yesterday I prayed for Morocco. Today it's Mozambique.

And... reading through the Bible in One Year is a good challenge as well. As luck would have it, I've now finished Ecclesiastes and moved on to that book that I've avoided for 12 years: Song of Solomon. Oy. Oh well. It's probably better than Leviticus. But really? All that sex? It's a little hard to take.

The walking 30 minutes per day? YOU'D think this one would be easy, yes? I started strong. But then. Then I got another bladder infection and seriously. The very last thing a person wants to do is walk for 30 minutes. (Yes, by the way, I know. Too many bladder infections this year. BUT what was interesting? On Sunday, when I went to a clinic (after going to 4 that were closed) that had NO cars in the parking lot, so I thought it too was closed, but I checked the front door anyway and there were 2 doctors and 2 nurses behind the counter, "waiting for me, come on in", and when I told them I thought I had a bladder infection, they laughed. "That's all we're doing today. Bladders and ears. Every single patient." So that made me feel better. I'm not so rare. EVERYONE'S got it too.

And then I went to Safeway to get my prescription filled, the pharmacist said, "What's this for? Bladder?" and I nodded.
"GET OUT", she exclaimed. You're my fifth bladder infection in the past 8 minutes. We've been handing out meds all day for bladders. Must be something in the water."

So. It's something in the water.
Good thing I'm moving.)

And that's why I haven't walked for the past few evenings. But I walked tonight. At the beach. As the sun was setting. For an hour. So that kinda makes up for it.

By the way, while I was standing in line at the pharmacy? There was this young mom and her 4 year old daughter. (Daughter had a bladder infection too.) A grandpa-type was waiting with his wife (she too had a bladder infection) watching the little girl twirl in her shiny, frilly, bouncy skirt.
"I have a granddaughter about her age. I bet she'd love a skirt just like that one. It looks like a princess skirt."
The young mom said, "Her grandpa just bought it for her at The Children's Place in the mall - she's worn it every day since he gave it to her. They probably still have them there..."
The grandpa looked over at his wife and suggested they go pick up one for their granddaughter.
"Oh, you're right. She'd love it."

My eyes teared up and I had to look away.
Grandpas.
They are so awesome.

And then I felt sorry for myself.
I loved the way this grandpa and grandma were equally thrilled the idea of spoiling their grandchild. Together they planned to surprise their little girl. I have friends who are now grandparents and they all say how unbelievable awesome it is.

These past 13 years? Whenever I want to brag/talk about/share/bubble over my kids, I call my mom. She loves them as much as I do.

Realistically, who will I share 'grandchild' joy with?

Maybe the sharing isn't the big thing?
Maybe it's enough to hold it into your own heart?
Maybe you don't need to see the love reflected in your husband's eyes as he is captivated by the little additions to the family?

Whatever.
To be safe and to ensure my granddaughter has a twirly skirt too, I went to the mall:

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The other 30 day challenge I was tackling was the PHOTOGRAPHY CHALLENGE.
I spent alot of the weekend sitting (see long explanation above) PLUS there hasn't been a cloud in the sky since September rolled around, so I'm going to be doing the challenge in random order. Yes. You totally are allowed to do that.

So.
THIS IS PHOTO 23, "Sunflare":

Although, I kinda like this one for it's sunflare as well:

Or this one:

(By the way? I'll be redoing the "WHAT I WORE TODAY" one. That was not good photography. That was me being lazy.)


~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

While dealing with that pesky discomfort, I did some reading:

This puppy was 839 pages and the first 100 were killer. Like Hard. I almost gave up.
But I pushed through and then got wrapped up in the story and obsessed; were Melanie and Jared ever going to get together again? What about Ian and Wanda? Would the seekers find the rebels hiding place? WHAT WAS GOING TO HAPPEN?

Sigh.
Those 13 hours will never be returned to me.


I finished this one too:

... which had many more redeeming qualities. David Platt challenges us to consider how we have manipulated the gospel to fit our cultural preferences. And he drops down some challenges... two of which I'm giving a go. (The reading and praying ones.) I would recommend this book to anyone who's ready to squirm. Anyone who thinks maybe they need to realign their fiscal priorities. Anyone who is uncomfortable with the poverty levels in the world today. Anyone who wants their lives to COUNT for SOMETHING besides acquisitions and upgrades.

"Where your treasure is, there your heart is also."


~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I was thinking about this statement the other day, and couldn't remember how it went exactly. I had put it as my facebook status about a year or two ago, and wondered if I could look it up - when OUT OF THE BLUE, there it was! In a fancy format. ON PINTEREST:

I love that.
So much.

And I was thinking...
I'd love to have/host/be apart of a group that meets regularly, like once a month, or every other month, and talks about IDEAS.

I first felt this nudge back at the start of the summer after I'd read a few pages of Half the Sky. I was anxious to talk to Karm about her thoughts, as she was reading it too. And by the time I finished it, I KNEW I needed to talk about it. I am getting (Holy) echoes weekly regarding the oppression and poverty of women in the world. Random books, movies, conversations, Bible verses, facebook events... I tell ya - I'm being bombarded here.

So. Let me know if you want to read this:

... and I'll get you a copy.

Then let's talk.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Three things I'm thankful for:
1. A great Saturday evening with Max and Drew.
2. A lazy Sunday evening with Clint.
3. A long, conversation filled dinner with my dad and mom on Monday.
4. Sunshine all weekend.
5. That I live in a country where I can get meds during the very same hour that I need them.
6. Books. Ideas. Inspiration.
7. Creativity.
8. Brilliant colors.
9. Facebook chats with stranded relatives in different time zones in foreign countries.
10. Iodized salt. (Seriously. Go read that book.) DO YOU KNOW HOW LUCKY WE ARE?

Shalom,

One Year Ago Today I Came Home From England.

Last photo taken on the trip:

Fifty two years ago today my dad and mom got married.

And today. August 22 THIS year?
I finished this book:

It's the memoir of a gal, born in 1955 (so, a few years older than me) in Russia. She lives in the USA now, and took a creative writing course with Frank McCourt (the author of Angela's Ashes) and this book was the result.

I found it fascinating in that she and I are from the same generation but lived in different worlds for the first 25 years of our lives. Communism was brutal. I loved reading the details of her life:

"The rules are simple: they lie to us, we know they're lying, they know we know they're lying, but they keep lying to us, and we keep pretending to believe them." 


She's 24 years old:
"In my entire life, I've eaten at a restaurant only once. I put on the two best pieces of clothing I own: a pair of corduroy Levis a girl from my American class gave me last summer and a jacket of rough suede my sister brought me from her theater tour five years ago. I spit into a container with cracked, dry mascara, which we sometimes also use as shoe polish, and drag a little plastic comb over my eyelashes. The mascara congeals in clumps, and I carefully break them with a sewing needle., separating my eyelashes so that they look as thick and long as those of any American woman."




If you're interested to learn more about the author, Elena, here's a conversation with her.


Also, on August 22, THIS YEAR (ie TODAY) - 


I spent 3 hours at the lake bringing my grand total up to 15 hours spent at the cabin this summer. 


And lastly, today, August 22?


I was spoiled by John and Val who prepared (and then cleaned up) a great BBQ dinner for me. Everyone should have awesome cousins. 


Three things I'm thankful for:
1. On August 6 there were half a dozen boys in my house, preparing, in addition to a mess, a video to be played at Andrew's wedding... 
Video can be viewed here. (Choose to watch it in HIGH QUALITY)
Photos of the day can be viewed here. 

I am thankful for the friends in my sons' lives.


2. I am thankful that I saved all our Adventures in Odyssey CD's. Drew just asked for them tonight. 


3. I am thankful for promises like this one:


"Watch and be astounded at what I will do! For I am doing something in your own day, something you wouldn't believe even if someone told you." Habakkuk 1:5


"Anything is possible if a person believes." Mark 9: 23


Shalom,

Tears, Blood and Glee

She walked into my office sobbing.
"What's the matter?!" I asked alarmed.
"I was writing you a goodbye email and I just started crying. I'm going to miss you..." she said with tears streaming down her face.

"Oh, I know. I wrote out a card for you, here." I handed her a gift bag with a goodbye/goodluck card inside. "I was crying when I wrote it too."

I gave Shannon a hug, left some gluten-free cupcakes for her in the lunch room and walked to my truck. Today was her last day; she's moving back to Ontario after 4 years in BC. She's been a student at SFU and my right hand at work. Everyone was going to bless her as she went on her way, but I had to get to a doctor's appointment that I had made weeks ago.

"I bet this isn't how you thought you'd spend sunny Friday afternoons when you were a med student, eh?" I asked while reclining on THE bench.
He chuckled.
"What this? This is fun. Oh. Here's another one. This might pinch a bit but it's a good one. Hmmm. More here. And here. You're lucky you know. You're not much of a bleeder. All you'll be left with are small holes in your neck."
He steps back and takes a look.
"Very good. Very nice."

He has been using surgical scissors, forceps, a needle with freezing in it, something alcoholic to stop the flow of blood and water-soaked gauze to clean up any mess left behind. In 7 minutes he removed over 30 skin tags from my neck and chest.

The freezing is wearing off and I've got a pin pricky sensation going on in my upper chest region. And he's right. I've got 30 little holes in my skin now. But I heard that's sexy. So. Look out world.

And now? After such an emotional day? (Saying goodbye to Shannon and skin tags...) I'm going to get my Glee on. In 3D. Maureen and I will probably be the oldest folks in the theater. And that is OK.

Three things I'm thankful for:

1. Drew drove me to and from the doctor's, "just in case"...
2. Traceycakes has gluten free cupcakes. Yay.
3. I have 3 sons. And they bring me much joy.

Shalom,

Whoa. Where'd that tiredness come from?

Three things I'm thankful for:

1. Sushi with my boys tonight. I love watching them together.

2. Saw The Help last night with my book club. (I was the only one with no eye make up on when we went out for coffee afterwards.) So if you're sensitive like me, you might tear up. Or, you know, sob. But if you're like the rest of the world's population, you'll just enjoy a good story.

3. Summer. I love summer. So, so much.

(This was "my" spot at Shuswap Lake last weekend. Feet in the water, face in the sun, book in my hand.)


And that's all I've got time for tonight.
I am inexplicably tired.
Shalom,

Sunshine + Good Book = Best Day Ever

Yesterday after work a friend and I took a drive. A five hour drive. To an incredible lakeside retreat on the shores of Shuswap. Courtesy of another friend. 

I have great friends.

It's past midnight and I've been facebook chatting with some other friends. I love facebook. Keeps me in touch with the folks I love. Keeps me in the loop when exciting things happen. 

``````````````````````

You know how I was reading that book about all the sad and bad things that happen to women around the world? Well, I've been taking a short break from it. Cuz it's so heartbreaking, yo? And decided to read a novel and escape the gloom. 

Based on the recommendations of oh, many sources, I chose this one:

"Marion and Shiva Stone are twin brothers born of a secret union between a beautiful Indian nun and a brash British surgeon at a mission hospital in Addis Ababa. Orphaned by their mother’s death in childbirth and their father’s disappearance, bound together by a preternatural connection and a shared fascination with medicine, the twins come of age as Ethiopia hovers on the brink of revolution."

Hahahaha. 

If God wants you to think about something, He's not going to let you run from it. Or hide from it. Or ignore it. 

This novel touched on those exact same issues that "Half the Sky" did, as something that was commonplace in that corner of the world.  This book takes place in India and Ethiopia... exactly where all those women's issues are. (Fistulas. Rape. Arranged marriages. Female circumcision.) 

Aside from that, this was a great book. It's not a story about women's issues, it's way more than that. 

I'm sad I finished reading it. I loved the writing and the story. 

Now I have to find another book to lose myself in for tomorrow's day on a lawn chair in the sun. 

I have absolutely no problem being lazy. I excel at this.

Three things I'm thankful for:

1.Beautiful accomodations. Glorious sunshine. Good conversations. Full moon.

2. Facebook chat. Happy news. 

3. BBQ salmon. Eating on the deck. Overlooking the lake. 

Shalom,

Still Sexy

Just in case you were wondering - I am feeling WAY better. My hacking cough is almost gone; all that's left is a deep raspy voice, that is too sexy for this body.

The reason I haven't been blogging is because it's SUMMER and I've unexpectedly been having too much fun. Movies, dinners, walks, boating, spontaneous tea n talks, a wedding, cheesecake, photography nights ... the list goes on.

I thought I'd upload a ton of pics tonight, so that I could, like, share the joy. But instead? I learned how to do something. Something computerish. Something creative. Something I was nervous about. I made a movie using photos and my recorded voice. Oy vey. But still. I learned something. And I'm 50! How many more times is something like this likely to happen?

So maybe I'll post pics on another day. Not tomorrow. I'll be 'doing' blueberries. (Whatever that means.) (AGAIN! With the 'new' things!) And after that, packing. Know why? I'm going to Shuswap again. AGAIN. Remember at the start of the summer when I was all whiney and pathetic? I barely do. But I seem to recall thinking this was going to be the worst summer ever. And hahahaha. I was wrong.

Three things I'm thankful for:
1. It's Drew's birthday today! He's had a fabulous day, celebrating with his girl and her family. They've taken him camping for a week, and rented a seadoo for him to play on. Sigh. No. I'm happy for him. I really am.

2. Generous friends. Friends with boats who invite me for overnight trips. Friends with cabins who just hand me the keys. Friends who call to say they're praying for me and my boys. Friends who speak truth into my life. Friends with big hearts and warm hugs.

3. My dad and mom. Always happy to see me. Always happy to listen. Always available to help.

I am blessed.

Shalom,

Art Show

As you will recall, my boy is part of a team that is raising money and awareness for the Dalits in India. They organized an art show on Friday night and I went. Of course I did. He's my son, right? That's what moms do. Some of my friends were there too. Because that's what friends do.

I had my camera in my purse, you know, so I could take pics for my blog. No other reason.

But once I actually got there, I was too intimidated. Seriously.
So many people. Most under 30. Many with cameras. (These pics are from the event's facebook page.)

So I took a quick peak. Bid on a few pieces. Then gave Clint some blank cheques and told him what my highest bids would be.

I really wanted this.
It's a skimboard.
When Clint was in grade 12, I couldn't handle him. Not for one minute more. My house was a battle zone and I needed to reload. So my mom and dad took him for 10 days. It gave me some breathing room and gave his brothers a stress-free environment to live in for awhile.

The idea was for Clint to be so bored at his grandparent's place that he'd be dying to come home, under any terms I might offer.
My dad didn't get that memo.
He thought it was playtime with his oldest grandson.

Dad and Clint made skimboards.
About 8 of them; out of oak skins and leftover arborite.
Then they went to the beach and tried them out.

For Clint it was the start of a mini-business... he must've sold a couple dozen boards that year. And it became an 'outdoor activity' that took him away from computer gaming.

I guess my dad knew a thing or two about teenaged boys.

And this is why I told Clint to bid on the skimboard.
Because I had memories.

Unfortunately I was outbid.
But I'm happy that my bids drove the price upwards.
:)

If you're interested in pics of other pieces that were donated for the cause, check out this link.

AFTER we left the show, we decided to be tourists in Vancouver and walk around Granville Island as the sun set. Because there's nothing as beautiful as our city at dusk.


Three things I'm thankful for:

1. Friends who come to art shows and photowalks.

2. Sons who are passionate about making a difference in the world.

3. Watching God at work. LOVE His divine meddling.

4. The sun was out today and it really felt like summer. Yay for seasonally appropriate weather.

5. I am thankful for a certain twenty six year old guy who spent the day with my youngest. He took him to the drifting competition in Seattle this afternoon, and now? At 1 am? They are playing racing games on XBox in my family room.

Shalom,

Two Obsessions

I can see how this summer is shaping up. It will go down in history, or at least in MY history, as the summer I discovered pinterest.com and had my eyes opened to the plight of oppressed women around the world.

Or as one of my children would say, I'm straddling first and third world problems.

Is this not a great idea for a cabin? I would add curtains for each cubby, so that there is a degree of privacy in there. You know, for people over 40 who sleep with their mouths open and their nighties bunched up.

From: Half the Sky -
Female infanticide persists in many countries and it is often the mothers who kill their own daughters. They do so, because often husbands threaten to divorce them if they keep their girls. Shahnaz poisoned her newborn daughter to avoid being divorced by her husband. Pervenn killed her daughter after her father-in-law beat her for giving birth to a girl.

And wife beatings? Happen because husbands are illiterate and uneducated. Zoya Najabi from Afghanistan was married at age 12 to a 16 year old boy. "Not only my husband, but his brother, his mother, and his sister all beat me." They would punish her for being a bad housewife by tying her to a bucket and dunking her in the well, leaving her freezing, gasping and half drowned. When she talked back to her mother-in-law, her husband dug out an electrical cable and flogged her until she fell unconscious. Then the next day, her father-in-law strapped her feet together, tied her down, and gave a stick to Zoya's mother-in-law who whipped the soles of Zoya's feet. "My feet were beaten until they were like yoghurt."

From pinterest:
Isn't this cool? It's a clear toaster. You can watch your bread toasting, and pop it up when it's exactly the right color -

From Half the Sky:

Du'a was a beautiful Kurdish girl living in Northern Iraq. She was 17 years old when she fell in love with a Sunni Arab boy. One night she stayed out with him. No one knows if they actually slept together, but her family assumed that they had. Her family and religious leaders determined that she must die. So eight men stormed the house and dragged her out into the street and a large crowd gathered round her. She was thrown to the ground, her skirt ripped off to humiliate her. The men threw rocks and concrete blocks on her - it took 30 minutes for Du'a to die.

They estimate that 6,000 honor killings like these take place every year. And many, many more honor rapes.

Mass rape is as effective as slaughtering people, yet it doesn't leave corpses that lead to human rights prosecutions. Rape tends to undermine the victim groups' tribal structures, because leaders lose authority when they can't protect the women. In short, rape becomes a tool of war in conservative societies precisely because female sexuality is so sacred.

A United Nations report states that 90% of all women over the age of 3 were sexually abused in Liberian during the civil war there.


Pinterest:
Doesn't this look inviting?
LOVE it.

From Half the Sky:

The world capital of rape is eastern Congo. (The UN undersecretary says "The sexual violence in Congo is the worst in the world.")  Militias consider it risky to engage in firefights with other gunmen, so instead they assault civilians. They discovered the most cost-effective way to terrorize civilian populations is to conduct rapes of stunning brutality. They rape women with sticks and knives and bayonets and fire their guns into women's vaginas.
"All militias here rape women to show their strength and to show your weakness," said Juliene, a rape counselor in Goma, Congo. "In other places, there is rape because a soldier wants a woman. Here, it's that, but also a viciousness, a mentality of hatred, and women pay the price. Most victims are girls - some as young as 6, most are 14 years and older."

In 2008, the United Nations formally declared rape a "weapon of war."

Seventeen year old Dina grew up working on her parent's farm. All the local residents knew that there were soldiers from the Hutu Militia in the area, so Dina was fearful whenever she went out to farm the crops. But the alternative was to starve. One day, because of the danger, Dina cut her work short in her bean field and headed back to town well before sunset. As she was walking home, five militia members surrounded her. They had guns and knives and forced her to the ground.

"If you cry out, we will kill you," she was told. All five men raped her. Then they held her down as one then shoved a stick inside of her. Her family found her later, but couldn't afford to take her to the clinic. The stick had broken into her bladder and rectum, causing a fistula, or hole, in the tissues. As a result, urine and feces trickled constantly down her legs. These injuries are common because of sexual violence.


Pinterest.
Ruffled incing on a wedding cake:
Is there anything more feminine?

From Half the Sky:

For Dina, lying incontinent and paralyzed at home, life seemed to be over. Then neighbours began telling her about a hospital where doctors would fix injuries just like hers. Eventually, due to assistance from HEAL Africa, she was taken to the hospital. Nurses gave her a plastic diaper and put her together with dozens of other women all who were incontinent because of fistulas. This gave Dina the courage to try to stand and walk. The nurses gave her crutches and helped her hobble about. They fed her and began a course of physical therapy and added her name to the list of women waiting for fistula surgery. When Dina's day came, a doctor successfully sewed up the hole in her bladder. Later, she had a second surgery to repair the hole in her rectum...

She returned home again, knowing there was a very good chance she'd be raped again.


Pinterest.

I kinda like this cake too...

Half the Sky -

There are three million women and girl incontinent, just like Dina. Outside of the Congo, the cause is not rape but by obstructed labor and lack of medical care during childbirth.

Mahabouba grew up in western Ethiopia. Her parents divorced when she was a child so she was handed over to her father's sister who treated her as a servant. She ran away and worked as a maid in exchange for room and board. "A neighbour told me he could find better work for me, then sold me for 10 dollars. I thought I was going to work for this man, instead he raped me and beat me." She was 13 years old. The man was 60 years old and had purchased Mahabouba as his second wife. Both husband and wife beat her til she was black, blue and bloody. When she was 7 months pregnant she ran away. "I thought if I stayed I would be beaten to death along with my baby."

"I ran to town, but the townspeople said they would return me to my husband. So I ran away to my native village. But my immediate family was no longer there and nobody else wanted to help me because I was pregnant and somebody's wife. So I went to drown myself in the river, but my uncle found me and took me back."

Mahabouba went into labor but her pelvis hadn't yet grown enough to accommodate  the baby's head. She ended up with an obstructed labor with the baby stuck inside the birth passage. After 7 days, Mahabouba fell unconscious and at the point someone summoned a birth attendant. By then the baby had been wedged there for so long that the tissues between the baby's head and Mabaouba's pelvis lost circulation and rotted away. When she recovered consciousness, she found her baby was dead and that she had no control of her bladder or bowels. She also couldn't walk or even stand, a consequence of nerve damage that is a frequent by-product of fistulas.

"People said it was a curse," Mahabouba recalled. "They said, 'If you're cursed, you shouldn't be here. You should leave." Her uncle moved her to a hut at the edge of the village and allowed the villagers to take the door off so that the hyenas could get her. At night the hyenas circled her, all night long she fended them off, yelling and waving a stick.

Pinterest:
Not sure I'm a fan of the brown piping. I woulda done it in white. White on white.
Yes, that would have looked awesome. I just know it.

Mahabouba realized her only hope was to get out of the village, so she crawled to the doorstep of a missionary, pulling herself with her arms. It took two days to get there. The missionary took her inside, nursed her, then took her to the Addis Ababa Fistula Hospital.

There Mahabouba found scored of other girls and women also suffering from fistulas. She was examined, bathed, given new clothes and shown how to wash herself. Fistula patients often suffer wounds on their legs, from the acid in their urine eating away at the skin, but frequent washing eliminates these sores. The girls in the hospital wear flip-flops, chattering with one another and steadily dripping urine - hospital staff joke that it is 'puddle city' but the floors are mopped several times per hour and the girls are too busy socializing to be embarrassed.

Catherine, the Australian doctor who founded the hospital, has done over 25,000 operations. (It costs about $300 to repair a fistula.) There are estimates that 30,000 to 130,000 new cases of fistula develop each year in Africa alone. The fistula patient is the modern day leper. She's helpless. She's voiceless. She smells. She is an outcast.

Oprah interviewed Catherine and later visited the hospital. She then donated a new wing for it.

Today, if you were to visit the Addis Ababa Fistula Hospital, you might well see Mahabouba. She's the one walking around in a nurse's uniform.

Pinterst:
Ha. Great use for those bread bag closure tags:

Oy. This reminds me of, well, me.
I used to do this with the kids.
I rocked at being a mom to pre-teens.

Three things I'm thankful for:

1. The sun was out for a few hours. I sat in it for 35 minutes. It was glorious.
2. I was invited to join a friend and her daughter watch a movie this evening. We saw the latest Pirates.

Yeah. I totally enjoyed watching Johnny Depp frolic for 2 hours.

3. Afterwards, I drove into Vancouver to drop off coolers for Clint. He needed them for Friday night's event... Are you coming? To the Art Show?
All money raised is going towards building schools in India for the most needy - the lowest caste, The Dalits.

Please join us if you can.
We live lives of privilege here. Seriously.
Find a cause you believe in and support it heavily.
Women and children around the world are crying for our help.

Shalom,

And I'm Done

My two week vacation is over. Back to work on Monday. If you were keeping track with me, I enjoyed 2 whole days of glorious life-giving sunshine in the past 16 days.

However, I have not let the lack of blue skies stop me from celebrating summer. Oh no I haven't. On Thursday, Heather and I, along with Drew and Dani, left Langley at the crack of dawn for a full day and long evening of shopping in a very soggy Seattle.  We arrived at the Outlet Mall at 10:30 am and by 1 pm we were all out of money. We had bought what we came for, and with no reason to stay, we left. After lunch we simply headed home. Actually, I could hardly wait to get home...

... Because I now have three bras. I've never had three bras at the same time that all fit me. I  have options, people. Color options. (Yes; black, white and beige are colors. Boring hues, to be sure, but still. There is variety in my undergarments now.) This is a big deal. Literally. And seriously. First thing I did when we got home was throw the old one in the garbage and put on the black one. Regardless of it's overwhelming size, black is still sexy, no matter how much fabric is involved.

With my whole evening now freed up, I called my oldest to see if he had time for dinner. He did. So I drove 45 minutes to meet him, waited 15 minutes for him to arrive, then got us a table and ordered his meal so it'd be ready when he arrived. Which he did at 7:02 pm. We had a nice visit and an enjoyable meal, when at 7:14 pm his phone beeped. "Oh. Dallas is waiting outside. He came to pick me up. Gotta go. Thanks for supper. Love you." And he was gone. I finished eating, paid the bill, and drove back home, arriving shortly after 8. Almost 3 hours on the road for a 12 minute visit. Totally worth it.

At 9:00 pm, I met a friend for tea and talk. We met on the phone. We both put on a pot of tea, in our respective kitchens, sat in comfortable chairs, and visited for two and a half hours. So fun.

Then at midnight, I facebook chatted with Clint for an hour. Because really? 12 minutes wasn't enough. I had questions. "How is this coming along?" What happened then?" "Who was that?" "How come?"

He asked that I spread the word about this upcoming event:

To view larger, click on image.

His friend, Steve Cross, is one of 40 artists that has donated hand painted pieces to be sold.
And his friend, Jacqueline Bartel will be there with her band, providing entertainment.
Good Society Denim will be there donating $ for each pair of jeans they sell.

If you're free on Friday night, why not stop by?
It's at the Beaumont Studios in the Olympic Village in Vancouver.
End of commercial.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A few hours after our facebook chat ended it was time to get up again.
Maureen and I had plans; we were going to be tourists in Vancouver.
First stop: The Vancouver Art Gallery for the Surreal exhibition. Meh.
(However, the Walking and Falling exhibit on the top floor was fascinating. Honest.)

(On our way into Vancouver, Maureen was mentioning an article she had recently read in the paper about the Hotel Georgia's restoration project. Apparently over $100,000,000 had been spent... She remembers her mom talking about the ballroom and celebrities, so she wondered if we could take a peak at the lobby if we happened across the hotel.)

Serendipity.
Or Divine Intervention.

The Hotel Georgia is right across the street from the Art Gallery.
So we walked over.

Again... Wild coincidence.
We were there on Opening Day and THEY WERE GIVING TOURS.
And the next one started in 8 minutes.

Fascinating. Above is the Ballroom. See all that fancy stuff on the walls above the doors? Was discovered after they removed layers of paneling. On the top left? They had no idea there was that minstrel's gallery was up there... it had been closed in years before.

More info about the renovations are here, in this article. (Those opaque glass panels on the bottom of the pool? Allow people, 4 stories below in the car entrance, to look up and see shadow movement.)

The rooms were doubled in size (meaning they went from having 320 rooms to 155 rooms.) And they were gorgeous. If you were to sit on the couch (above), or even just look straight ahead from the bed, you'd see this:

... a flat screen high def TV with cable/satellite. This is also a computer monitor. They supply you with a cordless keyboard and free internet connection, so you can read blogs and play facebook scrabble on a huge screen. From bed. Uh huh. How fun.

Or, if updating your status is not your idea of hotel fun, you can take a bath.
In this:

Seriously.

Double glass doors to the bathroom:

I totes love it.
(Totes = totally)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

We were ready for a cuppa tea by then, so we wandered along Robson. Found a good people watching spot, ordered our beverages, shared a turkey panini on cranberry bread and planned our next move. There was a HMV across the street calling for me to pick up the music that would be my Summer Soundtrack of 2011. On sale: $10 each - Mumford and Sons, and Florence and the Machine.

We, like the intelligent women we are, stopped at the Tourism booth and chatted with the nice ladies about our next stop. They gave us a map, pointed and we were off...

To the waterfront.
Our plan was to walk around the NEW seawall, along Coal Harbour. We were going to walk from the new convention centre to Stanley Park. (See, in the photo above, the white sails in the middle of the pic at the very back? That's where we started. That grass roofed building on the right? Is the new convention centre. Six acres of lawn on the roof.)

Sandra met us at the waterfront station and walked with us, touching everything in sight:

We smelled the roses,

commented on the colours,

sat fer a spell on the benches,

took a few pics,

and commented on how few tourists there were in town during this, the peak tourist season. We felt like we had the city to ourselves:

We ended our stay-cation having dinner on Commercial Drive on the roof top patio at Falconetti's East Side Grill, "the best vibe on the drive". "The Drive's Socially Creative Hang Spot." We were the oldest patrons, sharing eating space with many goodlooking young men who shared meals and table space with other goodlooking young men. It was all so fascinating. It felt like we were in a tree house.

Just as we were finishing dinner, the rain started.
The end.




Three things I'm thankful for:

1. Perfect sighseeing weather. No, really. Seriously IDEAL.
2. Awesome, lovely, wonderful Vancouver.
3. Friends who had time off these past two weeks who could share my holiday time with me.


Shalom,