Last year on this day we were driving back to BC. Dale was in front with the SUV and the U-Haul trailer, I was following behind in my little red Bug. It was a joyful trip. Dale was heading to a dream job and I was heading home. Dale liked Alberta; as NASCAR loving, country music listening, good ol’ boy he felt at home there. However, I never did. Sure we met a lot of great people and had some wonderful times but I just never felt like I belonged. I am not conservative, politically or otherwise, and Alberta is very conservative. However, my stay there must have affected the collective, after all, they now have an NDP government! The closer we got to BC, the happier I got. A big part of that was we were going to be living in the Lower Mainland. We always dreamed about retiring here, and we dreamed big. A condo on or near Granville Island was what we thought would be heaven. Of course, we would have to win the lottery to make that happen, but we could always dream, right? So, the dream wasn’t quite coming true, but a townhouse just a short walk from historic downtown Poco is a good substitute. I still have a modicum of the walking lifestyle we sampled when we rented that very small apartment in the West End when we first came back last year.

I bring this up because Facebook reminded me of the event, which we captured digitally (I wanted to say “on film” because we took a picture but that isn’t accurate any more). I saw it when I checked my iPad this morning. It’s been a very slow morning because last night was the opening night of our Surrey Little Theatre production of  “Funny Little Thing Called Love”. It was also the Canadian premiere of this play, and one of the playwrights called the theatre and left a message for us. Apparently they have been following the theatre on social media. It was a surreal moment, listening to the playwright’s soft Georgian drawl. I had been reading my script, going over my lines, with my own version of an American southern accent. Her message was short but sweet and it motivated us to give the show our all, which we did. It was a great night! We had a responsive audience and we fed on that. When it was over and we were in the dressing room taking off our costumes, a newbie to the theatre commented that being on stage could be addictive. Yup, it can. There’s a rush of adrenaline when you first walk out on the stage and a feeling of power when you make the audience laugh, or cry. I can’t imagine my life without the theatre.

Today has been a rather slow day. It always is after a show, especially after opening night. I can’t sleep when I get home, I’m too wound up. I need some time to replay the show, to relish the things that went well and to think of how to fix the things that didn’t. I sit for a while, then I go to the bathtub and wash the show off. After that I sit for a while more. Now that Facebook is a thing, I check it to see what other people from the show are saying. Last night it was around 2:00 am when I finally closed my eyes. I’ve had breakfast but it’s after 11:00 and I’m still not dressed. Thankfully I can have a lazy day; many of the people in the show had to go to work today. In a while I’ll head upstairs and shower. Then I’ll fritter away the day until about 4:00, when I’ll put on my make-up and start gearing up. We have to be at the theatre by 6:30 but I’ll be there before that; part of my delightful OCD personality, I can’t bear to be late so I am invariably early.

I am happy to be back in BC. I am happy to be part of a wonderful community theatre family again. I am happy that I don’t have the pressures and stresses of a job to complicate my life; been there, done that, don’t want to do it again. I am a lucky woman. Believe me, I know that, and I celebrate it every day!

It’s been a busy couple of weeks coming off the holidays. I’ve had rehearsals for the show and Dale has been settling into his new position. Last Friday night we stayed in and had pub-style treats – nachos, salt and pepper chicken wings and Corona beers. This Friday we decided to go out.

Our neighbourhood is great for walking to dinner. Within just a couple of blocks we have many options – pizza, Greek, sushi, Mongolian stir fry,Thai and so on. We decided to head to Earl’s as Dale had a couple of gift cards for there so it made sense. We walked through downtown Poco along Shaughnessy, under the overpass, chatting and catching up. Dale usually calls me during the day but the last few days had been so busy for him the only call I got was saying he was on his way home. Two of the nights I was gone before he got home and he was in bed when I got home. So the walk was a welcome chance to talk to each other.

Now, one would think that an Earl’s tucked away in Poco would be too busy, and one would be wrong. We could barely get in the door. Dale eased his way to the front and discovered that we would have to wait upwards of 40 minutes to get a table.  I guess with the patio area closed, the seating capacity was smaller than we thought. It was still early so we headed back towards downtown and Samz Neighbourhood Pub. We have had many dinners at Samz. It can be very busy on a Friday night, especially during the hockey season, but we were able to quickly get a table. Dale ordered his favourite Friday night drink, a Caesar, and I had one of my favourite anytime drinks, a Long Island Iced Tea. As we were walking, both were doubles. Our meal was great and we were ready to go just as the pub started to get noisy.

We walked back home past city hall and for the first time I noticed the illuminated sign on the building. I guess it had been obscured by the leaves on the trees every other time I had walked, or driven, by. Or it could be new, either way, it was nice to see. We turned up Wilson and Dale got a chance to see the remains of the old health centre that had been recently demolished. This time of year is a good time to do that kind of work, at least from a resident’s point of view. Most of our windows are closed and the wet weather has kept the dust down. They did start work rather early in the morning for me (around 8:00) but the only time I really heard anything was when they pulled down the walls. Then I heard it and felt it as the big machine tugged at the walls until they fell. There was a sign up, and we thought perhaps it was going to tell us what would be going up in its place. However, it was just a sign saying demolition was taking place and the adjacent parking lot would be closed. One of our neighbours spoke to head gardener of the city and he said he wanted to turn the area into another downtown garden. I hope he gets his way.

From there we headed for home, up the pedestrian walkway. As we rounded the first curve, I pulled on Dale’s arm. Coming towards us were two coyotes. They saw us and melted into the gardens. We stood still for a bit, trying to see them, a little concerned as they had separated and we now had a coyote on either side of us. But nothing happened so we continued on, then cut across the grass to our building. We stood on the fenced path in front of our building and soon we saw one of the coyotes. It headed towards the downtown area. We tried to think of where they would be going, probably across parking lots behind buildings to the railroad tracks and finally down to the river. From there they would be in wooded coverage for miles and miles.

It was a little disconcerting to see them out at that time of night. The pedestrian walkway is used by a lot of people who walk their dogs. I wonder if the coyotes would have been bold enough to attack a little dog being walked by an elderly person. There are several retirement-style apartment buildings along the walkway and I’ve seen people out walking their dogs at all hours of the night and day. The BCSPCA website says that coyotes rarely attack animals on leash but will sometimes pursue small, unsecured pets. They will eat almost anything, including pet food and food garbage. More research on other sites revealed they can be active in the hours before sunrise and after sunset, as well as at night. Coyotes are monogamous and form pair bonds that can last for several years. Breeding season lasts from late December through March, with cubs born in the early spring. Every time I’ve seen coyotes in our area, it’s been two together. And their behaviour tells me they are a breeding pair, as one night I saw their quick coupling. Just a couple of bumps from behind and he was done.  The city of Port Coquitlam says they are often seen in the area and residents need to remove all possible sources of food they might exploit.

I did joke to Dale later that we should get a road runner and an online account to Acme Incorporated. I said I especially wanted the anvil and the rocket car. However, my reasoning was flawed as the cartoon was all about the coyote trying to get the road runner, not the road runner trying to get rid of the coyote. But, wait! Maybe if we got a road runner, the local coyotes would become obsessed with getting it. There is a large grassy park right in front of our building that would be the perfect place to release the road runner. Then it could run around Poco and double back to the park, where the coyotes would have set up some ridiculous things to try and catch it, and we would have front row seats to the hilarity. If we decide to go that way, I’ll video it all with my iPad and send you the YouTube link.

This is the time of the year when people make resolutions. They resolve to lose weight, to read more, to train for a marathon, to smile more, to curb their road rage, and so on and so on. I’ve made my share of New Year’s resolutions and I’ve not followed through on a single one. Why is it that we feel that we need a new start when a new year rolls around? Tradition I guess, just like we put up the tree and eat turkey.

Well, this year I’m not making any resolutions. However, I can tell you what I’m not going to do this year.

I’m not going to beat myself up because I don’t have the body or face or hair that magazines tell me I should have. I will continue to look after me, to keep up on the conflicting research that comes out. Coffees good, no coffees bad. Exercise at least 30 minutes three times a week, no 10 minutes a day is better. I try to look after myself. I haven’t had a pop in months. I use butter instead of margarine. I wash my hair every other day and only get the roots coloured. I apply sunscreen daily. I take calcium and vitamin D. Other than my osteoarthritic knee, I have no health issues. This is me right now, and I’m perfectly okay with that.

In that same vein of not letting others tell me what I should or shouldn’t do, or what I should or shouldn’t be, I’m not going to put my judgements and values on others. I don’t know their stories. I do know that what has happened to me in my life has lead me to the place I am now, to the person I am now and I value that. This is my life path; your life path may be different and that’s okay. Just don’t hurt me or others, that’s not okay.

I’m not going to let big issues over which I have no control negatively influence my life. I voted in the last election, so I did my part. I can’t control what the Americans do with their gun laws. I can’t stop the next earthquake from coming. I can’t make the traffic move faster. But I can stop watching the news reports about the latest mass shooting in South Carolina or California, I can prepare some supplies in case the big one hits us and I can sit quietly and listen to Broadway show tunes when the traffic slows to a crawl. I can only control how I react to the big things around me. I can let those big things make me afraid or angry or stressed; or not. My choice. And I choose not.

I’m not going to see the bad things first. We all know that person, the one who hears something and immediately puts a negative spin on it. I learned a while ago that you see what you look for. Look for bad and you’ll find it. I prefer to look for the good.  Will that stop bad things from happening? No. But again, I can’t control the bad things that happen in life, I can only control how I react to them. I know I will cry for the bad things that happen in life. I know my heart will ache for those who experience them. But I also know that when the sun shines I will let it warm my body. I will smell the flowers that line the walkway. I will look forward to that next visit with my friends. A very wise woman once told me “This too will pass.” So enjoy the good times and make them last.  And know that the bad times won’t last and take comfort in that.

I’m not going to stay still. I’m going to move forward, physically, emotionally, mentally, spiritually – in every way possible. A pond that has no fresh water coming in becomes stagnant. The life there slowly dies. I don’t want to become stagnant so I’m going to stretch my limits. I’m going to keep moving. I’m going to let fresh, new things into my life. I want to continue acting but I might venture into directing. Seeing the whole picture instead of just my part interests me now. I’m going to keep writing but I might start painting too. I’m not sure what I’ll paint, but abstracts intrigue me. If something feeds me in some way, if it interests me, I’ll pursue it. It might just lead me to something wonderful and if it doesn’t, well at least I learned from it, and that’s so much better than doing nothing.

Big thoughts on a chilly Sunday afternoon. The tea I made I while ago is cooling in the pot. I should go and enjoy it before it’s too late. Those of you paying attention will know that’s another thing I’m not going to do.

We have coyotes.  Well, not us personally, but our neighbourhood does.  The first time I heard them was this summer.  I woke up to the sound of their howling and my first thought was that one of the homeless people camping in the trees of the nearby garden was hurting a pet.  It soon stopped so I went back to sleep.  I mentioned it to Dale in the morning.  He laughed and said that it was probably coyotes.  I didn’t hear them again until last night.  This time I recognized the howling and got quickly out of bed.  I pulled the slats of the blind on the bedroom window open and peered out.  A lone coyote was walking down the pedestrian walkway towards downtown.  He was soon joined by a female coyote coming from the downtown area.  They stopped and poked around in the garden area.  Suddenly they both stopped and looked up towards me.  How did they know I was there?  I instinctively pulled back but kept looking.  They continued to weave in and out of the garden area, stopping for a short cuddle, if you know what I mean.  Then they looked up at me again and trotted off, away from town.  I watched them until they were out of sight and then went back to bed.

I am amazed at the animal population of urban areas.  You know we have a healthy population of crows, I’ve written about them before.  We also have black squirrels who scamper all over the park area in front of our building, up and down the trees.  They come down frontwards.  They are fearless, crossing the road all the time.  I made Jordan laugh when we were sitting talking in the living room one day.  I looked out of the window and saw one.  Of course I immediately shouted “Squirrel!” and pointed.  It was perfect, right in the middle of a conversation.  If you’ve seen the movie “Up” you’ll know why we both laughed.

I’ve also seen hawks and bald eagles on my adventures out and about.  The hawks have usually been sitting on fence posts or on top of street lights.  The eagles have usually been flying.  Occasionally I’ve seen them on the top of trees.  There was a TV news report about a bear in a neighbourhood in Port Coquitlam, but not close to us.  The city does provide bear proof locks for garbage cans, but we haven’t been issued them.  I guess we are too far into the city for the bears.  We have smelled skunks a couple of times, but then and again, it could have been the smell of pot emanating from the building behind us.  One night on my drive home from the theatre I saw a family of raccoons crossing Pitt River Road.  I think we’ve all seen the news reports where cougars or deer have been spotted in urban neighbourhoods.

It shouldn’t be surprising that we have critters in our neighbourhood.  The river is only a couple of blocks away and much of the land on either side of it is undeveloped.  There have been signs on the bike trails indicating that bears have been in the area, especially around salmon spawning time.  This was originally their land; we’ve moved in and taken over.  Those animals who couldn’t adapt moved on.  There have been some great documentaries on TV about urban critters.  Raccoons have learned to use the storm drain system to move in and out of the city.  They especially love to visit the dumpsters behind restaurants.  In the suburbs, they look for homes where pets are fed outside.  Coyotes use the rail lines to move around, and also apparently pedestrian walkways.  They too look for pet food, and pets, left outside.  Adapting is the name of the game for urban animals.The last documentary I saw was about coywolves. The urban populations of coyotes and wolves have merged and the result is an new canine. The report was on coywolves in Toronto area parks but the species is now all over Canada.

I don’t know if I saw regular coyotes last night, or if they were coywolves.  Whatever they were, they left me feeling a little unsettled.  They knew I was there watching them.  They looked directly up at my window and I reacted as if they were a threat.  I actually pulled back, even though I was three storeys up and behind glass, well out of any danger.  Perhaps it was instinctual; the primeval fear of a predator sniffing around the mouth of the cave.  Whatever it was, I found it hard to go back to sleep and in the morning the unease lingered and that surprised me.   I should be far more worried about the urban wildlife on two legs who can break into cars and houses. The odds of being negatively involved with them are much higher than with the other wildlife I’ve mentioned.  Except for the crows and seagulls; never, ever trust them, they are evil and will get you.

At about 1:30 last Friday we started our trip back home to the Kootenays.  My sister Jo-Ann and her husband Jon host an epic Christmas party every year and we like to go to it whenever we can.  Our trip started in rain and it stayed in rain until we started up the Hope-Princeton. The large electronic signs over the highway said that transport trucks should chain up.  We didn’t see a single truck that followed that instruction.  As the road was bare I guess they didn’t think they needed to.  However, the bare road soon became snow-covered as the rain turned to snow at the higher elevation.  It was a thick, fluffy snow that accumulated quickly.  It was also getting dark.  We were coming up to the first hairpin concern before Manning Park when we noticed that the traffic had stopped.  There were three cars idling behind a jack-knifed rig.  They couldn’t safely go by because the corner was so sharp they couldn’t see if any cars were coming.  As we pulled up, a couple of girls in the first car got out and ran past the truck.  They then waved their friend through.  She stopped in front of the truck with her four-way flashers on and then they waved the rest of the traffic through.  As we were waiting for our turn another big truck pulled up behind us.  It had to stop because we weren’t moving yet.  Of course, it didn’t have chains on either, so it got stuck.  We inched by and then continued on our way.  The first vehicle that passed us going west was another big truck.  We flashed our lights to let him know that he should slow down.  We hoped he didn’t get stuck on the corner too.

The rest of the trip on the Hope-Princeton was uneventful.  It was very dark and very snowy.  We drove quite slowly most of the way because it was hard to tell where we were.  We’ve driven that road a thousand times and so we know where the narrow parts and sharp corners are.  However, when the snow is swirling in the darkness, all of the landmarks and most of the signs were obscured.  It was a relief to start down into Princeton.  Our first indication that we were getting close was the smell of wood smoke.  I guess the storm was keeping it all in the valley.  It was a comforting smell and it helped to lift our spirits as we continued on.

The roads were barer the further on we went. Osoyoos was quiet.  We were able to see that the fountain down by the resort area had partially frozen and the result was like a new age sculpture.  We laughed at the signs on the motels that said “No Vacancy” even though the parking lots were empty.  I guess saying there’s no room is better than saying “sorry, we don’t want to do all the work of checking you in and cleaning your room when only two or three of you come by all week”.  We expected snow on the Anarchist Summit but it was pretty bare.

Along that road there are bronze statues of animals.  I think they were put there by the developer who has lots for sale in the area.  There’s a falcon, a moose, several deer, a cougar, some eagles; ten statues in all.   Dale thought the sasquatch statue was dressed like Santa Claus but it was hard to see it in the dark.  We made a mental note to check it in the daylight on our return trip.

We stopped in Rock Creek for a quick run to the public bathroom at the gas station there.  As we came out and headed back to our vehicle, the lights went off.  They close at 8:00 so we had just made it. Thank goodness!  It was far too cold to have to pee outside!  We continued on our way.  Just outside Grand Forks we had a little scare.  We saw a deer on the right side of the road and slowed down, just in case it wanted to cross back over the road.  What we didn’t see, until the last minute, was his buddy on the left side of the road.  He came across just in front of us.  Luckily we had slowed and so Dale was easily able to avoid it.

We got into Trail around 10:30 and headed straight to our deluxe room in a local motel.  I had a good laugh when I opened the door.  We had asked for a room with a king-sized bed and we got one.  The door grazed the edge of the bed as I opened it.  But it was a clean room with a bathtub in the bathroom, although the bathroom sink was in the kitchenette area, that was a little strange.  Dale brought in our bags, I had a bath and then we went to bed.

In the morning we wanted to have breakfast with Dale’s dad and stepmom before we headed to Fruitvale.  However, we learned that there really wasn’t any place to have a nice breakfast in Trail, so we headed up to Rossland.  We had a delicious breakfast in Clansey’s Café and spent a lovely couple of hours chatting.  Then it was off to Fruitvale to visit with my mom before the party.

Our time there was wonderful.  I had a great chat with Mom while Dale was visiting with our niece Jessica.  Jo-Ann was busy in the kitchen with the last minute preparations for the party and Jon was puttering with little jobs.  Soon everyone arrived. Amidst hugs and laughter we caught up with old friends.  After dinner we had the gift exchange.  The only rule of the gift exchange is what you bring has to be something you already have, you can’t go out and buy it.  Needless to say, there were a few real stinkers wrapped in festive paper or hidden in a fancy gift bag, some of which had been seen at the party before.  I got the rats, a gag gift that has to come back every year.  As I wasn’t sure if we’d be able to come back next year I gave them to someone who was sure.  However, I refused to exchange them for her gift, a spin the bottle game.  Lucky her!  She got two presents!

We left around 11:00.  We had forgotten to remove the “Do Not Disturb” sign from our motel room door so our bed wasn’t made and we didn’t have new towels.  We made the best of it and were soon tucked up in bed.  The morning came early and we left around 7:30.  It was snowing lightly and the roads were quite slippery.  We did get some sun however, and in the daytime we could really appreciate the wintery beauty of the drive.  BC is a very beautiful and varied province.  We drove through mountain passes, river valleys and desert areas.  We saw evergreen trees and sage brush covered in snow.  We remembered to stop at the sasquatch statue and it was dressed like Santa.  Someone has a great sense of humour.  We’ve also seen that statue with a case of beer in its hand! The moose statue had Christmas tree ornaments and garland hanging from its antlers and we think one of the birds had a red scarf around its neck.   The snow turned to rain as we got closer to Hope.  All the dirty snow that had accumulated on our vehicle was washed away.

Several people at the party commented that it was nice that we had driven all that way for the party.  It was a whirlwind, but it was worth it.  It feels great to catch up with family and friends.  Most of the people at the party have lived in Fruitvale, often in the same house, for years and years.  We’ve moved so much that every time we go back we have to fill people in on the changes.  They laugh and call us city folk but we don’t mind, because we are.  We love the city and all it offers.  To paraphrase an old saying and mash it together with another one, you can go back home again, you just can’t live there after you’ve seen the (de) lights of the city.

A while ago Jordan suggested that we should again go to the Van Dusen Botanical Gardens to see the Christmas light display.  Dale and I agreed and we all decided to make an evening of it, with a dinner together starting it off.  There was a slight snag in the plans though; it was going to be on a Thursday night, and both Dale and Jordan would be working during the day and neither one of them wanted to come back to Poco to pick me up.  If I drove in, then Dale and I would be in separate vehicles and that didn’t feel right, so it was suggested that I take the SkyTrain downtown,  I gamely agreed and when the date drew closer I began planning my trip.

Now, before I start, let me tell you how I expected it would go.  I would walk to the closest bus station, where a bus would quickly appear and take me to the nearest SkyTrain station.  The train would quickly appear and take me directly to the station I needed to go to.  Well, needless to say that’s not how the transit system works.

I used Translink’s website to plan the trip.  It’s a great feature.  You put in where you will be starting from, where you want to go, the date and either your departure or arrival time.  Then a number of options appear.  My two best options were to take the 160 bus from Wilson Street in Poco (which is very close by) to Waterfront Station in Vancouver, then get on the Skytrain to Broadway/City Hall Station; or to take the bus (I don’t remember the number) to Braid Station, take the SkyTrain to Waterfront Station, change lines and go to Broadway/City Hall Station.  Both of those options would take the better part of 2 hours.  The 160 bus trip from here to downtown is about an hour and a half.  The Skytrain trip is only about 6 minutes, but you have to walk from the bus to the station and then down to the trains.  The bus to Braid Station from here takes about an hour and then the SkyTrain ride to Waterfront takes about 35 minutes.  While I would end up right in the station, I would have to change lines which would take a little bit of time.

I was a little apprehensive but hey, millions of people take transit every day, and if they can do it, I can.  On the morning of the trip I went to our local 7-11 to buy a Translink day pass.  It would allow me to take any bus or any train all day.  I figured that was a good idea, because if I miscalculated or got on a wrong bus or train, I could get off and take another, as long as I did it before midnight.  The 160 bus was scheduled to arrive at the Wilson Street bus stop at 4:17, so at 4:00 I went downstairs, put on my boots and coat, grabbed an umbrella and set out.  I was at the bus stop at 4:03.  Have I ever mentioned that I hate being late and so am always very early for most things?  No, well I am.  And of course the bus was late.  So I stood in the cold and the wet for about half an hour.

The bus arrived and about 10 people got on.  I had no idea how to use my pass but the bus driver and the guy behind me showed me how to validate my ticket.  Once everyone was sitting, the bus left, and then proceeded to stop about every other block.  We went to the Coquitlam Station then got on the Barnet to Port Moody, where we continued to stop about every other block.  However, as we got further out of the Tri-City area our stops became less frequent as fewer people got on and off.  Soon we were in Vancouver.

As we got closer the young woman sitting beside me stirred.  She fixed her make-up and took off her running shoes and socks.  She took a pair of strappy high heels out of her backpack and stuck them on her feet.  That left room for the running shoes to go into the backpack.  She moved to an empty pair of seats beside us so she would have room to do up her shoes properly.  She pulled the stop cord for the Abbot Street stop and got off in Gastown.  I watched her cross the street.  Although we hadn’t talked on the long trip into the city, I hoped she was going to meet some friends and that she would have a good night.

No one really talked on the bus ride.  Most people were sitting quietly after a long day of work.  Some were checking their phones, some closed their eyes and waited to hear that their stop was coming up.  I thought the bus was going to go to Waterfront Station.  It didn’t.  I heard the automated voice say something and then “and transfer to Waterfront Station”.  By this time there were only a few people on the bus, so I walked up to the bus driver.  I asked if I had to get off if I wanted to go to Waterfront Station.  He said yes, so I got off.

It was dark and rainy and I had no idea where I was, just that Waterfront Station was nearby.  I took out my phone and using my map app, located the station.  It said I should walk 200 metres and then turn right onto Cordova Street, so I started walking.  Now another thing you should know about me is that I invariably go the wrong direction and this was no exception.  I realized I was going the wrong way when the app said I was 250 metres from the station.  I was getting further away from where I wanted to go!  So I sighed and turned around.  Soon I recognized where I was and got into the station.  But my travails weren’t over.  I had to find the Canada Line and get on the train.  The signs were clear enough but I also asked a transit worker.  With my sense of direction, the more confirmation I get the better!  The train arrived just as I got there so I hopped onboard and stood near the door.

As I was standing there I got a text from Dale.  He and Jordan (and Jordan’s friend) were already at the restaurant.  I texted back that I was on the train.  I got off at the correct stop, walked up to the street and turned left.  Jordan had told me to walk towards the Starbucks then go up two blocks to the restaurant.  Of course, Dale texted me the directions (he knows only too well my terrible sense of direction).  I ignored his text and the following one asking where I was.  I found the restaurant, saw them and joined them.  They had thoughtfully ordered me a drink so I sat down, took a sip and told them of my adventure.

After dinner we drove the short distance to the gardens and then toured it.  It was raining but that just made the lights more shimmery and magical.  We took pictures, drank hot chocolate and ate mini doughnuts and generally had a wonderful time.  I think we have established a new tradition with Jordan.  Last week we went to SFU Woodward’s production of “Bah Humbug” starring Jim Byrnes with Darin and Devon, that might be a new tradition with them.

While my trip was relatively painless (I did worry the whole time I was on the bus that it was going to stop long before Waterfront Station and that I would have to figure out what to do), I did gain a new appreciation for how hard it is to have to rely on transit.  The buses are often late and they take a long time to get anywhere.  They make frequent stops and have to move with the traffic.  This means that it could take hours to get anywhere, adding a lot of time to an already long day of work.  And if you miss the one you wanted to get, you have to wait for the next one, adding even more time.

Now that I’ve had one transit adventure, the next one will be easier.  That’s how life works.  The braver you are, the braver you get.  The more you do, the more you want to do.  I just hope that I have a wingman for my next trip.  Time goes faster when you have someone to share it with.

Yesterday was a regular day, well, as regular as it has been in the last week or so with me fighting this nasty cold virus.  I got up and did my little chores. I had the winter tires put on my bug and later I went for a facial that I won at the salon where I get my hair done.  It was nice but not something I’ll repeat, not at about $100 a pop.  When I got home from that I had a cup of tea, then I went to iron Dale’s work shirts.  While I was ironing I noticed that the wind had come up.  The trees behind our building were really rocking and the rain started to pelt the windows.  As I finished the last shirt, the lights flickered and dimmed a couple of times but stayed on.  I went back downstairs, pre-heated the oven, scrubbed a couple of potatoes, sliced off the ends and made some deep slices into them and popped them in the oven.  Then I picked up a pair of pants I had pinned up the legs on and started hemming them by hand.  I was partway through one leg when the power went off.  It was about 4:30.

When the power goes off, the wifi goes off, so I had to use my phone to check Twitter and the internet to see what was going on.  From the Twitterfeed it was clear that a windstorm was working its way from the coast through the valley.  Power was out all over.  The BC Hydro website showed the power in our area out with a crew on the way to investigate.  What’s so annoying is that all the new buildings in our area are on the same grid feed.  A block away, the older buildings on Shaughnessy still had power.  However, all the apartment buildings and townhouses built where old houses once stood were dark.  There is an extended care home across the park from us and their emergency generators kicked in.  In the silence, they could clearly be heard.  It was still light enough to sew by, so I sat up on the window seat and finished hemming that one leg of my pants.

I waited a bit then texted Dale.  When he got home at about 6:00, the power was still out.  I took the potatoes out of the oven and threw them into the compost pail. We got into the car and went in search of dinner.  Most of the area around us had power so we had a lot of options.  After a great burger and fries at Five Guys Burger and Fries we headed to Walmart to waste some time. It was close by and I didn’t feel like fighting the mob at the mall.  I looked at books and Christmas decorations while Dale loaded up on shaving supplies and vitamins.  By 8:00 we were back home in the dark.  We read for a while, Dale on his Kindle and me on my iPad and by 9:00 we decided to head to bed.

Now, let me tell you, sleeping with no power is a problem in our house.  You see, Dale has sleep apnea and with no power, he can’t use his CPAP machine.  That means that it falls on me to keep him alive during the night.  I’ve learned not to bother him when he’s snoring, at least he’s still breathing when he’s snoring.  But when he makes no noise at all, not even an in-breath, that’s when I spring into action.  A gentle nudge on the leg or the shoulder is enough to cause him to start breathing again.  But it wakes him up and that annoys him.  Hell, how annoyed would he be if I didn’t wake him up! And that means we both get a crappy night’s sleep.

Dale falls asleep quickly and last night was no different.  I lay beside him, listening to the hum of the generators next door and listening for his breathing.  We were both thrilled when the power came back on just after 11:00. (Thank goodness Dale had replaced the smoke detectors to ones with battery backup because the old ones would go off when the power came back on. That would have been a really rude awakening!) I went downstairs to set the clocks on the stove and microwave, Dale set the time on the clock radios and turned on his machine.  He was asleep by 11:20, I think the last time I saw the clock was about 12:45.

This morning I got up and headed downstairs.  The power was still on.  I made a cup of tea, checked Facebook and my email.  After replying to what needed replying to, I had a toasted everything bagel with cream cheese.  I must digress a bit here and say that a toasted everything bagel with cream cheese is probably the best morning food in the world.  I like my bagels really toasted, not just warm and with just a touch of cream cheese.  They never get it right at Timmy’s or other places.  So I settled down to really enjoy my bagel.  After that I thought about heading up to the shower.  Instead I got distracted with a blog entry that I wasn’t happy with, and was about to delete, when the power went off again.

Now in the old days, I could have still had my shower because there would have been some hot water still in the tank.  However, we have on-demand hot water, which is quite lovely because it gets hot right away and never runs out, but it doesn’t work when there’s no power.  So I got dressed and sat myself down by the window to finish hemming my pants.  After about an hour I checked online with my phone.  The BC Hydro website was confusing because it said that our area’s power had been out all night and was scheduled to be restored by 1:00.  I texted Dale and a few minutes later he called.  It’s funny; whenever I text him he calls me back. He’s an old school old guy I guess.  He was upset, saying that if it was still out when he got home we were packing up and going somewhere for the weekend.  I was okay with that, but the power came back on at 12:57.  I guess BC Hydro’s estimate was right.

However, my power struggles weren’t over.  While the Telus internet came back on, the TV did not.  I did all the things they told me to do last time the power went off and the TV didn’t come back on but it didn’t work.  That meant I had to spend about 25 minutes on the phone with a Telus rep, unplugging the modem and digital boxes, in a certain order and then plugging them all back in again in the same order.

First world problems huh?  Even though we were in bed with no power last night, we still had a roof over our heads, warm covers and clothing and food in our cupboards.  If the power stayed off long enough the fish that we have frozen from the luxury fishing trips that Dale took this summer might have thawed.  And while that would have been a waste of wonderful fish, we wouldn’t have gone hungry, and Dale would still have had the great experiences at those lodges catching it all.  So I didn’t get a bath last night or a shower this morning (only because I was a lazy so and so, I should have showered when I got up), I knew the power would eventually come back on.  And if it had been a little longer coming back, we could have gone to a hotel and shower, bathe, eat and sleep, with all the power we needed.

Dale’s favourite play of all the ones that I’ve been in is “All I Really Need to Know I Learned in Kindergarten”.  One of the scenes is about a young man complaining about having to eat the same food day after day at a summer camp.  His older self tells him that having food at all is a blessing, and that some things in life that we label as problems are not problems at all, just inconveniences.  A hole in your roof is an inconvenience,  no roof is a problem.  A lump in your oatmeal and a lump in your breast are not the same thing.  We both still remember those lines and we often repeat them to each other.  Having no power for several hours, or even for several days, in just an inconvenience.  And to lessen our stress, Dale has an appointment at the doctor’s tomorrow to get a prescription for a battery-powered CPAP machine.  That, along with the battery backup smoke detectors that I no longer have to worry about going off when the power comes back on, will guarantee a good night’s sleep in our warm, cozy house in our bed with a warm, cozy duvet if the power goes out. And if I can’t handle not having a cup of tea (or a toasted everything bagel with cream cheese) in the morning, I can get into my little red VW bug, which has heat, and drive to an open café or coffee shop.  Really, there are few inconveniences in our lives, and at this point, no problems at all.

I love living here.  I have written about the many positives I have found.  However, there are some negatives and we just experienced one of the most negative.  One late afternoon this week I left the garage door open for about half an hour.  A neighbour rang the bell to let us know.  We closed it and we didn’t think any more about it.  Then the power went off.  I had to go to rehearsal so I took Dale’s car, it was outside and that was easier than wiggling between the cars to get to the pull cord to manually open the garage door so I could get the Bug out.

In the morning the power was still out and I had to drive to Maple Ridge to meet up with a friend to head to a ladies lunch sponsored by Dale’s work. Dale thoughtfully moved my Bug out of the garage for me before he went to work.  And that’s when he noticed.  We had been robbed.

While the garage door was open, someone went into my car and removed my Bluetooth GPS and my Sirius satellite radio receiver.  They took an iPod and a Bose docking station, a battery charger and our bikes from the garage. That was probably all they could carry.  The RCMP officer who came when we filed our claim said they probably made their getaway on them.

There are 5 townhouses in our building; four of them have been affected by property crime.  The family in Unit 1 had their car broken into.  The people in Unit 2 had someone enter their home though a closed but unlocked front door and steal things, while their daughter was upstairs.  The garage door on Unit 4 was also left open for a while and things were taken.

I am always very careful to close the garage door when I leave it.  I stop the car, close the door and then say. “The garage door is closed”, so I have a memory of doing it.  Too often in the past I did it on auto-pilot and then couldn’t remember if I had done it or not.  Usually I look in my rear view mirror as I drive away, and again I say out loud that the garage door is closed.  I wasn’t as “in the moment” when I came into the garage, obviously.  And that day I had been in and out of the garage all day, waiting for the city to empty our garbage can, which they didn’t.

So, the lesson?  Well the obvious one is to be careful.  We live in an urban area with lots of homeless people moving in and out of the area all day long.  We see them on the benches in the park in front of our building.  And for a while, we saw them camping in the overgrown gardens just down the path from us. With no means of support, they have to steal to survive.  And if we let down our guards, or are forgetful, they will take advantage of us.

We were angry, of course.  We had been violated and the things we had worked hard to get, or that had been given to us by loved ones, had been taken.  My response was to lock everything and remove all temptation from sight.  I took the garage door opener out of the car and locked the door between the house and the garage.  Dale was having none of that though, he wasn’t going to live barricaded in his house.  So, the opener went back and the door became unlocked.  I was also upset.  It was my fault that it happened.  I left the garage door open.  I should know better.  I had heard of the other problems here.  I had seen the people in our neighbourhood on their bikes, pulling shopping carts.  I knew they were out there, and I should have known they were watching.  For a couple of days I found myself sitting on the window seat, eyeing everyone who walked or rode by.  I saw someone going into the gardens of the building across the street, pulling something in a garbage bag into the bushes.  I reported that to the police officer who came to follow up with our phone report.  He checked it out and said that it was the gardener putting leaves there to use as mulch later.  I hated that I was so suspicious.  So I decided to change my mindset.

Instead of being angry that someone had stolen from us, I started to think about how it would feel to be the person stealing from us.  That can’t be a good feeling, to know that you are taking things from people.  But obviously the person who did it had no other options, or at least he (and I know my bias is showing but we rarely see homeless women sitting on the park benches) felt he had no other options.  That’s the rub.  We have a homeless problem in BC.  There are people living on the streets, for whatever reason, and I am not aware of the support systems that are available to help them.  I know I hear on the news that agencies are closing their doors, or shutting down programs.  And even though I have seen homeless people, I didn’t really think about them until my life was affected.

Maybe the lesson for me is to be thankful that I have things that are worth taking and that we can afford to replace them.  Maybe I’m being pushed to be involved in being a part of the solution, either through some of the agencies or charities or by being active politically. Maybe I’m being told to give more.  The other day a young man stopped me outside of Safeway asking for some change.  I didn’t have any change, only twenties from the cash machine I had just used.  Would giving him $20 have meant one night when he didn’t have to look for an open garage?  Who knows, but I’m thinking that if the person, or people, who took those things from my car and our garage had had some money, they wouldn’t have needed to steal.

I know I’ve written about my phobia of birds before but today I’d like to give you a little background information about it.  One of my earliest memories is of our family sitting at the breakfast table.  We suddenly hear shouting and screaming.  It is my brother Mike.  We all rush outside and run to the backyard.  He has been feeding the chickens but somehow they have knocked him down and the chicken feed has spilled over him.  The chickens are pecking at him to get the feed.  He is flailing and shouting, in a high, little boy voice, but the chickens are not moving away.  My dad opens the door of the chicken run and begins grabbing chickens and throwing them off of my brother.  He helps Mike up and we all go back to breakfast.  In my memory the chickens are as big as me.  They were probably white leghorn chickens, and I was little so the size might be accurate.  More likely, however, is that they seemed big and scary to me.  I think that is where it all started, but that isn’t where it ended.

Later on, we had Banty chickens and in my memories they were always getting out of the chicken coop.  The hens would run away from you but the rooster would attack.  He would stretch out his wings and swoop towards you with his talons out front.  He would also run at you and try to peck you with his beak.  It was terrifying and you never really knew where he was.  These experiences reinforced the first one and my phobia blossomed.  It didn’t help that my younger sister, who shall remain nameless to protect her identity (but her name rhymes with Darbara), realized I was afraid and used that fact against me.  She would catch the chickens and throw them at me.  The sound of their wings as they flapped near my face was horrific.  I can still see their beady little eyes and their wicked beaks flying at me.  She would also push me into the chicken house and lock the door.

The phobia grew and soon I was afraid of all birds larger than robins, especially white ones.  I couldn’t look at pictures of seagulls without heart palpitations.  White feathers in the shape of wings did the same thing.  When the kids were little ferry rides and trips to Stanley Park or the beach were rife with anxiety.  On a trip to Sea World in San Diego we couldn’t find a place inside to eat.  The outdoor eating area did have a net over it but there were holes in it and the seagulls and pigeons had found their way inside.  I really tried to control my fear but it was clearly evident and we had to leave.  Pigeons in the city freak me out, and it will always happen that when I’m nearby, a child will run at a flock to get them to fly.  I can almost handle pigeons walking around, I can’t handle it when they fly past.  I cringe and whimper.  It is not pretty.

Interestingly, I have made improvements.  I can now watch little birdies hopping around my feet when I sit outside in restaurants.  I don’t think I would react well if one flew at my face but I don’t obsess about that happening.  I can look at birds in photos or on TV without anxiety.  However, I still don’t like the sound of flapping wings and large flocks of birds still make me very anxious.

So, now you know the background and I can get to my current story.  It was a beautiful. sunny day yesterday and I had to go to the local farm market to get some salad ingredients for dinner. I grabbed a cloth bag, folded it neatly into my purse, walked out the front door and locked it.  I made my way across the little park in front of our building and walked along the pedestrian walkway to the street.  Soon I was at the shop.  I poked around a little, bought what I needed and headed home.  As I got closer I could see there were crows up ahead.  They were on the grassy areas on either side of the walkway.  I slowed my pace and looked around the large rhododendrons that fill the flower bed just before our building.  The park was full of crows.  There were at least a thousand of them, well, maybe fifty.  But worse that that, they were also on either side of the walkway and on the power lines overhead.  I slowed and then stopped.  There was an elderly gentleman sitting on a nearby park bench, his walker and oxygen beside him.  He looked over his glasses at me and tipped his hat.  I laughed nervously and told him I might need for someone else to go ahead of me.  He smiled but shook his head. It wasn’t going to be him.  I looked up and some older ladies were on the other side of the street, coming towards me.  Some of the crows hopped away as they crossed the street.  Okay, I thought, they might clear the way a little, so I walked towards them.  As I did that, all of the birds took flight, in every conceivable direction.  I could hear wings flapping all around me.  Some of the crows flew right by me, some flew over me, some flew behind me.  I screamed a little and ducked my head.  One of the ladies looked at me.  I think I told her birds scare the crap out of me.

I walked quickly to our building and up the sidewalk to our door.  By now the birds had wheeled overhead and were flying towards me, landing on the roof of our building.  Their shadows swept over me as I fumbled with the key.  I got inside and leaned against the door, safe!  I slowed my breathing and went up the stairs to put the groceries away.  I felt so foolish, to be so affected by some birds, but then, that’s what a phobia is, an irrational fear.

I stood at the window later and watched the crows.  They were pecking at the grass.  The recent rain, the clearing of the leaves and then the sunshine must have exposed some tasty morsels.  They were just hanging out, eating, chilling with their buds, seeing and being seen; they are very sociable creatures after all.  With the window glass between us, I could watch them.  When I’ve told my stories to people, many of them have said, “You know, they are probably more afraid of you than you are of them”.  I seriously doubt that.