Fellow writers….when you have something to say, say it. Distraction Sucks!

I wanted to put a kitchen in the basement, teach cooking classes and eventually have an income generator in a basement suite. We put new cabinets in, a new tile countertop, fridge, stove and painted the walls a lovely shade of peaceful sage.

Two years ago we decided to finally get rid of the old cedar paneling in the living room upstairs and install a free standing woodstove. Wonderful! We’re very happy with how it turned out.

This past summer we added two new rooms and turned an existing room into an ensuite. They’re beautiful. I now have my own office and a gorgeous new sauna. No complaints!

Now we just added a shower to the basement bathroom, two new rooms downstairs and painted a lovely shade of soothing light butter cream on all the walls.

Take a walk upstairs, nice living room, nice dining room, great hall, awesome bedrooms but the kitchen looks about as appetizing as burnt toast! Oh and the fridge is leaking so there’s a wet towel on the floor in front of it, the dishwasher broke a year ago and the stove has only two working elements, the other day I almost burned the house down.

We need a new kitchen.

Then there’s the flashing at the front door we have dry rot, pretty soon we’ll be able to see daylight through a hole in the wall.

Does it ever end? I know our credit limit has and so much for a new/used car.

Beth Yim

This past weekend, after a day of badminton play, our adult kids came home for a sit down dinner. It was like old times. All it lacked was the cards and pad of paper and pencil.

We used to play Hearts or Rummy at dinnertime. We homeschooled and would turn every event into a learning opportunity. Playing card games developed reading and math skills, teamwork and because John never let them win, how to lose.

No cards this time, instead we reminisced about Christmas. Only a month away we were all at a loss as to what to get each other. Quickly the conversation segued from wanting to know what to get each other to what we got in the past.

“Did you get me a troll?” Zack asked as we led him to the small door under our house. Zack was seven, and wanting a bike of his own. The night before John had hid a new CCM there, among the cobwebs, last summers onions and a few jars of jam.

Zack thought a troll lived under the porch so getting one for Christmas certainly made sense to him. But that was soon forgotten when he opened the door and saw his new shiny blue bike. We have still pictures of his surprise. The large oh shaped mouth, raised eyebrows and arms stretched out to his side. We didn’t take video, just still pictures, each one a frozen moment of joy.

“What present do you remember?” Zack asked Megan.

“I just remember the Lego Aqua Center you and Zachary destroyed.”

“You were so angry.” Zack said. “And mom got so mad at me. I couldn’t figure out why?”

“Any other ones you remember?” I asked. We sat silently, different memories, different stories moving past respective mental screens.

“I can’t think of any.” Megan said.

Zack listed off a half dozen. Megan sat silent. I started feeling guilty. What did I get her for Christmas. I couldn’t remember. Desperation sped my memories but all that stepped forward were gifts Zack had gotten; ski passes, a camera, snowboard, stereo and on and on.

Eventually, Zack wandered off, John left to turn the TV on. I sat at the table, elbows on either side of my now empty dinner plate. I wanted to remember something, anything. We did get her good gifts, ones she really liked. But we couldn’t remember any of them.

I’ve learned my lesson. From this Christmas on, whether it’s our kids or grandkids, I’m writing down what we give them. If they can’t remember, at least we’ll be able to look in my Christmas gift record book and tell them, show them that the gift giving was fair, that everyone got the same amount of wonderful gifts.

There’ll be no room for sad feelings, of being left out, or forgotten. We might even start a new tradition: the annual bringing out the Christmas Gift Ledger Book. We can all gather round and reminisce about past Christmas presents.

The idea has merit. I think I’ll make it so!

I just figured out how to start the gas stove and am cooking up some rice and fried chicken we had delivered to the room before we got here.It was nice to have food in the kitchen and not have to worry about finding a way to the grocery store.

We arrived in St. Maartens early, without too much ado and little turbulence. We had more shaking on the trip from Victoria to Seattle. In fact, just as we boarded an announcement suggested that due to the heavy wind and rough seas we should come to the front counter and get a $.25 dose of drugs for seasickness. I wasn’t going to bother but Susan has issues with motion sickness so she took one. When our seat neighbours heard i wasn’t going to take any, they begged me to reconsider as the trip from Seattle to Victoria for them had been hellish. With people vomitting in the aisles. I opted for not embarrassing myself!

After we boarded the plane in Seattle I took a sleeping pill and dosed off and on for the 5.45 hour trip. I even lay down on the Charlotte airport floor to sleep off the residuals. Unfortunately, for some reason, i had major issues with restless legs and had difficulty keeping still.

Flying to St. Maarten I took a Benadryl thinking that would help the restless legs. It didn’t but I slept better. But, apparently I missed quite a show. I was sitting on the aisle seat and missed a magnificent double rainbow arching over the island. Susan missed it to as we were also sitting over the wing.

Customs and immigration moved quickly and before we knew it we were driving through the streets of St. Maarten’s airport town. I called ‘shotgun’ and got to sit up front. I peppered the driver with questions about farming and food producing. He said there was a chicken producing farm but the soil isn’t very fertile here so even gardening is hard to do. He said his mom just grows tomatoes and peppers.

Pointing out a yacht at anchor in the harbour the driver said it cost $500,000 to charter the boat….for one day….and that doesn’t include the food and crew! I wonder what it’s like to have that kind of money?

The ferry trip from St. Maarten’s to Anguilla was very exciting with huge swells and a stiff wind. Some of the passengers were very anxious and, if the trip had been longer, would have been heaving over the side. Three Frigate birds followed us weaving in and out of the updrafts.

I’m now going to join Susan at poolside for a nice moonlit swim in the pool. We’re not on the beach so no midnight swim with Jaws for me.

Please let mom/nana know that I arrived safe, sound and not feeling too tired.

Love to all.
Beth/Mum

Plus, on further consideration, hanging blinds is like the final test of interior design. In Feng Shui terms it’s more yinnish than yangish. For us, it’s the final installation in the new addition. After more than three months, the house is slowly getting back to its usual chaos, not someone else’s work related chaos.

I’ve picked colours, looks, placement and feel. I’ve moved furniture around, reorganized rooms, lifted and carried boxes of stuff, hunted for reused products as much as possible, chosen paint colours, light and bathroom fixtures and installed just the right sustainably harvested flooring. Blinds seem to be nothing after all this. And John’s tool belt and new power drill were sitting waiting to be used.

I guess what I need to point out is that my Dad is a carpenter. I grew up with the sound of construction, mostly hammering and sawing, as background music. He loved his work and more often than not, brought it home with him.

He got home at 5:00 in the afternoon, ate dinner, and went downstairs to his workshop, building, adding, and repairing. I’m used to the sound of metal on metal, lumber slamming against lumber, and the rhythmic noise of a hand saw slicing through wood. Those I don’t mind. It’s the scream of power tools that really does me in.

My aversion to power tools began when I was two years old and Dad introduced a Skilsaw to our home. I was 2 and didn’t respond well to the sound. At all! As mom tells it, I was inconsolable; screaming and flailing in her arms. Though Dad was not overly tolerant of this behaviour, my mom was no one to debate with. For years, the only time Dad could use the Skilsaw at home was when I was at the other end of the house. Then he brought home a power drill. He loved that thing. He wanted me to love it too. To share with him the wonder of how easy it was to build desks and toys and tree forts. But it sent me off in a similar fit. Unable to admire it or partake of what he saw as incredible usefulness. He’d get very frustrated with my unreasonable fear. I don’t blame him. It’s hard to comfort a frantic child.

As an adult I still find the sound of power tools grating. I cringe when I hear them. It’s like scraping your nails across a blackboard times 20. I don’t even like watching someone use them. It follows that I don’t use power drills. I use a screwdriver. It takes me forever to screw things together, I get calluses on my palms and achy wrists, but it’s quiet and a screwdriver can’t fly out of your hands and drill a hole in you, at least I hope it can’t.

Installed Blinds by Beth

I debated installing the blinds, knowing it would be easier with a power drill, knowing my wrists would get tired screwing the fasteners into the wood window frame. But I guess I’ve inherited a stubborn streak from my Dad. He never left a job unfinished. Just before his stroke mum asked him to build a room under the rafters in their townhouse where she could put a sauna. A week after he painted the last piece of crown molding, while standing at the sink in the kitchen wiping a dish, he had a major stroke. The dish shattered when it fell on the floor. Mum noticed something was wrong and was able to reach and catch Dad before he hit the hard tile. He’s had several strokes since and is now in a home. He can’t speak, but he can understand, he can’t move because he’s too weak. But he finished his last job. He built mom a beautiful room for her sauna.

I found the right bit, put it in the right hole and tried to tighten it so the bit wouldn’t fall out. I knew the tightening ‘key’ went in a hole on the side of the shaft but I couldn’t get the bit to stay snuggly immobilized in it’s receptacle. After each screw went into the frame I’d have to hand tighten it again as best I could. The bit fell out a few times, rolled under the bed once, and dropped out the window. I wanted to quit every time. It was hot, I was sweating and my glasses kept falling off. But the screw moved through the wood like a knife through soft butter and the blinds slipped into their metal sheaf effortlessly and tonight I wouldn’t need to worry about people seeing in my window. And I could say I finished the job myself. I could say I did it. I could say I’m my father’s daughter.

Diarhea and constipation are only minor side effects of bad flora tipping the scale. The area that feels the biggest impact is the with the immune system.

Check this out ……

But what if this next generation of children were being held back from a higher level of achievement by an outside, invisible force? What if on a daily basis your child was being exposed to a chemical agent that could adversely impact their ability to learn and grow?

Well, they are! In foods that have been sprayed with pesticides and in food products made from those foods sprayed with pesticides.

Check out these studies.
You can lower your child’s risk by avoiding foods that have the highest levels of pesticide residue. Check here

Why? Because smart and unethical marketers, manufacturers and scientists know how your vision, olfaction, taste, and brain work! They know how easy it is to create an addictive pathway. They’ve studied it! They know how to enhance the flavour of a food product by stimulating taste receptors with specific chemicals. They know how scent is powerful and stimulates salivation. They know how and what neurotransmitters are released when you eat something tasty.

You are an open book and corporations wanting to capitalize on that free information use that knowledged to get into your head and your pocket book.

Do you know what is in your food? Do you know how much research goes in to making you drop your buck on an unhealthy food choice? Do you care? You may start caring when you find out that components of fetal stem cells are used as natural flavouring. Yep! Forget scientific high ground, using stem cells for regrowing spinal cords or curing Parkinson’s…nope, manufacturers of process food are using them to control and manipulate you; finding better ways of seperating you from your cash.

Check this out. http://www.examiner.com/finance-examiner-in-national/is-the-food-you-buy-enhanced-with-flavors-derived-from-aborted-fetal-cells

I’m doing more research on this so stay tuned!

To learn more about dopamine, check out posts # 3, 18, and 22 or search dopamine in the search bar on the right hand of the screen.

http://www.sciencedaily.com/releases/2011/04/110408075150.htm#