again from Mountain Mecca & Hippie Heaven!
making hay. As you may have guessed, the sun is shining. You may have also
guessed, from the tardiness of this post, we are really, really, really, really
busy. I’m not complaining, I’m really not complaining…OK, I am complaining but
only because my hectic schedule and aching muscles have kept me from my beloved
frivolity of our New Denver camp trip, we jumped right back into the fray and
worked to complete our very first deck from scratch. Prez did all the designs,
applied for a permit, lost sleep worrying about whether the permit would be
approved, and eventually built a beautiful deck for the B&L (“Beers &
Lattes”) family. Of course he had a little help from me and our new employee,
DJ B. We calculated that we used about 2500 screws on this deck. If you think
putting a few screws in some wood is no big deal, try putting a few thousand
in! To quote DJ B, “I always thought screwing on a deck would be a lot more
this slaving away, it’s no wonder my thoughts recently, have been about the
carefree life we used to have and why we didn’t realize it was, in fact, so
carefree. I know Prez has these thoughts too, as evidenced by his ongoing
search for a winter job in the tropics. It’s hard not to remember how good
things “used to be” when you are digging your twelfth hole in rock-strewn
Kootenay soil. Yes, the grass is always greener, and hindsight is always 20/20.
cause for reflection is my 20 year highschool reunion which is only three
months away. Remember when school was a chore? Isn’t that funny now? I mean,
here we were with nothing to do but hang out with our friends all day and learn
a few things. No bills, no taxes, no worrying about the cost of gas, no planning
for retirement, no kids to take care of (well, no cats to take care of), no
holes to dig! We should have been waking up every morning with big poop-eating
grins on our faces, shouting “Yes! This is so awesome!!” But we didn’t, at
least I didn’t.
of junior high and highschool, are angst-ridden and, often, embarrassing. Did I
really think those giant, puffy shoulder pads were cool?? Wouldn’t it be great,
I sometimes think, if you could go back and do those years over with all the
knowledge you now possess? Or even if you could somehow travel back in time and
have a good long talk with your 13 year old self? How about just a letter, a
letter you could deliver through time? What would I write to that girl? Let’s
Hello from the future! Your predictions
are correct; we now all drive hover-cars, there are free ice-cream vending
machines on every corner, and we are happily married to David Bowie. OK, I made
all of that up. Things are basically the same except for the internet, and
might I suggest you start looking at the nerds in Computer Lab 101 a lot differently.
seriously, I want to have a heart-to-heart discussion with you, my younger
self, about what awaits us in the coming years. Hey, turn off that Walkman, I’m
trying to be philosophical here! Besides, all that loud music will damage your
hearing, and someday you will care about stuff like that, believe it or not.
know you think your life sucks but, honey, you got no idea how good you got it!
You think your parents are a pain in the butt? Wait until you have to deal with
Revenue Canada. Don’t like living in their
house under their stupid rules? Hey,
don’t worry, someday you will live in your own condo, and pay your own
mortgage, and your own phone bills, cable bills, hydro bills, property taxes,
repair & maintenance costs, strata fees, and all the zillion other expenses
involved in running a home. And five years later it will turn out to be a leaky
condo which you can’t give away if you try and you’ll be out almost
fifty-thousand dollars. You’ll also have your own car, cool huh? Actually,
you’ll have several and most will be total junk, and they’ll break down in
places and at times you least want them too. The tiny dribble of money you have
in your account for luxuries, like groceries, will be spent fixing these
rust-buckets. Fun, fun, fun!
words, stop complaining about your lack of freedom; you have tons of freedom,
you just don’t realize it.
about boys…sigh. By all means, have fun, date, draw those ridiculous squiggly
hearts with “K.M. + D.C.” all over your binder if you must, but please, please,
please do not take the opposite sex so seriously. I know it sounds like
a cliché to say “boys only want one thing” but the fact is, for the first,
oh…forty years of their life, they really do only want one thing. OK, maybe
that’s a slight exaggeration (no, not really) but the boys you’re dealing with
now are nothing but giant, walking lumps of hormones. The massive quantity of
testosterone racing through their bloodstream has a tendency to block out
higher thought and rational thinking. So, when a boy says, “I love you” he’s really saying “I want to have sex with you”. When he
says, “You are so pretty” he’s
saying, “I want to have sex with you”.
And when he says, “Excuse me, do you have
the time?” he’s saying, “I want to
have sex with you”.
time of your life is special, and you won’t figure out how special it is for another twenty years or so, but it is. You
have more blank pages than written ones right now. Every day you go to a
building where a group of adults are waiting to give you as much knowledge as
you want, for free – take advantage of this! After you graduate, you can go and
do, or be, anything you want, but for now just soak up all the education you
more time with Mom and Dad. I don’t want to hurt you but they won’t be around
forever and you will regret not doing more with them while they’re young and
healthy. (No, forty is not old!). Especially Mom. I know you don’t “get”
each other, and, yes, she can be a bit bossy but she loves you more than anyone
on the planet and always will. Not only does she love you, but she cares deeply
about the most mundane details of your life. There will come a day when you
reach for the phone to call someone about the fabulous sweater you got on sale
at the mall, only to realize there’s no one who really wants to hear about it.
You have two parents who love you, forget about winning the lottery, you
do me a favour and take a good look in the mirror. Stop frowning. I know what
you see – a greasy-haired, pimple-faced, buck-toothed loser. What a shame. You’re
a beautiful young girl, and I’m not just saying that because you’re me. I know
your hair goes flat when you try to feather it, your cover-up make-up only
seems to make your zits worse, and all the other girls seem so cute and
perfect, but you are pretty, you
really are. If you could only stop comparing yourself to everyone else – to
movie stars and models and that girl in homeroom all the boys drool over –
you’d see a healthy, blonde girl with a bright smile, and the cutest little
beauty-mark on the right side of her face. But, more importantly, you might
begin to see all the stuff beneath the surface, the stuff that really matters.
You’re smart, you laugh easily, you care about the planet, you’re creative, and
you’re kind. I promise you, if you can learn to see yourself from the inside
out, people will start to see you that way too.
guess I’ll let you get back to your/our life now. What other gems can I leave
you with? Um, buy shares in any of the following: Microsoft, Yahoo, Nintendo;
enjoy being able to eat three plates of roast beef & gravy & potatoes
without gaining a pound; learn to cook and do laundry (please!); ask Mom &
Dad to explain “balancing a cheque book” and “properly managing a credit card”;
keep singing (you’re not very good but it will always make you happy); ask Dad
to show you how to properly use power tools (trust me on this).
worrying about tomorrow, enjoy the moment!
those giant, puffy shoulder pads are not cool
What would be in your letter?
next week (or thereabouts), I hope this finds you healthy, happy & lovin’