The Thing Is…

Posted on June 30, 2006 by clubfredbaja

Hello…finally…from a Kozy place!

 
Boy I’ve missed you guys! Two whole weeks; how did that
happen?? Oh that’s right; I have a job and no life now. Sigh. The thing is, to
be honest, I did have two entire days off last weekend as my other half was out
scaring up the fish (or trying to anyway) but I decided to be a very, very good
girl and dedicate my free time to some long overdue “real” writing. Sorry, I
had to make a choice…but I still love you, you know that right?

 
So what’s been going on in my little cranium over the past
fortnight? Lots. (By the way, it saddens me that the term fortnight has fallen out of favour in the modern vernacular. It’s
far more potent than two weeks, don’t
you think?)

 
To start with, I went and had my breasts fondled by complete
strangers last week, i.e. I had an ultrasound and a mammogram, i.e. I had one
person taking pictures of my breasts and one person squishing them like
pancakes between two pieces of hard plastic. I’m lumpy, what can I say,
everyone has their faults. I found my first breast lump when I was twenty-one
and nearly fainted. My mom was going through cancer and I was terrified that I
had it. False alarm. Turns I’m susceptible to fibrous pal…er…um…I don’t
remember the technical word but it means, basically that you get these fibrous
lumps that come and go. Like I said, lumpy.

 
The thing is, it’s a little nerve wracking being lumpy
because you never really know when it’s just a “normal” lump and when it’s the
scary kind. Consequently, there are times when you might find me obsessively
feeling myself up. Trust me I’m not doing it for pleasure…all the time.
Seriously, my doc told me to keep track of the lumpy comings and goings of my
upper regions and to come in if I notice any significant changes. So in I went
last week. Monday I will get my results but I’m pretty sure everything will be
fine as the friendly ultrasound girl showed me all the pictures and said it
looked pretty OK in there. Whew.

 
I am a much bigger fan of the ultrasound girl than the
mammogram Nazi. Men, want to know kind of what it feels like to have a
mammogram? Go open your car door, place your hand on the door frame and then
have someone shut the door while saying, “OK, relax, relax, drop your
shoulders, don’t stand on your tip toes, no stop screaming, don’t lean forward,
relax!” I may exaggerate, but just a hair. So please don’t start whining about
a little finger up the bum once per year…puh-leeeeaaaase.

 
I kid but I feel incredibly fortunate to live in a place
where I can get screened for breast cancer in a timely manner and treated, if
necessary, without bankrupting myself. And for those of you out there – you
know who you are – who don’t go for your annual Private Parts Inspection, shame
on you!! Yes, it sucks to have strangers prodding us in our delicate places but
a little poke now could save a lot of unpleasantness down the road.

 
Next on the agenda is a blast from my past, a little ditty I
like to call, “You Can’t Go Back”. Recently, we have been doing a lot of jobs
back in my old ‘hood. My childhood was spent in a quiet, middle class suburb.
My house, when we moved in, was the end of the road. Deer, squirrel, pheasants
and more regularly traipsed through our backyard. There were orchards and
fields, an abandoned chicken farm up the road. We rode our bikes to Shum’s
Market for penny candy or, when I was older, walked the twelve blocks to 7-11
for a Slurpee, passing cows and the occasional horse grazing in a field along
the way. It was a perfect place to be a kid. Those days are gone.

 
Gone are the animals and open spaces, in their place Subway
and Home Depot, Sport Mart and cement. Barely a square inch remains that hasn’t
been consumed by consumerism. My little block of houses, which used to be so
well kempt and cared for, is dilapidated, dated, run down and sad.

 
I suppose I could mourn the loss of a way of life but, the
thing is, for better or for worse, things change, people change. If I loved
that place so much, why did I leave? Hmmm. I left because I wanted things that
perfect little corner of the world couldn’t offer me. And the woman I am now is
as altered as the landscape that the girl I was grew up in. She was a nice girl
but, given the choice, I wouldn’t trade who I am now to be who I was then. You
can’t go back…and you have to live with that.

 
I’ll wrap up with work, my new, all-consuming past time. The
parade of interesting characters continues which is equal parts delightful and
frustrating as I don’t have a spare moment to write about any of them as I’m so
bushed by the end of the day I barely have the strength to lift my martini
glass. (Please, feel free to shed a tear or two here). Our learning curve
during this first month is nearly vertical so things should get easier as we go
along. One of the greatest lessons thus far, however, has been that nothing is
simple.

 
Clients call us and explain how quick and easy the job is
going to be, “Oh, it’ll take you half an
hour at the most!”, but it is never quick and never easy. You see, the
thing is, that the customer has no idea what’s involved in the job (or they’d
be doing it themselves). Take the “quick and easy” fence repair we did for
Mr.Picky this week. Just three fence panels that needed to be lifted because of
some tree roots that were pushing them over – which turned into three panels and
posts that needed to be torn out, moved around the gigantic fir tree roots,
raised to almost nine or ten feet to block the view of the neighbour’s deck,
and customized to fill in the space at the bottom. This quick little job we
quoted for a half day (being generous) turned into a day and a half…and the
first day was almost eleven hours long!

 
I’m not whining, truly I’m not. Business is almost too good
to be true and we are slowly getting ourselves back on our tootsies again.
Besides, I keep a picture of a little beach in Fiji
in my brain to keep me going. And for every Mr.Picky hovering over our
shoulders demanding more and more there is a Mr. & Mrs. Gonzalez who are
grateful you have the time to fix their leaky faucet and who bid you goodbye
with a heartfelt, “Mi casa es su casa”.

 
Well folks, my battery is dying and tomorrow is not just Canada’s
birthday (Happy birthday Canuck Land!!!
We love you!!) but also another work day for the Prez and me. So Happy Canada
day to our friends from the north and Happy Fourth of July (in a few days) to
our southern amigos!

 
Until next week – yes I promise it will be just a week this
time – I hope this finds you healthy, happy & lovin’ life!

 
The Princess

 

Posted in Life | Leave a comment

Stuff to Do

Posted on June 17, 2006 by clubfredbaja

Hello again from a Kozy place!

There’s something important I need to get off my chest and
then we can proceed with this week’s Chronicle.

 
Pre-cooked bacon.

 
Pre-cooked bacon?

 
There is actually pre-cooked bacon, and pre-cooked sausage,
in the grocery store now. No I am not lying. What the hell is going on around
here??! You know what, if you don’t have time to cook your bacon you have
larger time management problems. Maybe you should stick to cereal. Standing, in
horror, in the meat aisle I felt like Charelton Heston in that last scene of Planet
of the Apes – “Damn filthy marketing
people!!”

 
So what’s next? Pre-chewed bacon? Pre-digested bacon? “You’re a busy person on the go, you don’t
have time to waste chewing and digesting breakfast. Try new ‘Ready-Poo’ – just
open up the package and drop it in the toilet!”

 
Aaaaaaaaaahhhhhhhh, I feel so much better for venting. Thank
you.

 
And now back to out regularly scheduled Chronicle already in
progress…

 
This week I am reminded of a line from the John Milton poem
"On His Blindness", “They also serve who only
stand and wait.”

 
On our new handyman venture I do a lot of that – standing
and waiting. Some jobs are just too cramped for more than one person, some too
technical for me, and some involve using tools that we only have one of. So I
stand and wait to pass tools, take measurements, help hold things, etc. It’s
not so bad when we’re on our own and it works well sometimes having a pair of
supervising eyes to catch mistakes before they happen. “Wrong way! Wrong way!!” (that was yesterday’s job, installing a
t-bar ceiling, and Prez putting the panel in upside down). It’s not so good,
however, when the home owner is on site watching and I somehow have to manage
to look like I am actually doing something important. At times like that I like
to grab a piece of paper and calculator and pretend to be calculating very
significant numbers.

 
I know my job as assistant is valuable; the Prez has said he
would not even consider doing this job without me but it sucks feeling useless.

 
Stunt work was like that too – a lot of waiting. You could
always tell from a stunt person’s girth how much work they had. Thin and buff =
lots of training, hours at the gym, many desperate phone calls to coordinators
begging for work. Fat or flabby = many twelve hour days sitting on set in a
room the size of a broom closet with access to all the Costco muffins your
little heart desires. Folks outside the business often think the hardest part
of stunt work must be the stunts, far from it. The hardest part was the
inactivity…and the wigs. Ooooooh I hate wigs.

 
Humans don’t do well without stuff to do. Humans without a
purpose become criminals, gossipers, Amway sales people, marketing people that
invent pre-cooked bacon…and writers. Scary.

 
One of the factors, I think, that made the Prez &
Princess wedding so enjoyable was that we let everyone get as involved as they
wanted to. **NOTE: Once again, I am in no way implying that anyone else’s
wedding, especially if it was a traditional wedding, was not enjoyable. Well
done you for having a traditional wedding! (Still covering my butt)** I used to
think that being a good host meant doing everything
so that your guests could relax. Whether we were hosting a barbeque or out for
a day’s fishing, I’d run around like a mad woman trying to make sure everything
was absolutely tickety-boo while my guests sat with polite, yet bored, smiles
on their faces. I’ve since learned that it’s much more fun and much less
stressful to share the load and give guests “stuff to do”.

 
Earlier this week we quoted a job on deck repair for a
subsidized senior’s building. To inspect the decks we had to cross through
several units, saying a polite “excuse me” to the elderly residents as we went.
What I saw gave me pause. Was this an apartment complex or just a quiet place
for lonely people waiting to die? Each of the small rooms was crammed full of
“stuff”- photographs of friends and loved ones, keepsakes, plants, etc. And
each held a solitary resident, standing and waiting for the end to come with no
“stuff to do”. Is this what it comes down to? We work and save all our lives
just to end up sitting and waiting, alone in a little box? Scary and sad.

 
It never fails, every time I think I’m happy finally kind of
settling down in one spot with a “real” job, I see something that reminds me
what life is really about, how much there is out there, how much stuff there is
to do. The handyman biz is great, the money is good, the hours are long, but we
are our own bosses and that means we can go away when we want. Prez and I have
talked it over and we’ll probably head off somewhere in the winter. Maybe Baja
or maybe??? We’ve been talking about backpacking Fiji
but our minds are always, thank goodness, open.

 
So I’m going to wrap this up because I’m a working gal now
and my time has become very precious.

 
And I have stuff to do.

 
Until next week, I hope this finds you healthy, happy &
lovin’ life!

 The Princess

 

 

Posted in Life at Work | 5 Comments

Helping the Handy-capped

Posted on June 7, 2006 by clubfredbaja

Hello again from a Kozy place!


Because of my dad, I grew up believing that all men should
be able to fix or build just about anything. Using only common sense and a few
tools, Dad could throw together a deck, build a shoe rack, knock out a wall,
and much more – with minimal trips to the emergency room. And he was not an
anomaly; most folks I knew growing up were fairly handy around the house.


I bring up this subject because the Prez and I have decided
to go into the Handy Man business. How good is business? Well, we put the ad in
the paper last week and already we have far too many jobs. The phone will not
stop ringing. It has gotten to the point where I now tell people that it will
be at least two weeks before we can even get around to give them a quote! All
this in a week. People are desperate for help, no one has so much as even
questioned our $350 daily fee for labour yet – we could probably ask more I am
certain. Many of the calls are for jobs as simple as fixing a leaky faucet or
hanging blinds.


True, I am no whiz around the work bench. My first foray
into the Do-It-Yourself Zone was when The Ex and I decided to renovate our
living room. I thought I’d be a big help by tackling a few of the jobs on my
day off…all by myself. Ex had explained to me that before we could paint we
needed to do a little prep and this included hammering down any nails that were
pulling away on the walls and adding some new nails to tighten up the drywall
to the studs. With hammer and nails in hand, I cheerfully set about the task of
fortifying our castle walls! I was not cheerful for long. Ex had demonstrated
the nailing technique to me and it seemed to be so easy yet here I was with almost a half dozen bent and disfigured
nails jutting out of the wall. Frustrated and cranky I called up Ex at work to
ask him what I was doing so wrong. My first clue was the utter confusion in his
voice when he said, “What nails??? I
haven’t bought the nails yet!” Turns out the railroad tie sized nails I’d
dug up in the garage were not quite the size needed for the job; who knew?


It’s the thought that counts right?


Well, I’d like to think I’ve improved a little since then…
but I haven’t really. The expression on my face while I’m watching the Prez
effortlessly build or repair something must be similar to the face of a caveman
if you traveled back in time, popped open a laptop and started surfing the
internet with him. I am perplexed and awestruck by people who know a) how to
fix things b) which tools to use and c) are able to use those tools with a
modicum of dexterity. And I’m not alone. I am not the only Handy-capped person
in town.


In seven days we have been thanked innumerable times for
bringing our Handy-ness to those in need.


**Let me just make something perfectly clear here – Prez is
the Handy Person. I do all the paperwork, make appointments, keep us organized,
run errands, pass tools, help lift and support things, clean up, and try to
follow instructions. Although I have been using the wet saw to cut tiles which
is very exciting! Also, I still have all fingers and thumbs, that’s a good
sign.**


The relationship between customer and Handy Person is one of
intimacy and trust. When someone lets you, a complete stranger carrying sharp
cutting implements and hammers, into their home, they are saying, “I am so deeply in need of help that I will
invite deadly tool wielding strangers into my home and even offer them
refreshments!” Add to this the fact that they are going to bare their most
hideous flaws to you, “Look, I have an
old and disgusting linoleum floor, please be kind”, and you can see very
clearly that the Handy Person holds an almost god-like position in our society.


The homes we have been in and the people who live in them
have been the highlight of the job, so far, for me. Friendly, Fijian Mr.Hafiz
was our very first customer. He lamented his small backyard garden (the one he
had in Fiji was huge but he and his wife wanted to live closer to their children who moved from Fiji to Surrey
(someone please explain this to me!). His sundeck roof needed replacing and so
Prez braved some rickety heights to do so.


Helen is glad to be divorced. Her husband of many years was
a drunk, a druggie and a bum. Tears came to her eyes as she told of how happy
she was to have finally woken up and stepped off the hamster wheel. She was so
pleased that we were there to help organize her garage and set up shelving for
her just like she had in her old house.


Gail likes bears. She likes bears a lot. She has hundreds of
them in a glass display cabinet. Come to think of it, Gail had a lot of
everything, everywhere, and a thermostat that seemed to be locked at Face of
the Sun Degrees Celsius. Prez and I sweated through a re-tiling job in her
kitchen while simultaneously trying to avoid lung cancer from her husband and
brother’s second hand smoke. Oh yes, and Dan, her husband, likes to have a
glass of rum each day around three or four
o’clock – just a little fact for you.


We delivered good and bad news to Barbara. Good – we were
able to raise her cabinets quickly and easily. Bad – the problem with the door
on her very expensive new fridge is that someone obviously dropped it during
shipping and the bottom is smashed in and un-fixable. Ouch!


Adil’s sister will have a lovely engagement party now that
the deck is fixed. The only thing holding it up was wishful thinking. Note: it
rains a lot in BC and putting un-treated wood support posts directly into the
dirt is like building your house out of sugar – it may seem like a good idea at
the time but after enough rain you will have nothing left.


We loved the giant, organic apples Lise gave us as a snack.
She has a leopard print bedspread, a Yorkshire terrier named Baboo, and a
husband who is so quiet he may possibly be the quietest person I’ve ever met.


Shirley was scary. “You
come here, look at this! Tell me how fix this! I going to cut down that stupid,
stupid plant, it’s moisting all the wood!”

I guess the only drawback to all this work is that I have
once again fallen behind on my beloved Chronicles. Well, a girl’s gotta eat.


And speaking of eating, one of the perks of living below
Titanium Chef Kozak is being within prime sampling distance of his many
culinary creations. Yum. Yep, we’re pretty cozy in our Kozy place or as I like
to call it our “home away from Home Depot”.


Until next week (well, hopefully this Saturday!), I hope
this finds you healthy, happy & lovin’ life!

The Princess

Posted in Life at Work | 3 Comments

In Sickness and in Health

Posted on May 26, 2006 by clubfredbaja

Hello from a Kozy place!

Slap my fingers for being so tardy! I’m sick again. Can you
believe it? It seems like just yesterday that I recovered from the Malaysian
Wombat Hack Your Lungs Up Flu and mere days within arriving back in BC I am
struck down by the Canadian Bowel-Twisting Mega-Nausea Super Tired Virus. Ugh.
Poor Prez, if his wife isn’t burping, farting, coughing, locked in the bathroom
for hours, or curled up in a ball writhing in pain, she is asleep. What a
trooper. Gold Stars for the Prez!

Oh yes, you may have noticed that I mentioned we are back in
BC. Vegas. Tee Hee. Oops. Thankfully what happens in Vegas stays in Vegas
right? Right?!

No it didn’t work out as planned, but then, what usually
does? The trip north was largely uneventful except for the truck completely
dying in the middle of the desert. Luckily I am married to MacGyver – more gold
stars for Prez. We were welcomed home, yet again, by the ever patient and
hospitable Martha & Patty-Cakes Roney. And now we have been granted
temporary tenant status in Zone 5 of the lower wing of the Kozak mansion by our
dear friends the Culinarily Cunning Kozy and the Technologically Talented
Tweeter. Muchas Gracias a todos nos amigos!

So here we are, long past Plan B, probably approaching Plan
Q.

A wise Austrian woman once said to me: “If you think you love someone and you want to be sure, ask yourself if
you would be willing to care for them every day for the rest of your life if,
for example, they became a paraplegic or came down with a serious illness”.
The trick to this question is to answer it honestly. Most of us, in the
throes of passion, would immediately say, “Of
course I would care for him/her for the rest of my life!” without realizing
exactly how much of a commitment that would be. Let’s face it; I can barely
live with myself with the flu for a few weeks!

Now, the Prez and I did not have a traditional wedding
(**please note** I am not, repeat not
criticizing traditional weddings. Traditional weddings are great! If you had a
traditional wedding, I’m sure it was marvelous and if I was there I’m sure it
was the best wedding I’ve ever been too. There, I think I covered my butt this
time.)…now where was I? Oh yes, the vows. Now despite the fact that our
non-traditional vows did not include the whole “for richer or for poorer, in
sickness and in health” bit it is still a statement that I feel applies to all
marriages. If you are not prepared to stick it out when the external stuff gets
ugly, when life throws you one of the many, many curve balls it likes to throw,
then cut your losses, cancel the hall and the DJ, and stick to serial monogamy.

In our nearly eight years together, the Prez and I have had
more ups and downs than a Cancun hotel room during
Spring Break. I know that my many mysterious maladies over the past three years
have driven him around the bend. I’ll never forget the look on his face the
first time I had a full blown endometrial melt down. We were in Mexico,
half an hour from the nearest hospital and no guarantees that they could help
me once I got there. If not for the Tylenol-3’s and Oxycocets we were able to
hoard from prior injuries, I don’t know what I would have done. But even with a
belly full of pain killers, I was on all fours barely able to breathe through
the pain. The helplessness I saw in Prez’s eyes was worse, though, than any
physical suffering. It is a look I have come to know far too well.

Three years in various states of discomfort, sickness &
pain have taken their toll as much on Prez as on me – perhaps more so. The
frustrating part is that I’m a pretty health conscious person. I don’t smoke, I
exercise, I eat well, and I keep the martinis to a minimum (oh sweet
life-giving fluid!) and still I seem to get hit with every virus within a
hundred miles, and get hit HARD. It’s as if my immune system went out for a
newspaper in 2003 and just never came back. It’s to the point where I dread
saying those four little words to Prez – “I
don’t feel well”.

But, get your gold stars ready, he’s hanging in there, being
as kind and helpful as possible while secretly wishing (I am sure) that we had
one of those Star Trek thingys that you scan up and down the persons body a few
times and it tells you exactly what’s wrong with them and how to fix it.

So we’re in the sickness
part of the “in sickness and in health” vow.

We also happen to be in the poorer part of “richer or poorer” vow.

See, things almost never turn out the way you expect them
to.

When I say “poorer” that’s pretty relative. We are still
very wealthy, and very lucky, compared to the rest of the world, we’re just not
living at the standard we thought we’d be. The worst part is not doing without;
the worst part is having to rely on friends for help. As it turns out, the best
return we’ve gotten on any investment over the years is with our friends. They
have come to our rescue in so many ways it will take a lifetime to repay them.
We are so thankful everyday for the people we love. But it’s still hard, when
you’re used to being the one who hosts the parties, the one who puts up guests
in the spare room, the one who buys the gifts and pays for dinner, it’s hard to
ask for help. And although I know we would do the same, and more, for any of
our friends in a heart beat, I can’t help feeling that we’ve let them all down,
that we’re a disappointment.

I know the Prez and I are feeling pretty low right now,
about as low as we’ve ever felt. Even as we take the steps to rebuild our life,
constantly reminding ourselves that others have come back from much worse,
there is a kind of melancholy in the air. Every now and then I’ll notice that
we’re both just staring out into the distance, lost in our thoughts, and I’ll
think, well, at least we have each other.

That’s the great thing about real love, that’s the reason
those rich/poor/sick/health vows were ever written, at the end of the day what
matters is that no matter what you have gained or lost you hang onto each
other.

I love my husband beyond words. Sick, healthy, rich, poor,
whatever. As long as we have each other, we have everything we need.

In the silence of this
whispered night
I listen only to your breath
and in that second of a shooting star
somehow it all makes sense.
And I want all the world to know
that your love’s all I need
all that I need
and if we’re lost
then we are lost together

–Blue Rodeo “Lost
Together”

Until next week, I hope this finds you healthy, happy &
lovin life…no matter what it throws at you!

The Princess

Posted in Love | 3 Comments

Sin on the Strip – Greed

Posted on May 12, 2006 by clubfredbaja

Hello again from the city of sin!



“Count your blessings,
one, two, three

I just hate keeping score.

Any number is fine with me

As long as it’s more

As long as it’s more!” – Madonna “More”

GREED: the desire for material wealth or gain,
ignoring the realm of the spiritual.

Now here’s a sin I am intimate with. Been there, done that,
bought the overpriced t-shirt. In Las Vegas,
there is no shortage of greed on
both sides of the table.

On one side we have the gamblers, good folks mostly, just
like you and me, who have come for a little fun and hopefully (oh, please,
please, please) the chance to go home with a fortune. On the other side, the
Casinos, those monoliths of capitalism at its worst, who do everything short of
hooking up a vacuum hose to the wallets of their guests to get as many pesos as
possible. Who’s the bad guy in this picture? We all are. We are drawn together
by our greed.

After so many Chronicles standing up on my soapbox, wagging
my finger, I thought it was time I turned the accusing eye inward. I’m greedy; I’ll be the first to admit it. Blame
it on the fact that I was the baby of the family and spoiled rotten, or the
fact that I spent ten years in a business that encouraged it, or just good old
human nature, whatever, it doesn’t matter; I am greedy. It takes a conscious effort on my part to control my desire
to have more. I fight the bear. Sometimes I win. Sometimes the bear
wins. But I fight; I sincerely hope that counts for something.

The thing about greed
is it’s insidious. When I was working for minimum wage, subsisting at just
above poverty level, I would dream of how wonderful it would be to win even ten
thousand dollars – oh the things I would do, the fun I would have! Years later,
when my tax bill alone was over thirteen thousand, I dreamed of how wonderful
it would be to be a millionaire, or even better a multi-millionaire (a million
bucks just doesn’t go that far these days)!! And had my income continued to
climb, so too would have the dollar figures of my dreams. Now? Well I still
dream but I’ve learned a few hard lessons about being happy with and
appreciating what you have.

I am a gambler by nature. I take risks that many would not
and as a result I have had thrilling highs and despondent lows. Vegas is
probably the worst place in the world for a person like me to be, believe me I
know it. My savior, what keeps me grounded, keeps me here in our little studio
listening to the birds and watching the swaying palms instead of hurling myself
headlong into the lights and the palm sweating action of the casino are words.
Beautiful, humble, satisfying, words. Whether I am writing or reading them,
they have the power to keep the monster of greed
chained and quiet. How I love the written word!

There are many people out there, thank goodness, who can’t
understand gambling, especially how you can lose and just keep going, keep
losing hundreds, thousands of dollars. It is GREED. You are at the blackjack table, you’ve won a hundred dollars
in a little less than an hour and you could walk away but Greed whispers in your ear, C’mon
you can win another hundred dollars, look
how easy it is! So you tell
yourself that as soon as you win another hundred you’ll leave. But you don’t
win, you start to lose. At this point you can still walk away ahead but Greed is still calling the shots, you can get it back! Now you tell
yourself that as soon as you get back to that original hundred you will leave
no matter what. But you keep losing, and now you have lost all of that hundred.
You can still leave and be even. Well
that’s stupid? What a waste of time, you didn’t come here to sit around for two
hours and walk out even did
you? And now you start to lose your own money. Pretty soon you’re down a
hundred and you start to go on tilt because you have to get that hundred back. Greed has deserted you in your time of
need and left Desperation to talk you through things. Desperation, as you will soon discover, is a nutcase, urging you to
throw dollar after dollar away to chase down the money you have already lost.
Whether you meet them at the casino, or in the stock market, on the job, in a
pyramid scheme, or at multi-level marketing meeting, Greed and Desperation
are never too far from each other waiting to play you like a cheap violin.

Humans are greedy;
somehow we (most of us) are wired up to want more, more, more even at the cost
of our own well being. Greed clouds
the mind, makes you focus on the very short term. When all of our wild spaces
are paved, when we sit in our luxury condos looking out over not forest but
simply more luxury condos, will we suddenly wake up and realize what we’ve
done? What we’ve taken away from our children and their children?

I am going to ask for your help in a moment, and it is not a
request I make lightly. But first, let me tell you about the Kootenays.

One of the qualities I love most about British
Columbia, my home, is that we have fought to keep our
wilderness. Sure there’s lots of dough to be made by exploiting the environment
but, thankfully, enough folks have been farsighted enough to recognize the
intrinsic value of nature. Many would say, and I am inclined to agree, that
we’ve already done more damage than we should have. The Kootenays in South
Eastern BC are a jewel in the crown of our province, our country and the world.
This area is home to five mountain ranges, an inland rainforest (a very rare
eco system), hot springs, and endangered
wildlife including the majestic grizzly. Without exception, every person I have
ever spoken to, from anywhere in the world, who has visited or passed through
the Kootenays has declared the area one of the most beautiful places on the
entire earth – I agree.

Enter Greed…

Oberto Oberti, a private investor is trying to get 6000
hectares of land in the Jumbo Valley
turned into private land so that he can build a ski resort. Now, I’m not
against ski resorts, I don’t think anybody is, but let’s look at the facts. There
are already lots of ski resorts in the area that aren’t even operating at full
capacity – do we really need one more? The investor does not want to go through
local channels for approval, why? Because the overwhelming majority of local
residents do NOT want this development. I’m sure there are plenty of statistics
on both sides demonstrating why this resort would be good or bad but the bottom
line, as far as I’m concerned, is that this land belongs to the people and the
people don’t want the resort. It is the residents of Invermere who will be
shouldering the cost of the roads that must be built and maintained, waste
disposal, avalanche control, and more, for millions of dollars. Oberto Oberti,
the man who wants to build this resort, is not driven by a love of the land,
the wildlife, or the people who live there. He doesn’t care about the financial
or environmental impacts of his monstrosity. No, let’s be real, he wants to
build a lot of expensive condos and make a lot of money. His number one partner
is GREED.

Sadly, the Provincial government approved the Jumbo Resort
project. But just when it seemed that all was lost, that Greed would triumph, there is a glimmer of hope! Final approval of
the project rests in the hands of the Regional District and they have put off
making their decision until this fall in order to hear more public input (no
doubt due to the overwhelming opposition). And now, here is my humble request…

Please, first visit Jumbo Wild for more information (I would never
ask anyone to blindly support a cause). Second, please email or write to the
Regional District of the East Kootenay Board to let them know that you do not
support this project. As my good friend Glen (who drew my attention to this
issue – thank you Glen!) told me, non-residents who write to say “we would visit your area to see
wilderness but not a ski resort” will be a huge help.

Email: jumbo@rdek.bc.ca (remember to keep it brief and polite)

Snail Mail: Regional District of the East Kootenay Board
19- 24th Ave South
Cranbrook , BC
Canada V1C 3H8

And if you have any
questions please, please don’t hesitate to email me or to post a comment. I
know together we can stop Greed from
destroying something truly rare and beautiful.

And visit the Kootenays, you’ll love it there!

Well, my latest book is calling (“Reading Lolita in Tehran”
a true story by Azar Nafisi, awesome, awesome, awesome!!!!) and I am greedy for
more words so…

Until next week, I hope this finds you healthy, happy &
lovin’ life!

KEEP JUMBO WILD!!

The Princess

Posted in Travel | 1 Comment

Sin on the Strip – Gluttony

Posted on May 5, 2006 by clubfredbaja

Hello again from the city of sin!

Like
I said last week, of the Seven Deadly Sins you can find eight here in
Las Vegas. This week, let’s talk about a biggie…pun definitely intended…GLUTTONY.

Gluttony: An inordinate desire to consume more than that which one needs.

For my purposes, let’s deal with gluttony where it concerns food.

I
know there has been some controversy lately over the American National
Anthem being re-written into Spanish and I hate to fuel the fire but
I’ve come up with a little re-write of my own that I think is overdue.
Here’s the first verse…

Oh please don’t weigh me

It could cause quite a fright.

When I step on the scale

You might run away screaming.

Oh
stop, I’m not bashing the U.S., believe me Canada is doing it’s best to
catch up to the obesity statistics south of the border. (Canada-
Leading the world in being just north of the United States!). But folks
the harsh truth is that America has the highest prevalence of obesity
among all developed nations. And nowhere is that more obvious than any
afternoon on the Las Vegas strip!

On our former Vegas weekend junkets, the Prez and I used to play a game called “Find the Fattest Person”. This game is tough, not because it is hard to find really overweight people here, but because there are so many it is hard to decide on the biggest of all. And why not? This is the land of the buffet! ALL YOU CAN EAT!!

Think about that for a moment – all you can eat. Not “enough food to satisfy” or “lots of food” or even “enough food to make you really full”, no, the buffet is all you can eat; as much food as you can stuff into your gullet without inducing a coma or death (we hope).

How many good, Christian Americans are committing the sin of Gluttony every day? Well, let’s look at the stats from the Center for Disease Control. As of 2005:

– 65% of Americans are overweight

– 32% of Americans are obese

– 17% of children in America are overweight

– 3.8 million Americans weigh 300lbs or more

– 400, 000 Americans weigh 400lbs or more

Ouch!
I mean forget the ethical and social implications of millions of people
eating so much that they are obese while millions, make that billions,
of people are starving and just consider the health ramifications.
Obesity is responsible for over 300,000 deaths per year and those
statistics continue to grow in epidemic proportions. Childhood obesity
has tripled in the last two decades! Obesity is linked to
diabetes, heart disease, liver disease, some kinds of cancer, and
arthritis among other things. Gun control? We need hamburger control.
War on terrorism? How about a war on Gluttonism?

Some of you, those who know me, may be thinking, Sure, easy for you to point the finger skinny girl, you don’t have to worry about getting fat. You’re
right…and wrong. I do have genetics on my side, no doubt about that. My
dad used to say I had a hollow leg and called me Skinny Minnie when I
was a kid. My appetite was huge and I could eat and eat and eat without
gaining a pound (feel free to curse me as you read this). Even after I
was diagnosed as hypo-thyroid at the age of thirteen, I never gained
much weight. Then (cue the ominous music) I turned twenty-five and my
metabolism came to a screeching halt. Oh I was still eating as much as
always but the bod was not burning it off. In 1997 I weighed in at
almost 145lbs…you may think that’s no big deal except for the fact that
I had never been over 120lbs. I had put on 25lbs, one fifth of my body
weight, while still exercising every day.

I’m
lucky. I’ve always been active and somewhat self conscious of my body;
putting on 25lbs was enough for me to realize that the days of the
buffet were over, I needed to make some changes or I would end up as
one of those CDC stats. This is what it comes down to, what so many
things in life come down to – personal responsibility. And while I know
that there are folks out there, some that I know and love, who can do
everything right, eat well, exercise, and still not lose weight, I
think the majority of those who are overweight (especially those under
the age of thirty) simply refuse to take responsibility for their own
health. Yes the salad is not as tasty as the hamburger and fries (well,
personally, I loooooooove a good salad!) but good health is a lot more
fun than heart disease, isn’t it?

The
irony of Las Vegas is that it is a great place to eat out if you are
health conscious and disciplined. Prez and I were at Caesars a few days
ago and they’ve got this awesome salad joint where you pay a set price,
get a massive quantity of lettuce and then you can add on all the
toppings you like for about $8.00. It is so big that we can both eat
one salad, be stuffed, and still have enough leftovers to take home! In
fact, at pretty much any restaurant here we only have to order one meal
and split it because the portions are so gargantuan.

Which reminds me of a funny story…

On a
previous trip here we stopped to eat in one of the casino restaurants
and ordered a salad to split between the two of us. We made sure to ask
for the dressing on the side. The meal arrived. The salad came in a
bowl about the same size as one I would use to serve salad at a dinner
party for six and the dressing was in a full sized gravy boat. Prez
said, “Oh no, we’re going to need more dressing!” We thought it was an obvious joke but the server started to leave to grab us some more. “No! No, we’re just kidding!”
We called after her, laughing and explained that there was no way we,
or anyone, could ever use that much dressing without turning the salad
into a soup. “Oh no” she said, deadly serious, “Most folks use all of that”. Wow. Using an entire bottle of dressing pretty much defeats the whole purpose of the salad doesn’t it?

So
what’s the solution? Is there a solution? Sure, eat less, eat
healthier, and get more exercise. Simple right? Uh huh. Without getting
too “X-Files/conspiracy theory” on you, may I just say that chances are
things aren’t going to change. Why?

After
leaving the Clark County Library a few days ago, my mouth still agape
from all the rows and rows and rows of books (can you smell the
knowledge? Yummy!), I turned to the Prez and said, “You know what’s wrong with America? The buffets are full and the library is empty.”

You see the thing is, the people who really
run this country (and mine), who make the decisions and control your
life – big corporations – want the status to remain quo, thank you very
much. For the Gluttonous corporate machine to keep
chugging along, the people at the top need the majority of people
(those in the middle) to be fat and happy. Just smart enough and
healthy enough to work the cash register, press a few buttons, and wish
the customers a nice day, but not so smart and healthy that they get
motivated and begin to question the mounds of crap we are being fed in
our mouths, ears, and eyes on a daily basis.

“But if we’re obese and get too sick to work then doesn’t that hurt the big corporations?”
you may ask. Ah, true but then there are all those kind and
compassionate drug companies out there with all sorts of miracle
treatments like Celebrex* and Lipitor* and stuff like that…for a small
fee of course.

*Side
effects may include, but are not limited to: dry mouth, coughing,
tennis elbow, bleeding from the eyes, frequent bowel movements,
constipation, ebola virus, avian flu, turrets syndrome, loss of
perspective, shame, sudden urges to audition for American Idol,
depression, genital warts, loss of appetite, loss of your sense of self
worth, death, facial tics.

I
don’t mean to sound so grim or to leave you with a sense of
hopelessness; perhaps nothing can be done on a large scale but on a
small scale? Sure, of course it can. So, how to defeat our inner glutton?

#1
– Turn off the television – I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again
and again. Go for a walk, ride a bike, swim, jog, play some hopscotch,
whatever, just pull yourself off the glass teat for at least an hour a
day and go get some exercise!

#2 – Avoid the buffets, the All-You-Can-Eats, the 6 for 1 pizzas. Focus on quality not quantity.

#3 –
Stop eating before you are full. Don’t wait until you feel mildly ill
to put down the fork, it takes about twenty minutes for your body to
register how much you’ve eaten so if you feel full then you are really,
really, really full.

#4 –
Sugar is the enemy! Of course you want to limit your intake of “white
death” (processed sugar) but remember that breads, pastas, and many
sauces and spices are sugar too. Fruit juice, even 100% fruit juice, is
high in sugar (just ask any dentist). Repeat after me: vegetables are
my friends, vegetables are my friends, vegetables are my friends…

And if you come to Vegas, plan to share a meal with a friend and save your money for something really important…like gambling!

"Donuts, is there anything they can’t do?" – Homer Simpson

Until next week, I hope this finds you all healthy, happy & lovin’ life!

The Princess

Posted in Travel | 3 Comments

Tales From the Road – “Surprize on the Road to Sin”

Posted on May 1, 2006 by clubfredbaja

Hello from the city of sin!

Of the seven so-called “Deadly Sins” you can find at least
eight here in Las Vegas. This place
is an adult’s playground; a place where inhibitions, morals, and ethics are
checked at the door. And this is our new home…for at least the next four weeks,
possibly longer.


What kind of crazy path has lead the Prez and I, professed
big city shunners and quasi-environmentalists to this den of iniquity? One
word: Poker. This trip is an experiment of sorts. The Prez is going to give professional
poker a whirl and seeing as the World Series of Poker (yes, the one on TV)
kicks off at the end of June we figured heck, let’s roll the dice baby! (Pun
intended).

Now you’re probably thinking one of two things. #1- Wow, these guys are out there! What a wild
life they lead! Sign me up!! or, more likely, #2 – That is the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard. Are they nuts?!


Is this stupid? Maybe. Crazy? Probably. But this wasn’t a
decision made on a whim, nor are we oblivious to the risks. The Prez is a card
playin’ fool, true, but he’s also a dedicated card playin’ fool. Despite the
fact that I am more than slightly stressed right now about this career choice,
I know that Prez possesses the two critical traits needed to be a world class
poker player: mathematical acumen and guts. And he’s taking this very
seriously, training, studying, strategizing. He’s also being realistic; success
is not to be expected overnight, it may not come at all and limits must be set.
And you just can’t ignore the fact that luck plays a part in this…so I hope you
wish him some!

So let’s rewind back to the road, the literal one not the
figurative one, that brought us here…

We spent a wonderful two weeks in the luxurious Prez &
Princess Suite of Casa de Roney in Port Coquitlam.
Well, to be honest, our stay with Martha and Patty-Cakes was the only really
good part of those two weeks (see the last Chronicle for details) but
thankfully our time with them is always so special that even Revenue Canada,
the flu, abusive collection agency people, and wanton vehicle vandalizers
couldn’t bring us down! (Thanks again guys – we love you!)

The truck was unpacked and re-packed, accommodations booked,
routes charted, Emily grudgingly loaded into the backseat, and we were on our
way south once more. Our route was identical to the one we took in 2003 on our
drive to Florida – Washington, Oregon, Idaho, Utah – until we arrived at Salt
Lake City where we would veer west instead of east. Virgin road! Yummy!! We made it as far as Utah
the first night and were pleasantly surprised by a nice room at the low rate of
$39 US. Of course we didn’t mention Emily. Sure there are pet friendly places
out there but when you’ve been on the road for almost thirteen hours you do not
want to risk being turned away from a hot shower and a cozy bed. Besides, I’d
be willing to bet that my cat makes less of a mess and is much quieter than 90%
of the kids that stay in these places.

Day one was a success not only because the drive went
smoothly and the weather was decent but also because we stuck to our vow and
ate only the healthy food we packed. Day two would see us falling off the wagon
and into a Burger Thing (I’m not even going to mention Prez’s gas station
burrito as I don’t want to embarrass him). Day two does however win the prize
for most interesting day.

I’d like to take just a moment to talk about road-tripping
as a couple here. There is no better test of a couple’s compatibility than the
multi-day Road Trip. Prez and I have passed the test. We have spent hours and
hours on the road, with animals, driving a large truck and towing a large boat,
in a foreign country, and we have not, thus far, killed each other. This does
not mean that every moment spent in the truck is now a joy, please, let’s be
real, but it has gotten easier. Here’s an actual transcript from a moment
during our latest journey, somewhere in Utah
I think…

Me: Cough, cough,
cough, hack, cough, COUGH, COUGH!!!

Emily: (pacing from the back seat to the front) Meow! Meow, meow, meow, meow!

Prez: Great, I think
she has to go.

Me: Cough, cough,
ahem…cough. No she doesn’t, she would
have gone…cough, cough…at the last stop.

Prez: I thought that
medicine was supposed to stop your cough?!

Emily: Meow, meow,
MEEEEEEEOOOOOOW!

Prez: God, between the
two of you…

Me: You think I’m
enjoying this???!!! Cough, cough, cough, cough.

Prez: I know, I know.
I’m sorry.

Me: Hey look, cows.
Moo. Moooooooooo.

I think you get the idea. Now back to the Chronicle already
in progress…

Utah’s a
freaky little state. It’s a nice state, very clean, but freaky too. Can’t put
my finger on it. I remember my first visit there as a young girl. My mom had
tried to explain to me what a Mormon was. Among the facts she gave me was the
one about them not drinking Coke because caffeine was against their religion (I
bet that’s why they all have such nice teeth) and this sent me into a panic
because I thought that I was not going to be allowed to drink Coke
either (important stuff to a nine year old). So maybe, thanks to the Mormon
thing, Utah and I just got off on
the wrong foot. But then the Prez and I pulled into one of the Utah
rest areas and here were all these people, dressed up in their best clothes
with perfectly styled hair, grinning those big, Coke-free, Mormon smiles,
saying hello to us with genuine enthusiasm, unlike any typical rest area users.
From the look Prez gave me I knew I was not the only one having a creepy,
Stepford wives kind of moment.

Utah, however,
has some incredible scenery. Our last time through, we practically drove off
the highway oooooooh-ing and aaaaaaaah-ing our way through Moab with it’s
brilliant red-rock canyons melting around us like a Salvador Dali painting.
This time, more canyons, stunning not just for their colours and shape but also
for their immensity.

Past Salt Lake City,
Highway 15 heads southwest to Nevada
(cutting through a tiny section of Arizona
as well). I had fully prepared myself for a flat, boring drive (I had a book
and lots of CD’s) but most of 15 was hilly with scrubby vegetation, not at all
what I imagined. And we were high too! Almost 7000 feet high, to be exact, at
one point. Now, I knew that Vegas is high desert at two thousand and something
feet above sea level, but I never thought that we would be driving at almost a
mile and a half above sea level on this trip. As we approached Lake
Mead the terrain became more and more amazing. Mesas, canyons,
rock formations were everywhere.

And then we were in canyon heaven.

Holy moly! We suddenly found ourselves winding our way right
through the most spectacular canyons we’ve ever seen. And as our altitude
dropped, the walls around us became steeper and steeper. Once again, we were
perilously close to driving off the road as we craned our necks to take in all
this majesty. What a treat what and unexpected pleasure! It went on and on.
Every time we entered a curve, I expected to see a vast flat plain but instead
there were only more rock walls, stretching to the sky. Wow.

Of course, it all did end eventually but that piece of
highway alone made the entire drive worthwhile.

With five states under our belt, we crossed into Nevada
with a decision to make. The studio suite we’d rented wouldn’t be ready until
the next evening soooooooo….we could stay in Mesquite (that’s a town) where the
rooms are cheap or push through to Las Vegas and hope we could actually find a
room on a Friday night. Mesquite
was the frontrunner until the gas station. Yep, one fill up at a dirty petrol
facility with severely sketchy looking characters loitering about and we were
ready to take our chances in Vegas. Super 8 Motel here we come!

I’m not going to get to crazy about Vegas just yet, this
city and my myriad of feelings about it will require more than a couple of
paragraphs. I will tell you though that we are settled in to a lovely little
studio suite about five minutes from the strip. The suite is part of a larger
house (but completely private) located in a well maintained, older
neighbourhood. Our host, Jim, has lived here for forty years and was an
entertainer back in the city’s prime. And though he is grey and wrinkled, it is
easy to look at Jim and imagine a debonair young man dressed to the nines,
crooning Sinatra tunes. I look forward to getting to know him and hearing more
about the “old” Vegas. The house is a rancher and backs onto a golf course. Our
suite has a large sliding glass door and it’s own porch – there is also a large
swimming pool which I know we’ll be getting good use out of as temps have been
in the 90’s the last few days!

Right now the Prez is at work and I am where I plan to be
for at least the next month – sitting with my laptop, writing. My plan is to
work on getting the first draft of my novel tightened up, rid myself of this
infernal flu, and get some much needed exercise. As for Emily, she was feeling
pretty excited about this place until her meeting with the automatic sprinkler
system – oops.

So folks, here we go on another adventure. I love life – you
just never know what’s in the cards!


“This town is full of
guys…
Who think they’re mighty wise,
Just because they know a thing or two…
You see them every day… walkin’ up and down Broadway,
Telling of the wonders they can do.
There’s con men and there’s boosters…
Card sharks and crap-shooters,
They congregate around the Metropole,
They wear fancy ties and laces…
But where do they get their aces..
They all have got an ace..
Down in the hole!”

Until next week, I hope this finds you healthy, happy &
lovin’ life!

The Princess

Posted in Travel | Leave a comment

More Than Just a Number!

Posted on April 23, 2006 by clubfredbaja

Hello from Casa de Los Roneys,

 

From time to time I am known to quote the famous playwright Bill S. and this week seemed custom made for a little tragedy a la Hamlet…”When sorrows come they come not single spies but in battalions.”  No sooner had we arrived back in BC, ready to get some exercise, ready to get going, when I get a call from my sister telling me that I have a funeral to attend (my Aunty Betty), then I come down with a nasty flu complete with non-stop hacking cough, and lastly I find out that I have $493 owing on an account which was supposedly closed three years ago that has now been sent to collections. Today, just to cap things off, I came out of the gym (my first day back there) to find the driver’s side mirror of my truck smashed in. Sigh.

 

Here’s a little tip: Feeling too good about yourself? A little cocky? Have an exaggerated sense of self-worth? No problem, just spend ten minutes dealing with a collection agency and you’ll soon realize that you are not only just a number, you are scum.

 

I’ll make this long story as short and painless as possible. Here goes…

 

Back in the days of stunts I was incorporated. I had a business chequing account with the Royal Bank of Canada and a business Visa as well. The purpose of this was only to keep my business expenses separate from my personal ones for income tax. When we left the biz and the country in spring of 2003, we both closed our business chequing accounts and zeroed all our debts. While in the bank closing my business account the teller suggested that I consolidate my personal and business Visa’s as I wouldn’t need the business account anymore. She said that any airmiles or outstanding charges would be transferred onto the new card. Simple, right? Ya, that’s what I thought too.

 

So, we’re talking to the folks who bought our old house and they tell us that someone named Mr.Jerk (name has been changed to protect the not-so-innocent) was looking for me, said it was urgent, and left a number to call. I call the man and I am almost instantly bombarded by a verbal attack. What is my contact information?! When am I going to pay the money I owe??!

 

Whoa…hang on a moment…what money do I owe??

 

Mr.Jerk, who grows exponentially ruder by the minute, informs me that I have an overdraft on my RBC business account that has not been paid and is now with their collection agency. My attempts to explain that the account has been closed for three years and that there was a zero balance when I closed it are met with sarcasm and disbelief. The Prez, who is listening in, takes over to defend his poor wife; this sends Mr.Jerk into a rage. The call is eventually “terminated”.

 

With a little sleuthing I find out that a charge of some sort was put onto my business Visa (the one that was supposed to be closed) and when it wasn’t paid Visa re-opened my business chequing account and used the overdraft protection to pay it off – then that account was sent to collection. Are you as confused as I am?

So far, no one has been able to tell me exactly what the $493 charge on my Visa was for or when it was made but everyone (with the exception of Suzanne the friendly bank employee) has treated me like I might be Osama Bin Laden’s first cousin or something. As far as the bank, Visa and the collection agency are concerned I am guilty until proven innocent. But how to prove it? I mean, they have all the records and I have been informed that the bank doesn’t want to go into the archives for such a small amount. Where does that leave me? Frustrated. Angry. Feeling more than slightly impotent.

 

Anyone who’s dealt with a bloated corporate entity knows how small we, the individuals, truly are. They make the rules and we obey. What choice do we have? We are powerless. Standing in the bank lobby, listening to a woman tell me that I am essentially an idiot because the charge must be mine, it takes every ounce of control I can muster to prevent myself from exploding into a full-blown adult temper tantrum. But what good would that do? I’d just end up looking like a nutcase – i.e. exactly the type of person who would try to get out of paying a $493 Visa bill. The days when you could go to a bank and talk to someone who might be able to access your files and help solve a problem are gone. Character? What’s that? Try and get a bank loan on character. Everything about us is reduced to numbers now. It doesn’t matter that you will work three jobs, night and day, seven days a week to pay off your loan or mortgage, if your numbers don’t work no one is going to take a chance on you. How did we get here? When did we take the “human” out of humanity?

 

I find it kind of funny that we are so afraid of terrorists, criminals, even our own government when the biggest crooks, the ones that really control and enslave us are the corporations. You doubt me? Guess what, it still costs the roughly the same amount to extract and process oil as it did a few years ago yet we’re paying through the nose for gasoline thanks to the politics of fear. Don’t like it? Well you could um…stop driving or…er…um…maybe write a letter to the editor…or…well, actually, that’s about all you can do. And you better believe the oil companies are having great, big, fat, gut chuckles at our expense. They are looooooovvvving this oil “crisis”.

 

But back to my little drama…

 

I did manage to get out of collections because the birth date and social insurance number on the information the bank had were incorrect. Eek! Me thinks I smell some fraud. Meanwhile, the debt is still on the records and there’s no saying if they will pursue it any further. My bank manager has put in a request for the Visa statements up to six months after the account was supposed to be closed. It will be at least a month before they receive them, if they get them at all. After that, well, we’ll see what happens. The bank manager didn’t seem to believe that my card might have been used fraudulently. Despite my insistence that I know the charge is not mine, she seems to have already decided that I am wrong. Nice. Nothing like getting the benefit of the doubt!

 

Are we only numbers? Drivers License. Bank Card Numbers. Credit Card Numbers. Social Insurance Number. Pin Numbers. Phone Numbers. Height. Weight. Age. Birth Date. Employee Number. Security Codes. IQ Number. GPA. Care Card Number. Gross Income. Net Income. Credit Ranking Number. Numbers. Numbers! &*%#ing numbers!!! I am more than the sum of my numbers. I am flesh and blood and all those wonderful intangibles that separate humans from computers. I AM NOT JUST A NUMBER!

 

Well, I’ve vented so I feel slightly better. Slightly. And my flu has gotten much better, thank you very much. It’s funny, you never think much about your health until it’s compromised. There’s nothing like spending half the night coughing up your lung tissue to drive home how nice it is to not spend half the night coughing up your lung tissue.

 

The funeral was another experience, one that deserves a Chronicle of its own. Surreal. Awkward. Mixed emotions. Still wrapping my brain around it.

 

This Thursday the Prez and I head off on another adventure…Sin City – Las Vegas. But that’s another story…

 

So until next week, I hope this finds you healthy, happy and lovin’ life!

 

The Princess

 

 

 

 

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Tales From the Road – “A Funny Thing Happened on the Way to Canada…”

Posted on April 12, 2006 by clubfredbaja

Hello from the land of milk and honey!

 

We have landed safely and are once again in the tender loving hands of Martha and Patty-Cakes Roney. My apologies for the delay of this posting but it seems that no sooner are you back in civilization than you suddenly realize you have eight billion and seventy-three things to do…immediately. But enough about me, let’s talk about me, specifically my journey from Baja to here, Port Coquitlam (pronounced Koh-kwit-lam for you non-Canucks).

 

Our plan was to head north early on Tuesday morning, April 4th, with co-travelers Gary, Terri, dog “Buddy” and cat “Gato” in their Mini-Winnie. Now anyone who knows the Prez knows that he has two speeds – Fast and Stop – and so with the Winnie chugging along at 55mph it wasn’t long before we zoomed ahead, agreeing to meet on the beach of Villa Jesus Maria. This is a fave spot of ours, out of the way but accessible, with a lovely estuary and pristine beaches, many of which are hike-in only. It was on one of these beaches where we would find ourselves in a very Leonardo-DiCaprio-movie-ish type situation.

 

After firmly establishing that the Mini-Winnie is not, repeat NOT, an off-road vehicle and settling in to camp, we all piled into our truck to explore the aforementioned beach. We parked at the top of a steep hill (the “steep” part is important, make a mental note) and hiked down to the isolated horseshoe of sand, soft sand, very soft sand (this is also important). On the far side of the beach was an intriguing rocky outcropping with a natural rock arch, so of course we made a beeline for that right away. In the middle of our exploration, Terri and I ooohing and aaahhing over the cool rock formations and fossils, Gary and Fred climbing to the top of the arch to look down on us, we saw a vehicle (a Jeep Cherokee to be exact) perched at the top of the hill looking as if he was going to attempt the descent. “No Way!” Prez exclaimed and before the words had left his mouth the Jeep was enroute down the steep hill. We were all puzzled. Why would anyone drive down that hill? Our question would soon be answered.

 

At about the same time our fearless Jeep pilot was anchoring his vehicle in the soft sand, a panga (Mexican fishing boat) surfed its way in to shore. Three men tossed three blue, water-tight containers ashore before jumping off themselves. The panga, cargo unloaded, sped away. Hmmmmm. Odd. Perhaps they are camping and this is part of their gear? Or perhaps we are all just very naïve? The panga men made their way over to the Jeep guys and together they all set about trying to un-stick the Jeep from the sand. Prez, aka “McGyver”, and Gary, thinking that their knowledge of off-road vehicle unsticking techniques would be appreciated offered to help and set about lowering the air pressure in Jeep Guy’s tires. Though the gentlemen were not rude or mean, they were certainly not interested in our help one bit. Jeep Guy #2 was blabbering away on a cell phone and it was at this point that the light came on and the situation went from “odd” to “sketchy”. Exit stage left gringos!

 

Now Vegas odds would have leaned heavily towards these guys never, ever getting out of the sand (did I mention it was very soft?), never mind getting back up the hill (as I said, very steep) and so, convinced that something quite shady was going down, we felt we’d have a comfortable head start back to camp. However, before we could even begin to back up the truck, the Jeep comes screaming up the hill and blasts past us (all passengers and mysterious cargo on board) like a bat out of heck. Hmmmmm. Sketchy.

 

What was in those containers, you might be asking. Well, considering the fact that they could have unloaded them just around the corner in the nice, calm estuary with an easy, flat road in, one can only assume that it was something on the “il” side of legal. Possibly drugs, but also likely lobster tails or abalone which are both out of season, off-limits and worth muchos pesos. Me, I’m voting for drugs. And let me just say that I was happy to have Gary’s very large dog, Buddy, in camp with us that evening!

 

The rest of our journey was uneventful but please don’t stop reading, I promise I’ll write some really cool stuff about Oregon!

 

Day two we crossed the border back into Gringolandia – California. The Tijuana border is the world’s busiest border crossing; you owe it to yourself to drive across and back at least once in your life. During your wait in line to exit Mexico, you can buy anything from a ceramic Tweety Bird, to a fake Yves St.Laurent handbag, to a statue of the Virgin Mary, and of course there are always plenty of “chicle” vendors willing to sell you the world’s most flavorless gum. When the guy came around trying to hawk a mini Mexican guitar, we took advantage of the moment to hand off the last of our Mexican (dangerously explosive) fireworks; Guitar guy was thrilled and we didn’t have our truck torn apart like some of the other poor bastards in line.

 

The drug sniffer dog was hard at work this day and in our short time in line we saw more than one car get the tell-tale tail wag which is dog speak for “prepare to have your vehicle dismantled and your anal cavity inspected!” The dog was a black lab, he reminded us of Max – except that Max would have been following the churro vendor around all day instead of searching for contraband. Our crossing was painless except for the mango that was impounded; too bad, black market mangoes fetch top-dollar back in BC!

 

California passed in a blur. Heck, we barely noticed we’d left the state until we realized the radio stations were no longer 80% Spanish. Do you have problems sleeping? Difficulty relaxing? Well my friend, just hop on the I-5 freeway and drive through the entire state of California, you’ll be snoozing in no time. And don’t ask me why, but my turn to drive always seems to come right around prime siesta time, just after we’ve packed away some truly coma-inducing fast food, on the flattest, most mind-numbingly boring stretch of highway in existence.

 

Oregon. Fact: you cannot, by law, pump your own gas in Oregon. We learned this the hard way on our first foray to Baja. Prez jumped out at the gas station, grabbed the nozzle and began the filling process when a hand came down forcefully on his shoulder. “You’re in Or-e-gon” said a husky voice with more than a little twang. He pronounced Oregon as if it were three words instead of one. “Oh, OK, thanks” answers the Prez. “Yew cain’t pump yer own gas in Or-e-gon” the man went on. The Prez surrendered the hose; you have to choose your battles wisely. It was reassuring to see that almost eight years since that trip, Oregon has not budged on its no-self-pumping policy. In this crazy world, it’s nice to know that there are some constants you can count on.

 

Washington has a new slogan: “Washington is slots of fun!” Those who were once drawn to this state only for the pleasure of pumping their own gas now have the added excitement of the chance to blow their paycheques in one of the new casinos located every fifty feet along I-5. I’m looking forward to the day when the Indians (yes, I know, first nations, aboriginals, etc., I’m not feeling very PC tonight, I have a cold, I’m cranky, so sue me!*) actually bankrupt all the white men and buy their country back. Hey, if it means more smoked salmon I’m all for it.

 

*To my American readers, that part about suing me was just a joke, please do not sue me.

 

Canada. BC. Port Coquitlam. Home. Well, kind of home. The Roney’s basement which is as home as home gets. We were warmly welcomed back to the land of “toques” and people who pronounce the word “roof” properly by our dear, dear friends Pat & Joyce who had lots of hugs and an ice cold martini ready for us. Just like that old saying, “Home is where the gin is” or something like that.

 

Life on the road is great but it’s not for everyone. Even the Prez and I, who are used to long stretches of highway, have a “Vehicle Tolerance Threshold”. The VTT is the point at which you simply do not want to be in the vehicle anymore, when only fear and common sense keep you from hurling yourself out the door screaming, “I just want to not sit anymore!!!!” Emily is a great traveler, thank goodness. I mean, when she’s not in the vehicle she sleeps 23 hours per day anyway so I guess it’s not a big stretch to sleep in a slightly different location. And we have become so attuned to her movements that we now instantly recognize the difference between her visits to the front seat that mean, “Just checking to see which state we’re in, oh yes, a casino, Washington” and the front seat visits accompanied by prancing and meowing that mean, “Find a rest stop, pull over and get me my litter pan or you can kiss that nice fleece jacket back there goodbye!!!”.

 

Another issue on the road is food. Generally, you want to keep moving and eating is just an unavoidable nuisance. We always promise ourselves that we are going to plan ahead and eat healthy; this lasts for about one, maybe two days before we give in and start sucking down gut bombs from Burger Thing and Rotten Ronnie’s. As this is about the only time we ever eat fast food, I’m always amazed to see how much smaller and more disgusting the portions are getting. At a Rotten Ronnie’s somewhere in Oregon I ordered an Egg McMuffin – these breakfast delicacies are now roughly the size of a quarter and taste like the inside of a shoe. Thankfully I had a stash of dark chocolate Easter eggs, compliments of Miz Liz, which kept me going through the lean times.

 

Then there is the entertainment factor. With enough preparation time, I can plan out enough diversions to get us through the scenery-challenged zones but this trip was arranged in a hurry. There really is a limit to how many times you can listen to the same twelve CD’s, it’s true. Sometimes, however, I had to bite the bullet rather than risk the evil eye cast upon me by the Prez as I endlessly channel search the radio. “Oh, oh, this one’s good! Oh no, too static-y.” Switch. “What is it with Mexicans and accordions?” Switch. “You broke my heart, you broke my truck, my dog done died, just my luck…” Switch. “And God looked down and said, Yea there shall be no more pumping of thine own gas!” Switch. Switch. Switch. And so it goes. Next trip, two words: Satellite Radio!

 

Well, as I said earlier, I have a cold and I’m a little cranky so I’m going to call it a night! To everyone who has emailed, I promise to get on that tomorrow. I’m not ignoring you, honestly.

 

Good night to all, even those of you from Or-e-gon!

 

Until next week, I hope this finds you healthy, happy & lovin’ life!

The Princess

 

 

 

 

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This Story Has No End

Posted on April 1, 2006 by clubfredbaja
 

Hello again, for the last time, from the last frontier!

 

My Mom loved to plan trips. She could spend months mapping out driving routes, making motel reservations, preparing clothes, driving us batty. The actual trip, I believe, never quite lived up to the thrill of the planning for her and the end of the trip was a sad time followed by a month long mourning period. I’m not quite that bad, but between her and my Dad I was given a healthy dose of travel fever and a dread of “endings”. And so I come to the end of our stay in Baja with mixed feelings – the excitement of the highway and more travels ahead, the despondency of leaving the people and places I love.

 

But I am learning that there are no real beginnings or endings, just a never ending circle of experiences.

 

Today is a little bittersweet for me. We have Miz Liz here at long last and what a joy it is to have her back in the 30th Palm. She has come to celebrate the ending of the tortuous ten year legal battle I wrote of in the last Chronicle and she came bearing dark chocolate which makes her visit doubly exciting (hooray Easter Bunny!). Today is also the one year anniversary of the day we lost her beloved husband and our dear, dear friend Big Wave Dave. It is hard to believe that a year has passed. I know for Liz there is still pain, still grief, loss, longing. Physically Dave is gone and is most desperately missed by all who knew him… but it is not an ending.

 

Knowing Dave made me a better person. I am convinced of that. And if my being a better person affects someone else out there, through words or actions, causing them to be a better person, and so on and so on, then he lives on. He lives on in Liz, lives on in his children and their children, lives on in the communities (29Palms and Posada) that he loved, in his friends his spirit thrives, he’s in the walls of this house, he is all around us. No, there is no end to Dave.

 

I am glad that Liz has chosen to be here at this time; under the Baja sun, drinking beers, getting sunburnt even though she knows better, sharing laughter and stories with friends is exactly where Dave would want her to be.

 

We can measure our lives by what we’ve lost, what we’ve missed or left behind. We can dwell on our failures, on all of the “what could have been’s”, or we can keep our feet firmly planted in the now and our eyes on the horizon of what’s to come. The past can be a nice place to visit but you don’t want to live there.

 

I am learning, every day I am learning to embrace change, to savour the unexpected and to stop clinging so hopelessly to what was. When Prez and I gave it all up to move to the Bahamas and start a new life I thought I was ready – I was kidding myself. Each moment of wonder was clouded by the ache I felt for the friends I’d left behind. I could do without the luxuries but being so far from all the people I loved was painful. As we traveled to Florida, then Costa Rica, then Mexico, I imagined the glorious day when I would be reunited with my friends. What I found was, much like my mom planning our summer vacations, reality will never live up to my imagination.

 

Make no mistake, it was GREAT to see all of our old buddies again, but the road had changed me in ways I had yet to discover. In the year we were gone, life for our friends had gone on as per usual, but we were different now and we always will be. There is nothing normal about our lives. At first the unpredictability was stressful but now we are addicted to it. Whenever someone starts asking me about when we plan on “settling down” or “putting down roots” my belly starts doing these wild flip flops and visions of being held down with chains start popping into my head. Our first year back in Canada was as hard, if not harder, than our first year away. The words you can never go back haunted me but they are true.

 

So I leave Baja on Tuesday morning and I will weep. I’ll miss the endless impromptu dinner parties, walking barefoot on the beach, feeling “dressed up” just because I’ve had a shower, driving in the Chilito (Liz’s Volkswagen Thing) with the wind in my hair and the car threatening to shimmy apart underneath me, morning tennis with the occasional dog on the court, the grocery shopping Olympics at Saul’s, camping at Estero Coyote, beating the pants off the guys in poker, the water, the sky, the air, the cactus, rush hour being considered the time you wait for a cow to get off the road, and the feeling of freedom that hangs so thick in the air here you can practically eat it with a spoon. I may even miss Max’s room-clearing dog farts and Tally’s obsessive compulsive ball chasing. Mostly I’ll miss the people though.

 

Of all the people the Prez and I have met through the years, Baja people may be the ones we have the most in common with. Baja people know all about leaving friends and family for the want of scratching itchy travel feet. These folks don’t mind casting aside civilization. They understand how it feels to be “different” from other folks, even friends they love like crazy.

 

Yes, I will miss Baja but Baja never ends. Baja and all my friends here live on in me every day – they are always with me. No, there is no end to Baja.

 

So Tuesday we’ll start the drive north, not a meandering sightseeing tour this time but a straight shot to Vancouver. I can’t wait to see all our friends again, catch up on the comings and goings, savour some sushi (yum, yum, yum), take in some tall, green trees. And when we leave, BC, our friends, our family, will stay with us in our hearts until the circle brings us back around again. No beginnings, no endings.

 

Thank you to all our Baja buddies who made this season so memorable, and to those who took time to visit while passing through. Special thanks to Miz Liz for letting us enjoy a hang-out as groovy as the 30th Palm. And innumerable thank you’s to CB and the Roneys without whom we could never live this gypsy life! And readers, thank you so much for taking this journey with me, I hope I’ve given you a few laughs along the way.

 

To finish, I asked myself what Dave would say to all of you if he were here and the answer was almost too easy – Someday is this day! Stop putting off your dreams, they have an expiry date whether you realize it or not. Walk up to the dinner table of life and make a complete pig of yourself. Eat it up, drink it in, go back for seconds, thirds, fourths, savour it all. It’s not a contest to see who has the most money in their bank account at the end; invest in friendship the dividends are out of this world! If you are alive, if you are healthy, then you are a king.

 

Live! Live!! LIVE!!!

 

Until next week, I hope this finds you healthy, happy & lovin’ life!

The Princess

 

 

 

 

 

  

 

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