Car Emergency Kit

I have been driving for twenty-mumble mumble years.  My father gave me some valuable tips on what to always have in your car in case of emergency:

• Basic safety kit - Booster Cables, Road Flares, Tire Jack...etc

• Money - always have $20 in your car in case you run out of gas and always have change for the phone (this was before cell phones but still useful since batteries go dead)

• CAA - I find this the most useful - let someone else come and change that flat!

• Blanket, flashlight and granola bars... you never know how long CAA will take to get to you in a winter storm.

• Water... to drink or add to your radiator

• First Aid Kit - I am a nurse so really important since I have to stop at accidents... but you never know when I may be walking and need to use yours.

• Really warm gloves, scarf and hat 

So this is what is in my car... I have added a few things over the years (like an overnight bag with a uniform, nightie and clean undies)... in case a snowstorm gets me stuck somewhere.

Well, I live in Newfoundland now and my kit has been expanded... but not the usual things you need for safety but what you need for fun.  So my new list includes:

• Travel chair - you never know when you will see a concert or festival just begging for your attendance. A nice comfy chair makes the experience so much better.

• Rain coat and sweater.. the weather can change in a heartbeat and you wouldn't want that invite to a beach bonfire to be wasted because you didn't bring something warm.

• Sneakers or Hiking boots - some of the best views are off the beaten path. Why stand on the side of the road because you don't want to ruin those cute little sandals.

• Rubber boots - for the reasons stated above, off the beaten path could be a little wet.

• A Container - Off the beaten path (a place I seem to be spending a lot of time) sometimes has the best berries and you can only eat so many.

• A Tarp - who knows what you will find to make your garden landscaping beautiful or that perfect something from a yard sale.

• A last but definitely not least... A CAMERA.  No explanation needed.

Now, if I can find a space for passengers....

Who Ownes Ya?

I am a CFA and I will probably always be a CFA.  It is not a bad thing, it is just what I am.  "Come From Away" is the term now and days... the old term (and still used) is Mainlander. To make matters worse, I am a Mainlander from Toronto.

I have learnt that is now part of my introduction.  I am no longer Kim.  I am Kim from the Mainland.  The Newfoundland expression "who ownes ya?" has been asked of me on a regular basis.  I have to give a mini family tree to establish my roots and my right to be here.  Just saying my last name lets them know that my family can be traced to the Southern Shore and goes back many generations.  My Mom's side is out by Trinity Bay and again the connection to the family and community is there.

Now, I want to be clear.  I have experience the best hospitality here.  No-one has every discriminated against me but there is always that little bit distance and even a bit of pity that appears when I start to talk and there is no accent.

I didn't realize there was  such a fuss regarding this until I came across an article from the Canada.com.  The Liberals want to legislate people to stop using the term.  I can see both sides but it depends on how the term is used.  It can be cruel and distancing or acknowledging and welcoming.  The article does make a good point... you cannot legislate people to forgo their everyday speech.

So call me a Mainlander, a CFA, and a Torontonian...but never, ever call me late for supper...

Everywhere is within walking distance... if you have the time.

I don't know if you have seen the Newfoundland and Labrador Tourism advertisement regarding time, but it is worth the watch.  Newfoundland has its own time zone, a minimum of a half hour ahead of the rest of Canada.  We are the first to see the sun rise, the first to exercise our right to vote and the first province to start our New Year resolutions (and probably the first to break them).

I am born, raised and worked all my life in Ontario and like most people, I commute.  The time varied depending on the job but it averaged about an hour.  I have gotten used to automatically adding an hour or more to every trip I make to account for accidents, road work and just plain traffic congestion .  This is not a good plan here in Newfoundland.

I find myself sitting outside the hospital where I work at 6:00 am - I start work at 7:00am.  Friends are telling me that we will meet for supper at 6:30pm so when I show up at 5:45pm, I am still early (but not by too much) for the supper they had planned for 6:00pm.

I need to slow down and accept the fact that I can get from one end of St. John's to the other in 15 min...so everywhere I would need to go on a day to day basis does not need an hour buffer.  The whole atmosphere here is different.  In Toronto, it is about what you can accomplish, how many things "got done" today.  Here, it is about the journey, the people you meet along the way and the way you feel at the end of the day...with only a little time added to watch for the moose.

I guess this is what I was looking for... the journey, not the destination.  It is just going to take some time for this 40 year old body to change its ways....

Part I of the Journey

Did ya miss me?  I know that I have been away too long but it has been a busy couple of months.  The first part of my journey is over.  I have moved from Ontario to Newfoundland, bought a house and started my new job.  Now the next part... unpacking, getting settled and starting a new life here in St. John's.

I have so much to tell you and some wonderful stories from my journey and there are new and wonderful things happening all the time.  So, with that in mind, I will be writing again.  Some of my blogs will be from the here and now and some will be from a couple months back.   Enjoy!

The reason today was the day to get back on the blog wagon was two-fold.  Firstly, I had to do my WHMIS this morning so my mind had a chance to wander about all the things I would rather be doing and it also gave me the afternoon off.  Secondly, I am sick of unpacking...really, really sick of it so I am going to sit at the computer at type (no guilt since I am actually doing something).

I have probably said this before, probably while packing, that I HAVE WAY TOO MUCH CRAP.  I am living quite comfortably with the small amount that I have unpacked and I look at a basement full of boxes and wonder why do I need so much stuff.

I have these grand ideas of purging and having a slick minimalist style of home... but then again...

Stuff makes us feel safe, it makes us feel wealthy but I think that most of all it makes us feel "home".  I have my house and like I said, I have enough unpacked to make my meals, get dressed, watch TV and do the grooming thing but it doesn't feel like home yet.  As I unpack my pictures, my books, those little trinkets and all those other little things, this house is starting to feel like I belong here.  Maybe that is the whole point of stuff; a connection, someplace that is uniquely yours, someplace to call your own.

Never Ending Winter

It is April 17, 2011 and it one week until Easter.  I have crocuses popping their little purple heads out of the soil... and it is snowing.  Not a little flake here or there but a full fledge snow storm.  Now, it only lasted about 10 minutes and then an hour later for another 10 minutes.  This process continued for most of the day.  I should be thinking about warm weather and gardening and where have I packed my raincoat – Not feeling as though I am stuck in a snow globe and someone keeps shaking it.

I have decided to make some big changes this summer.  I am selling my house, moving to Newfoundland and starting a new life there.   I am ready for this, but it seems that Mother Nature is keeping me from my summer plans.  I understand that it is a woman’s prerogative to change her mind but this is ridiculous.  It was 20 degrees last week and it is -2 today... is she going through menopause?

I have been met with some weird looks of late.  When I tell people that I am moving down East, their first response is ... I hope you like snow... or rain.  Well, folks, here in Barrie, Ontario, we had our first snowfall on October 22, 2010... That is 178 days or for those having a brain freeze, that is 5 months and 27 days. 

That is just shy of ½ of a year.  What happen to the four seasons? Please no snappy comments about “Walk like a man” or Vivaldi.   At least our four seasons of weather are easy to remember...Almost Winter...Winter...Still Winter...and...Is Winter Almost Over??  I think I am going to be able to handle the weather in St. John’s and after the year I have had, I think I can handle anything.

Antisthenes says that in a certain faraway land the cold is so intense that words freeze as soon as they are uttered, and after some time then thaw and become audible, so that words spoken in winter go unheard until the next summer.  ~Plutarch, Moralia

No Regrets

Never regret anything that made you smile at one time, laugh until your sides hurt… made you happy.  I will never regret a single day of my life with my soon to be ex-husband.    I signed the application for divorce today.  The beginning of the end of a 16 year marriage.  It is a new start for me but there will always be a part of me that mourns for the life we had together.

 My Aunt Sharon sent me this poem shortly after she found out about our separation.  I have read it many times and appreciate it more every time.

AFTER A WHILE

After a while you learn the subtle difference

between holding a hand and sharing a life

and you learn that love doesn’t mean possession

and company doesn’t mean security

and loneliness is universal.

And you learn that kisses aren’t contracts

and presents aren’t promises

And you begin to accept your defeats

with your head up and your eyes open

with the grace of a woman

and the grief of a child.

And you learn to build your hope on today

as the future has a way of falling apart in mid-flight

because tomorrow’s ground can be too uncertain for plans

yet each step taken in a new direction creates a path

toward the promise of a brighter dawn.

And you learn that even sunshine burns

if you get too much

so you plant your own garden

and nourish your own soul

instead of waiting for someone

to bring you flowers.

And you learn that love, true love, always has joys and sorrows

seems ever present, yet is never quite the same

becoming more than love and less than love

so difficult to define.

And you learn that through it all

you really can endure

that you really are strong

that you do have value

and you learn and grow

with every goodbye, you learn.

Written by Veronica Shorffstall,1971

Why did the chicken sit on a can of beer...?

I am trying to clear out my freezer and refrigerator for the Big Move.  This scavenging has lead to finding the 4 cans of Sleeman Cream Ale that has been my fridge since my Brother-in-Law was visiting at Christmas and me trying to figure out what to do with them.  I don’t drink... so the obvious was out.

Since I do not remember what I did before Goggle... off I went to the keeper of knowledge.  Typed in “Uses for Beer” and voila!!! More ideas than I know what to do with.  Maybe some beer battered fish and chips, beer bread, keep it for killing slugs, cure brown spots on my lawn... the list was endless.  The idea that caught my eye and piqued my curiosity was “Beer Can Chicken”

Now, I have seen this before and thought with my luck, it would tip over, catch on fire and leave me standing in the driveway explaining to the cute fireman why I thought sticking a can of beer up a chickens butt was a good idea.  But, what the hell... you only live once.

I made a rub for my freshly bought bird, a little garlic, onion and paprika.  Opened up my can of cream ale and stuck it up the little buggers arse.  What surprised me the most was just how easy this was.  What came out of the oven was the juiciest, most flavourful chicken I ever tasted.  Not only was the inside amazing, but the outside was tasty and crisp (all the way around the bird so twice as much skin... and we all know the skin is the best part).

What I didn’t realize was the unbelievable amount of recipes that exist for the “Beer Can Chicken”.  Not only with the rub, but added ingredients to the beer.  I even found a cookbook devoted the statuesque chicken.  There are also a myriad of devices to keep said bird from tipping over... and different sizes.

Hmmmm.... maybe the next Turkey day dinner... but is my oven high enough.

We Can Do It!!!

I came across an article today.  Rosie the Riveter died on December 26, 2010 at a hospice in Lansing, Michigan.  She was 86 and her name was Geraldine.  At 17 years old, she was a factory worker and her photo was taken.  The man in charge of producing morale-boosting poster saw the photo and a legend was born.

Unfortunately, Geraldine did not learn of this fact until 40 years later.  She left the factory job after less than two weeks for a safer position.  Her non-war time profession was as a cellist and she did not want her hands injured.  Now, her life was full without the title of “Rosie the Riveter”.  She worked until she married a Dentist and had 5 children, 18 grandchildren and 25 great-grandchildren.  

After learning of her association to the famous Rosie, she signed poster until her arthritis made her unable to write.  Geraldine never made a cent from all the merchandise then and now that bears her likeness.

This article made me think... I have a poster of her in my home office.  I have had it there for years.  I even have a Rosie the Riveter collectible figurine.  I always like the simplicity of the statement “We Can Do It”.  It is as valid for women today as it was 70 years ago.  We never know how strong we can be until being strong is the only choice we have.  I have always felt that I was an independent woman.  Worked for my paycheque, took care of the home, did the finances, etc... but, I am grateful that I have always had people to fall back on if needed.

These past two weeks I have been getting the house ready to sell.  I have painted, plastered, tiled, grouted, put in new flooring and cleaned like I have never cleaned before.  The house looks amazing and I am quite proud of myself... I Can Do It!!!  But something is missing....

Although I still have support from family and friends, I no longer have  my husband, my  soul mate, my best friend;  someone to tell the stories of the day and to share in the accomplishments of my life.  Maybe that is the worst part of divorce.  We all have the ability to stand on our own two feet and conquer anything... but it is missing something if there is no-one to share it with.

Boxed In

Packing... should be a four-letter word!  I am in the middle of hell and it’s made of corrugated cardboard.  You would think that taking the materialistic items of your life and wrapping them in newspaper would be easy, repetitive, but easy. 

Nope... there are rules!!

The shipping companies have their own little bible of packing....  you would think that people would have enough common sense not to need it.  But we all know that common sense is not all that common anymore.

I was delighted to learn that throwing my crystal glasses into a box is not the best way to ship them.  The glasses should be well cushioned with “clean” newspaper (not the stuff I wrapped the fish in from the market) and I should mark the box “fragile” since I don’t want the movers using it for hacky-sack practice.

Heavy items should be at the bottom of the box and lighter items at the top.  Good to know... don’t put the books on top of the crystal. 

This lovely pamphlet also says that professional packers can pack your house in a day....I would almost willing to pay to see this.  Not a chance, at least not my house.  I could spend a day just packing my scrapbooking stuff... actually, it took me three days.  It feels like I am trying to dig a hole in the sand... every time I pack a box, I turn around and the space has been filled up again.

So my days are spent packing and cleaning.  Can’t wait until I get into my new place, where I get to unpack and clean some more.  Now if someone could invent “cut” and “paste” for real life.

Stash Guilt

I am packing, and packing and packing.  During this process, I have found that I am an addict.  I have found bags of my guilty pleasure in every nook and cranny of this house.  There are Ziploc bags and Rubbermaid containers full.  I guess the first step is admitting it... I am a yarn addict.

Now, if anyone of you is a knitter or crocheter, you are probably guilty of having one... a yarn stash.  Mine is out of control and I think I need help.  I found a six step program online that I am hoping that it will work.  http://knitting.about.com/od/knittingskills/a/stash_guilt.htm

Step 1:  Get something on the needles.   This means actually knitting something.  That is the basis of my problem.  I want to knit, I love to knit, I just don’t have the time. 

Step 2: Practice the one in-one out rule.  I have to get rid of a ball if I want to bring in a new one.  Nope, not going to happen.  How could I possible choose one of these beautifully spun works of art and get rid of it.

Step 3: Go on a diet.  Now this I can do, I think.  Every time I go to purchase something lately, my first thought is “how much is it going to cost to ship this???’... But, yarn doesn’t weigh much, right?

Step 4:  Try a swap.  I can’t think of any of yarn I would be willing to give up... so scratch this off the list.

Step 5:  Knit more.  Now, at first blush, this seems to be the same as Step 1... But, there is a catch.  Actually finishing a project.  Whoa, that is asking a lot.  For every bag of yarn I have, there is a project partly finish.  I am a free thinker.  I get bored easily. How can I stick with one project when I just found this GORGOUS new yarn?

Step 6:  Get over it.  Here we go.  The perfect solution.  My stash brings me happiness, joy if you will.  So it is time to accept it and move on.

So there it is again, moving on.  Seems to be my motto in life and it is a good one.  Maybe I will deal with the stash once I move in to my new home in St. John’s, Newfoundland.  I hear there is a support group at the local yarn shop on Wednesday nights... ooh, look... a sale on yarn!!!

Kiss Me I’m Irish

Today is St. Patrick’s Day and it is a day when we all have a little Irish in us.  What makes me wonder is...How much??  My Great-Great-Great Grandfather was born in Kilkenny, Ireland in 1802 and he died in Ferryland, Newfoundland in 1896.  Every generation from there on was born in Newfoundland except for me... I was born in Ontario.  I am Canadian ... with some Irish parts. 

I find it odd that when new immigrants come to Canada and still claim a connection to their country of origin, we feel slighted.  As though, if they wanted to come to Canada so badly, why do they not consider themselves, and their children, Canadian?   There is over 200 years since my ancestors came from Ireland but if someone asks me what I am... I will say, with pride, my family is from Ireland. 

So, as I set out on my journey to reclaim my roots, I think of the places where my family originated.  I think about my Great-Great-Great Grandfather and what he must off gone through when he got on a ship and sailed across the Atlantic to Newfoundland.  He probably had very little and had to start a new life from scratch.  My journey to Newfoundland will be a lot easier.  I will have a job, a home and family there to support me in my decision.  Practically a breeze compared to what he went through, but emotionally I think I can connect with him.  I am leaving everything I know behind to start a new life and hopefully, a better one.

Wishing you a rainbow
For sunlight after showers—
Miles and miles of Irish smiles
For golden happy hours—
Shamrocks at your doorway
For luck and laughter too,
And a host of friends that never ends
Each day your whole life through!

The Pendent is available at:
 http://stores.theirishjewelrycompany.com/-strse-584/Kiss-Me-I'm-Irish/Detail.bok

Will you succeed? Yes, you will indeed!

Dr. Seuss was a very wise man.  I think we have all learnt a great deal from his colourful hard bound books.  I reread some of them when my nieces were born and the messages that the good doctor was trying to convey to my child mind came through a clear as crystal.   The quote from the title is from the book Oh, the Places You'll Go! (1990).

It seemed to be an appropriate start to my blog.  Now don't get me wrong, I love bloggers but other than a few proper writers which I am privileged to know, blogs seem to be glorified journals.  So, I have submitted and am posting my glorified journal. This will be my way of letting out all the thoughts that ramble around in my head and I hope I am forgiven for the mistakes in grammar that I am bound to make.

So, who am I?  I am a 40ish year old woman who was told by her husband of 16 years that he didn't want to be married anymore.  Since the fact remains that if only one person wants to be in the marriage, the marriage will not survive.  I am lucky enough to have remained friends with my husband but we have gone our separate ways.  After much contemplation, I have decided to move from Ontario (the place of my birth)  to St. John's, Newfoundland and start a new life there.  I am not running away, I am moving on!!!

You have brains in your head.
You have feet in your shoes.
You can steer yourself
any direction you choose.

You're on your own.
And you know what you know.
And YOU are the one who'll decide where to go.

So, here it is ... me... moving on.  Want to take the journey with me!