Category Archives: General

10 things to do on a Saturday night while trying to save $ for the move

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  1. Read a book.
  2. Watch Meet Joe Black on Netflix. Drool at Brad Pitt.
  3. Revise your after-moving budget (that you know you’re never gonna stick to) while drinking a Hop Circle IPA from the stash in the fridge.

    It's an article about the beer rather than Phillips itself because, quite frankly, the Phillips Beer web site sucks. It's too cutesy, they seriously need some help in that regard.

  4. Text friend in Ontario whose power is out. It’s his only amusement after all.
  5. Plan meals for next week and make grocery list (that you know you’re never gonna stick to).
  6. Vaguely wonder where your 17-year old daughter is (with the boyfriend again silly!)
  7. Admire the sunset from the balcony.
  8. Ice foot, which is feeling a little painful from a run and a lot of walking around enjoying the sunshine this afternoon.
  9. Catch up on all the ReadItLater articles that have been piling up (most of which you know you’re never gonna get to).
  10. Write something – anything – for a blog post to help fulfill 100 posts in 100 days (which you know you’re never gonna get to).

 

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How could I have known…

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How could I know, when I started this exercise of 100 posts in 100 days, that I would be preparing to move to Vancouver by myself and try to set up my daughter to be on her own during that time?

I knew I wanted to move to Vancouver, but once I got my promotion and made the first steps to doing that, all the pieces fell into place. I thought I would be searching the market for months finding the right place. Nothing could have been further from the truth. It was like a jigsaw puzzle randomly falling from the sky and assembling itself in front of me. The financing, the realtor, the perfect little condo, the offer accepted, the friends to help me paint…

And suddenly, here I am three weeks later arranging a move for myself, plus pushing my newly-graduated daughter out of the nest. Fly little ladybug. Fly!

Jeez, talk about Mom guilt. No stress here. :/

So I’m wondering how long I can keep up this posting-every-single-day thing.

I haven’t yet resorted to embedding a YouTube video with two lines of text though. But that day is coming, mark my words.

Don’t worry, the blog posts aren’t the only thing difficult to keep up with. I’m also having a hard time keeping up my fitness regime. The injuries don’t help either.

So I’ll be moving to Vancouver slightly doughier, slightly cash-poor and mightily worried about how my baby is doing on her own for the first time.

Flowers, drinks, coffee invitations gratefully accepted during this time of massive life transition…

 

 

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Old sports. New aches.

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Baseball glove

It was the week of doing sports-that-I-did-a-lot-years-ago-but-stopped-and-boy-am-I-sore-after-trying-to-relive-former-glory. My back still hurts from it.

First was climbing – on real cliffs – outdoors. On real rock. Thing about real rock is: it’s hard. As in, I banged my knee, and only realized later that night, after I got up to leave, that It Hurts.

It was better in a couple of days though.

It had been about eight years since I climbed outside. But it all came back, like riding a bicycle. I didn’t lead anything, I let Erich do that. I did top-rope his routes though, which were about 5.8 or 5.9 in difficulty (which is really not all that difficult in the climbing world).

Things I can still remember to do without killing myself or my partner: tie in, belay, clean gear off the route. Those things are easy and I’ve done them in the gym in the intervening years. Skills that required a little more searching of the memory banks were: securing myself so that I can clean an anchor, safely setting up the rope at anchor so my belayer can lower me, setting up a rappel, and rappelling itself (whee!).

We did three routes total after work Wednesday, on a sunny cliff that catches the evening light on Mount Wells. Those three routes were enough to give me sore trapezoids and forearms for two days. I loved every minute of it.

Best of all, I was climbing with the guy who first taught me how to climb sixteen years ago, when we were both living in Regina, SK. It was delightfully strange, both of us sixteen years older, but still being just who we are.

Well, I think we’ve both mellowed out a lot since then. Which made it even nicer.

Second was playing softball, which I did Sunday at a nice diamond near the house of Lauri, a colleague of mine, and her husband Chris. They invited a bunch of friends co-workers and family for a Labour Day Weekend ball game and BBQ and they couldn’t have picked a better day.

I had nearly forgotten how much I used to love playing ball in the summer sun. I practically grew up playing ball. After I graduated from high school I played on a fairly competitive beer league for a couple of years. We had actual practices and even won a tournament or two. I have a pretty good throwing arm, I can field really well, but I never did get proficient at hitting the ball.

Just before I went over to Lauri and Chris’s I had tea with Roger and Jim, plus friends Trevor and Ken. We were talking about how people who play team sports as youngsters (or who played music in bands or orchestras, or who sang in choirs) seem to be better at forming relationships. I avowed that I never was great at team sports, but I did sing in choirs. It wasn’t until I got out on the ball field and started throwing the ball, making a few outfield plays that I remembered the fun I had practicing and playing with the team when I was a young adult.

Thing about softball is: you can form teams and just play and have fun. Lauri and Chris host a lot of international students in their home, and there were a couple of Chinese and Korean students, plus some friends who are recent immigrants from Russia, who had never played before.

We formed into two teams: the Hot Dogs (theirs) and the Slurpees (mine). The Slurpees – well – we, uh, sucked. I think we scored maybe 3 or 4 runs, while the Hot Dogs scored about 20.

But we had a blast. And that was all that mattered.

Photo by Brian Lary

 

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Friends Sunday: David Marlor

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David and me at the start of the Grouse Grind

David and me at the start of the Grouse Grind

David is a Boston-qualified marathon runner (that means he’s fast) who came to Canada as a teenager with the thickest British accent you could imagine (think Coronation Street) and only decades later can we all understand him.

Ok I’m joking. A little. :)

He is just one of those guys who is interested in everyone, genuinely and without reservation.

We met at Frontrunners in downtown Victoria almost three years ago when I started running again. I believe that’s when David started running for the first time. Now we’re both run leaders and the running friendship has continued.

While David runs, his wife Marion is usually out on a boat. So if David misses a run on a weekend, it’s most likely because he is meeting her at some marina or other around Vancouver Island. I did finally get to meet her at my birthday celebration last February, it was nice to put a face to the name!

Even though he’s so much faster than I, when David invites me to go for a run with him (or hike up Grouse Mountain) he makes sure to stay at the back with me so I don’t feel bad lagging behind. It’s all about fun, fellowship and love of the sport; running is a social activity for David (and for me too). That’s the best kind of sport for me, where is nothing to prove. Unless it’s race day of course.

He always has a warm hug for all his friends. I’m not the most touchy-feely of people, but friends like David are turning me around on that score. It’s really nice to get an authentic embrace from a friend, especially when you live alone.

The greatest thing about being David’s friend is: I can tell him anything and he’ll always have some good advice for me. He’s my straight go-to guy for man-advice (Jim and Roger being my gay go-to guys on that score). I trust his instincts, and his insights have proven to be spot-on so far.

David’s running the Victoria Marathon this October – I’ll be sure to cheer him on along with the rest of the Frontrunners gang, after I finish the Half Marathon division.

 

 

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Let the circle be unbroken

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There come a day when we all find ourselves out on the way

I am my story and I’m finally flying away

and that’s when the Oba said to me

“Go eat of that heavy-fruited tree and sweet as a glory taste you eat”

’cause the hand that I ate with is free

 

I was a traveler and I found my boat out on the sea

Left it behind me and I set out to learn how to live

at edge of the earth my destiny avoiding all traps and falls

There were so many many things – that well,

We never spoke of them again.

 

Let the circle be unbroken

Each one reach one each one teach one

 

There come a day when I found I had climbed up a hill

Left way behind me my home that was never a home.

Below they see love as a luxury, something that’s not allowed to me

And though I treat the others well, you can never unring the bell.

 

Let the circle be unbroken

Each one reach one each one teach one

Father, mother, day in, day out

We are moving steady forward

 

Clear in this moment I wake up and into a new day

Soul’s voice inside me says: ”Let yourself go learn how to live”

At edge of the earth, my destiny

Welcome new friends and family

There are so many many stories, we shall tell them again and again.

 

I am a traveler and I find myself out on my way

Open my door and I’m finally walking away

And then I wonder, how will you know me if I should pass you on the street?

Look in my eyes and you will see that the remembering makes us free.

 

Let the circle be unbroken

Each one reach one each one teach one

Father, mother, day in, day out

We are moving steady onward

 

Let the circle be unbroken

Each one reach one each one teach one

 

Always remember how far you’ve come

Tell them the stories of the victories we have won

We are crossing over

Let the circle be unbroken

We are never alone

The answers lie within

Dance in the footsteps of those who have come before

Keep on moving forward stronger wiser ….

Dianne Reeves – 1863

 

—

There was a time when my music collection was half jazz, half a motley collection of everything else. Dianne Reeves has always been a favourite.

This song always picks me up when I’m feeling low. I can’t find a performance of it on YouTube, but I did finally find it on LastFM. It’s from her album “Bridges” (1999).

I also love her rendition of Peter Gabriel’s “In Your Eyes” –

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Harmonize this!

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I’m so spitting mad this evening I could cry.

After the elation of signing my mortgage papers and downloading all the strata minutes and materials to read in advance of closing the deal on my real estate purchase, I found out I owe the government almost $4,000 cash for the privilege of getting into the second most expensive real estate market in Canada.

My new home has lots of light. And a hefty tax bill.

My new home has lots of light. And a hefty tax bill.

First a little background: I bought a two-bedroom condo in Regina for under $90,000 years ago. I sold it in April 2006, after I moved here. It was on the market for four months, I was paying rent here plus my mortgage, because the market hadn’t picked up yet in Saskatchewan. I didn’t have anything from that sale to afford a downpayment here, I barely broke even. So I’ve been renting the last five years, always with the dream of owning my own home again. I’ve also been socking a bit of money away in my RRSPs.

Did I mention I’m a single parent?

Now that I’m moving to Vancouver, I can withdraw up to $25,000 for a modest downpayment on a modest condo in Vancouver, under the federal First Time Home Buyer’s Plan. Yay! Deal’s almost done.

But wait! In B.C. There’s something called the B.C. Property Transfer Tax: one per cent of the first $200,000 value of the property, two per cent after that. If you’re a first time home buyer, you’re exempt. I naively thought if I was a first time home buyer to the Canadian government, I’d be one to the B.C. government too. After all, I worked on the interprovincial trade file years ago when I worked for government. We’re supposed to all be Canadians all under the same rules, aren’t we?

But a first time home buyer in the federal sense is not a first time home buyer in the provincial sense.

Because I’ve owned a place before and lived in it, no matter that it was years ago in a much less expensive market, I’m ineligible for a break on the B.C. Property Transfer Tax. I got the unpleasant news today – as I’m ready to close the deal – that the B.C. government wants almost $4,000 cash from me before I can transfer title of my little 600 square foot home that I worked so hard to buy.

Finance Minister Falcon, here’s a rhetorical question for you: I wonder what I would be spending that money on, stimulating the local economy, if I didn’t have to hand it over to the government?

  • New furniture for my new home, from local businesspeople in Vancouver
  • Paying someone to come and pack my belongings instead of me doing it myself, saving myself stress and making work for someone else.
  • I could pay someone to come and paint my new condo rather than doing it myself.
  • I could buy a subscription to the opera, or a theatre company, in my new city so I get to meet new people and take in its culture.
  • I could contribute to the local community centre, or the United Way, or the Vancouver Foundation to make Vancouver a better place to live, because government sure is doing a piss-poor job of that right now.

But no, instead I’m scraping together $4,000 cash to hand over to the government in an inexplicable tax grab. I could understand if the rules were the same as the federal government’s – so as to catch real estate flippers or what-have-you. Even that rationale is sketchy though.

I don’t mind taxes, really I don’t. I just want them to be consistent and fair and transparent. This one came as a surprise and I am left scrambling to fit it into my plans.

Why in the hell would you want to make it even harder for people like me to get into home ownership? My mind is still boggling.

Good lord, moving is stressful enough as it is.

 

 

 

 

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All I can think about is …

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…condo sale contracts mortgage moving packing fees renewal lawyer title strata minutes …

Yep, I’m in the throes of buying a condo in Vancouver, making preparations to move from Victoria, making sure my daughter is OK, making preparations to say goodbye to friends in Victoria.

And here I am only 20% of the way towards my goal of 100 blog posts in 100 days.

Uh – get ready for lots of moaning about how I have too much stuff, and lots of YouTube videos?

As soon as conditions are removed on the place, I’ll post pictures, and solicit opinions on what colours I should paint the place, and beg for volunteers to come over to help me paint before I move in….I pay in beer, and free ferry rides. :)

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Never going back again

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This may be all I’ve got for today. This week has been an emotional whirlwind: with a visit from an old friend, saying goodbye to a former colleague, a call from my brother, condo shopping, hiring an employee, drawing up an offer, facing an empty nest — and to top it all off an email/text from someone who has some nerve. I think I’ve done pretty darn good writing this blog amidst it all.

This song says it all for a Friday.

Never going back again – Fleetwood Mac

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Tips for commuting by float plane

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When you live on an island you have to get off it sometime. Some of us more than others, because of the nature of our jobs. I travel by float plane a lot; 2-4 times per month actually, between Victoria and Vancouver. I’ve picked up a few tricks along the way.

  • They’re loud. Wear the ear plugs. You’ll need them.
  • Better yet, get yourself a pair of good in-ear noise-cancelling headphones. That way you can listen to music or podcasts without cranking the volume to dangerous levels.
  • Fraser River Delta from the air

    Fraser River Delta from the air

    The smell of fuel gets to me, but here’s a trick: single engine, sit near the back; twin engine, sit near the front. Or is that the other way around. Anyway. Works for me. I might just be used to it by now.

  • Ladies, the pilot with your life in his hands will ask you to put your oversized purse in the back of the plane, especially if you’re sitting near an emergency exit. Be a dear, swallow your bitchiness and don’t give him any sass about it. Your shit will be all right. I promise. I don’t want to have to trip over your shit getting out if the plane ever hits the drink.
  • Get yourself an account, sign up for loyalty points and book your flights online. It’s cheaper and you get points toward free flights.
  • Don’t ever miss your flight, stay over in Vancouver, party, then catch a flight in the morning hung over. Just. Don’t. (Ahem, this one was told to me by a friend. I swear.)
  • During the flight, you can look all you want for whales in the ocean below. I’ve never seen any though. :(
  • Look up instead. You never, ever get tired of the view, especially in summer.

    songhees from sea plane

    The Songhees from the seaplane (Victoria BC)

  • In winter or during peak periods when it’s busy, don’t be late for check in. They will sell your seat to a standby passenger. I’ve seen it happen a couple of times.
  • About flying in winter: sure we don’t get snow, but we do get wind and fog and low clouds. And wind. If you love rollercoasters, you’ll love flying float planes in winter. Did I say wind?
  • Better yet, if you fly a lot in winter and get air sick easily, and you’re made of money or have time, you could always take a helicopter or the ferry.

 

 

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I wanted to change the world. Once.

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I wanted to change the world once, when I was 15 and I saw “If You Love this Planet” in high school.

I haven’t demonstrated for peace in – well I can’t remember the last time. That was years ago. I’m conflicted about it.

I wanted to change the world once, when I moved to the city (Ottawa) at age 19 and saw someone rummaging through the garbage for – what? Scraps of food, butts, refundable bottles. It made me cry. I was just a girl from a farm in southwestern Saskatchewan. That wasn’t my Canada, that happened somewhere else, didn’t it?

Now I just walk by people sleeping in doorways on my way home from work. I let my tithe to the United Way lapse, even though I used to work for one.

I wanted to change the world once, when I was attracted to women as well as men and I didn’t want to be afraid to say so.

I haven’t dated a woman in over 20 years, and I haven’t asked one out in over two years. It’s become easier just to pass as straight.

Jack Layton letter on my wallI wanted to change the world once. Years ago I got arrested for civil disobedience twice: in solidarity with some telecomm workers who were on strike and with aboriginal students who were being cut off from financial aid.

I haven’t been to a picket line or a Friendship Centre or visited friends on a reservation in over a decade.

I’m not out to commit civil disobedience again, but surely there’s more I could do.

I haven’t been a member of a political party for years, but I used to carefully research the candidates and work for the one I thought would best represent me in Parliament.

Over the years I’ve worked with a lot of people in economic development and the business community who told me everything I wanted to change can’t be done, because it would ruin the economy.

But today Jack Layton passed away, and left a letter for Canadians, and I haven’t been able to stop crying.

Because I know in my heart there is a better way, another option that will let us be a kind, thoughtful, healthy society with a strong economy. Even Warren Buffet wants to pay his taxes, after all.

I still want to change the world, and that’s why I can’t stop crying today. So I’ve started with a donation to the Broadbent Institute and I’ve printed out Jack’s letter and taped it to the whiteboard in my office.

“So let us be loving, hopeful and optimistic. And we’ll change the world.”

“Don’t let them tell you it can’t be done.”

 

 

 

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