Towel Protocol

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Due to an abundance of social events this year, such as the recent graduations and weddings, I have to share this important informational bulletin regarding visitations. Of course, as always, our friends and family are more than welcome to stay with us at the Chateau Anderson when you travel from out of town for these events, (In fact some of you have your rooms “booked” already, and let me assure you that we look forward to it!) however I do feel that it is in everyones best interest to shed some light on the very serious topic of TOWELS.

Before I go into further detail, I must disclose that I am NOT the towel expert in our household – that honour goes to the current presiding Towel Superintendent. (I’m pretty sure I do not need to explain who this is, suffice it to say that there was absolutely no democracy involved in the creation and appointment of this position, but I digress) I am only putting this information together from what I have gleaned with my amazing powers of observation.  That combined with having been told this information approximately 750,000 times by the Towel Superintendent.  Either way, the knowledge has stuck in my cortex, at least temporarily, somehow.

For your upcoming visit you need to be aware that there are many, many towels of assorted styles and colours located in various locations throughout our house, so please feel free to print this off and keep in your suitcase for reference purposes. I may release a simplified chart version that you could keep in your wallet once you have familiarized yourself with this information.

In your bedroom you will find some WHITE towels (hereafter called the “Guest Towels”). That is, of course, unless they are not white – in which case they probably match the colour of your curtains.  Or they may match your bedding.  Or they may match the wall.  The important part to remember here is that the Guest Towels are aesthetically matched to THAT particular room and you ARE allowed to use these towels freely.  This is, in fact, the preferred towel set for you to use.

In the bathroom itself you will find some more towels (hereafter called the “Nice Towels”). These towels will of course match the bathroom wall colour perfectly.  The Nice Towels are also available for you, as our guest, to use as you wish.  The Towel Superintendent would be honoured to have you use these towels.  Important to note: Anyone who is NOT a guest in the house is NOT allowed to use these for any purpose and any unauthorized Nice Towel usage must be reported immediately! If you witness a full time resident (otherwise known as Scoundrel or Rapscallion) with a Nice Towel please report the transgression to the Towel Superintendent (TS) who will then dish out the appropriate punishment (a little too happily and enthusiastically, I might add).

If you should happen to find some green bath towels hanging in the bathroom (hereafter called the “Green Towels”) please note that these belong to the kids.  Said kids should not leave Green Towels out in public areas so if you do see a rogue Green Towel out in view, please again report to the TS immediately.  We do not recommend handling a Green Towel without necessary safety equipment and we cannot be held liable for any injury or sickness incurred by said towels.  If a Green Towel is seen moving on its own or trying to escape please skip the Towel Superintendent and immediately dial 911.

Depending on your length of stay (and the status of our laundry day) you may also have an emergency situation and where someone will direct you to the hall closet where you will find a colourful stack we like to call the “Spare Towels”. These towels are perfectly acceptable (in fact magnificent) if the only parameter for a towels worthiness was something crazy like, you know, actually drying stuff off.  However these towels have been cursed with colours and patterns that do NOT match any of our home décor and have therefore been banished to the closet where they are only brought into use should the Daily Living Towel System malfunction and the Towel Emergency Plan Level One be enacted.  If this situation occurs please use the towels as normal but refrain from commenting on their colour or style.  The Towel Superintendent is very aware of the situation should these fine towels come into need and making note of these towels will not improve the matter.

As a last point, there are some faded, ragged old blue towels located on the premises. (Hereafter called the “Old Towels”).  These towels are the only ones that I personally am actually allowed to use.  As a guest in our house there should never, ever, EVER be a reason for you to even see the Old Towels.  If you do happen upon an Old Towel then we will know that the Towel System has fully broken down into complete towel anarchy.  The Towel Superintendent will be forced to implement the full Towel Emergency Protocol.  I honestly do not know what that means but I suspect it will be akin to the audio file from the Hindenburg disaster.  Oh the humanity!  If it reaches this point it will be every man/woman for themselves, do not stop to save pets or help others – it’s not worth it and there simply is no time.  There will be no debrief or further follow up needed should we reach this point.  I can only bid you farewell and wish you the best of luck in your future endeavors.  The rest will come out at the trial.

We look forward to having you visit, please enjoy your stay and remember to Towel responsibly.

With great power comes great eccentricity

 

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There’s an old saying that goes “if you’re not part of the solution, you are part of the problem”. With that in mind I have decided that it is time for me to stand up, put my money where my mouth is and bravely become a part of the problem – I mean solution. Whatever. The point is, I am going to run for office. I haven’t decided which office yet, I suspect my platform will guide that direction, but when the people see what I have to offer I assume that they may push for Canada to return to a Monarchy and make me their King. We shall see.

My platform is very simple. As proven by many of our previous election results, voters don’t seem to care about the big issues anyway, so why bother? I will leave those items to the regular monkeys and I will focus my time on issues where I can really make a difference. Important issues that may not make the daily news but will help make life easier for the average individual. Here are some of the key points I will have on my agenda:

Gas stations will have a separate lineup for cigarettes and lottery tickets – That’s right, if you want to buy these items at a gas station that’s fine, but you are a second tier customer to someone who is using a gas station to, oh you know, ACTUALLY BUY GAS. If you are holding up a line while you try to decide between a Bingo scratch or a Crossword scratch the gas station employee will be required, by law, to pull a lever and open a trap door which will drop you into a pit of serpents. Don’t worry, your fall will be softened by the piles of non-winning scratch tickets that will all be stored down there. The snakes? All I can say is “Good luck.”

While we are on Gas station rules, pay at the pump will also be required to just give you fuel. Swipe your card and fill your car. Easy.  No more “Please enter amount, select account, what’s your code, would you like a carwash? Reward points? How about a receipt? Care to see a weather update? Want to buy some potato chips?” – No, none of the nonsense, you get regular fuel and you leave.
Note – if you are in some kind of crazy tax bracket where you can afford premium fuel then you will have your own lineup, you probably don’t want to associate with the rest of us common folk anyway.

One last small gas station point – if the receipt printer is broken the pump will no longer say “please see inside for receipt”. Nope, if they can’t keep their equipment working then your fuel is free. The display will say “sorry we cannot keep a basic thermal printer operating for more than 12 minutes, your money has been refunded into your account, enjoy your free gas”.

With some of the small teaser promises out of the way, it’s time to unveil what is possibly my largest campaign platform: Once elected, I will immediately implement a four day work week. That’s right, EVERY weekend will be a “long weekend”. The best part is, it will be a floating long weekend so you decide if you want to take the Friday off or the Monday. I see merit in each so the choice will be a personal one – let it not be said that I don’t follow my constituents wishes. Of course this free time will allow for more recreation, so if you don’t have a hobby you may want to find one quickly for my next campaign promise: Any purchase that is a part of your recreation shall be considered a positive for mental health and will be a 100% tax write-off. Skiing, Snowmobiling, Camping gear, Motorcycles, fuel to get… well, fuel to get really anywhere that isn’t work. You get the idea. If it’s a way to relax that isn’t a chore then it’s covered. Yes, even that big screen TV if that’s your pastime. Heck, let’s throw in your Netflix subscription.

Social Media will also see some changes under my watch. We’ve all received those irritating chain messages that show up to your inbox and say “let’s keep this going!” – usually around the holidays. These pesky messages are annoying at best and, at worst, can carry viruses or malware. Under my regime, the forwarding of these messages will automatically generate an email money transfer of $25.00 from your bank account to every person that you sent it to. Your social media account will then be deactivated until you can show some semblance of self-control. Honestly, we can have a Merry Christmas without a flashing Christmas tree GIF arriving from someone we speak to once every four years.

Changes will also be made in how we see political social media posts. And by that I mean, we won’t see them.  All political posts on social media will be covered or blurred (similar to the current graphic images warnings) and you will have decide if you actually want to view it. Simply scrolling will no longer subject you to the President of Russia’s head photo-shopped onto a moose or any other unsolicited quotes or opinions. Let’s be honest, never, ever, in the history of ever-ness has someone switched party allegiance because Dave from New Brunswick shared his hilarious Prime Minister meme. NEVER.

This is just a start to my election promises, but of course I will be open to more suggestions. As stated previously, listening to my constituents will be at the very foundation of my leadership role. (Except for the weird people). In the meantime, I value your input on such items as a title for myself; does “Supreme Leader” seem too magniloquent? I suppose it will depend on whether or not “King” is available. Whatever the title is, I promise to work hard for the little people. I won’t promise to ignore budgets, economies or unemployment numbers as we already have enough people in power that ignore these. Instead, whenever these issues are raised, I will proceed to stare blankly at a wall. That should be as effective as or better than most leadership strategies.

Oh, I almost forgot, puppies will be free and there will be dog parks on every corner – And we will make the Cat people pay for it.

Thank you for your support.

 

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Coffee fund

CA$5.00

The Journey

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It was 1983, the year that saw 115 million people say good bye to Captain Hawkeye Pierce and Corporal Maxwell Klinger and the rest of the 4077 as M*A*S*H ended its 11 year reign on network TV. The Police owned the radio airwaves with “Every Breath You Take” and Pierre Elliot Trudeau was back for his final term as the Prime Minister of Canada. Steve and Joanne Patenaude were as excited as any parent would be to welcome their bouncing baby boy into this world but they had no way of knowing of the journey that they were all about to embark upon. Their newborn son, Trevor, was born with acute Epilepsy.

Trevor’s epilepsy was severe. In fact, the Doctors noted that it was one of the worst cases of Epilepsy seen in British Columbia to date. As a parent it is hard to imagine the torture that Trevor’s parents would have went through as his prognosis was given: The right side of his body was paralyzed. He would be partially brain dead by the time he was a teenager. His life expectancy was not to exceed 30. As time went on there were small improvements, by the age of two he had gained use of his right side and Trevor’s diagnosis was upgraded to “wouldn’t lead a normal life” and “motorskills will diminish over time”. At this time the Patenaudes met Dr. Hill, who would become a major influence in Trevor’s battle with Epilepsy. Dr. Hill firmly believed that he could help Trevor lead a normal life. The Patenaudes quickly settled into a routine that included monthly or sometimes bi-weekly trips from Prince George to Vancouver, a distance of roughly 800 kilometres, to see Dr. Hill. For nine years.received_1371552932998952

Around the age of 9, the seizures had subsided to the point that he did what many “normal” nine year olds did – he got his first dirtbike. For the next few summers Trevor and his dad ripped up the trails around home, producing some of the best memories that they both have. The excitement of pushing limits in the dirt was born and the feeling of being a normal kid made it all the better. Trevor had found his passion but during the summer of 1996 he would learn, for the first time, how fickle a mistress a dirtbike can be. On yet another outing on the trails he was, as usual, pushing the limits of himself and his machine when he met a four wheeler on a blind corner, head on. Even with his safety gear, including a chest protector which was split in half, Trevor broke six bones and spent a month in hospital. A further two months were spent in bed at home and then the rest of the year learning how to walk for the second time in his life. Though hard work and desire, Trevor was back on a bike by Easter of 1997.

The battle with Epilepsy was not over however, and in 1999 at the age of 16, the seizures returned. The trips to the Doctor and the tests started all over again and, even worse, while all of his friends were excitedly getting their drivers licenses, Trevor was forced to wait another two years. Once again it was cruelly pointed out that he was not “normal”. For the next few years the dirtbike took a back seat, its usage getting less and less until finally in 2003 the two wheeled love of Trevor’s life was sold – it had become an expensive dust collector. Dirtbiking was now just a source of fond memories from his childhood.

As his dirtbike-free life continued, Trevor met Crystal, his future wife, and the two quickly became inseparable. As they shared their stories and she learned more about his life she could sense the hole in Trevor’s world where motorcycles had once been. In 2010 she surprised Trevor by buying him an almost new Suzuki RM250 two stroke. It was time to get back in the saddle. After a few summers of practice it was decided that his long lost dream should again become a reality: It was time to try an actual race! With the help and support of friends and family, a trade for his two stroke bike saw Trevor line up at the start gate in the beginner class on a five year old 4 stroke RMZ450. The track was muddy and it was a struggle but Trevor managed to pull off a win – out of two people. Regardless, he was hooked on racing! Now knowing how much work a race was, a gym regiment was started to get ready for the 2015 season. At this time Trevor also met Garry Logan, who welcomed him to the NR motors race team and Trevor promptly bought a new RMZ450 Suzuki to race. This purchase may or may not have been made with Crystal’s knowledge and approval, that topic of discussion shall remain between the two of them.

With a new bike, new team and a new drive to win Trevor only had one piece of the puzzle to worry about: The Epilepsy had resurfaced yet again. New tests showed that it had never really stopped in fact: An EEG discovered that Trevor was having micro-seizures all along. The number of seizures discovered shocked everyone, including the Doctors: He was having over 700 seizures per day. The Doctor was amazed that Trevor could even function in daily life, let alone work and succeed. In the Doctors’ words “imagine trying to do your desk job and your monitor is going to shut off for 1 to 4 seconds… 700 times a day – how productive would you be?”

The seizures had become a part of Trevor, so ingrained into his daily functioning that no one around him even noticed. If Trevor paused before speaking, that was just his mannerism – it had become who he was. Further tests resulted in the loss of his driver’s license again, which he would get back just in time for the race season. The leap was made from Beginner class to Veteran Junior class and the steep learning curve on the track continued: The season total was a broken nose, two cracked ribs, two separated shoulders, a sprained ankle and a concussion – which is never a good thing for someone suffering from epilepsy. More importantly, to Trevor at least, the season ended with a placement of 8th overall and a renewed dedication to the next season, which would see a move over to the blue team when his friend Jon Giroday brought him under the PG Motorsports banner on a new Yamaha YZF450. A calmer approach to riding meant that Trevor was getting smoother and more controlled and by 2017 he was catching the top 5 fastest of his class.

Through all of this, Crystal and Trevor had gotten their kids into motocross as well, teaching them the passion and dedication required to be successful on the track. The little racers quickly became known throughout the circuit and were setting their own goals to achieve. Late in the season of 2017, in a highlight moment of his life, Trevor found himself standing on the podium for the first time with his son Lyndon also holding down a podium spot. No one knew that making the podium together would never happen again.received_2986455278095825

In September of 2017 the Patenaude family was at the Hard Knox MX track to ride. Trevor’s parents had made it out and it was the first time his mom had seen Trevor ride since he was a kid. There was a challenging double jump that Trevor had been wanting to nail but previous attempts had been hampered by gusty wind. Today was calm and the conditions were favourable so Trevor rolled into it a few times, backing down at the last moment. He told his son Lynden “see buddy, even grown-ups get scared sometimes” – a statement that would surely impact Lyndon ’s riding career in the future.received_674121109738624

On the lead in to the jump Trevor’s bike kicked sideways, scrubbing off some needed speed. He corrected with more throttle but an overcompensation made Trevor run long on the landing, putting his bike down hard on the flats instead of the downhill slope of the jump. The impact drove his legs down past the pegs holding his foot, pushing his toes up towards his shins. The instant pain told Trevor that this was a bad one and he rode to a stop, calling to his dad for help. As shock set in, Trevor was able to stand on his “good” leg and lean against his bike while his dad went for the truck. It was later revealed that his good leg wasn’t actually good at all – shock can make people do amazing things. The bike was loaded and they headed to the hospital, thinking a broken ankle was on the agenda. Crystal, herself an Emergency RN, was called and told they weren’t going to make it home for dinner. Trevor’s history of 22 broken bones and 12 surgeries ensured that there was no shortage of friendly faces at the hospital waiting for him, but this time was different. This break was bad. X-rays showed a need for multiple surgeries and his Doctor impressed upon him that this was going to be a very long road. The concern on the Doctors face is what caught Trevor off guard. As he explained that this was more than just a broken ankle, this time the injury is different – this one is SEVERE – Trevor realized that there was the real possibility of never fully recovering. On the way home, the reality of this situation set in. It was no longer a question of when he could ride again, instead it was a question of if he could walk again. A question of whether the pain would ever go away. He thought of the timeline the Doctor had given him: 3 months in bed and 6 months until he could “maybe” put weight on his ankles. He thought of the family and their active life with the boys in hockey for the winter, the off season training for motocross – how could he just miss all of that? For the first time, Trevor broke down and began to cry.received_441836409757972

The next 3 months saw Trevor laying on the same bed, looking out the same window, each and every day. The bed rest was reminiscent of his four wheeler crash when he was a child, watching everyone’s lives go by while he lay immobilized. He had zero feeling in his right foot and ankle but the nerve pain was unbearable. It took weeks just to get it under control and even then, the pain wasn’t really under control – He just took enough Dilaudid that he could pass out and avoid the agony. Eventually Trevor was given the go ahead to start moving around, using a wheelchair to get himself to the washroom and see sights other than the same wall he had been staring at. Bedrest at home was better than in the hospital but the lack of mobility was still frustrating. In a moment of ambition, he transitioned himself out of his wheelchair and lifted himself up the stairs, one step at a time, dragging his wheelchair behind him, to get to the “big TV” and the fridge. While he was proud of his achievement, his wife Crystal was not so impressed: She was furious at his risk filled adventure up the stairs and its potential for disaster.

Finally it was time to learn to walk again! With his legs feeling like spaghetti (a feeling well remembered from when he was 12) Trevor made gains in his mobility. He quickly learned how far he could walk each day while trying to keep the pain in check. 2000 steps meant the pain was intense but bearable. 3000 steps meant the next day would be spent in bed. The excruciating pain that welcomed him each morning made sure that he monitored exactly how far he pushed. Through this process, a problem was detected with his right ankle: it was not aligned properly and the pain was not getting better as it should have. The foot remained without feeling but the ankle more than made up for it, feeling like flaming knives were being pushed into it daily. The pain coupled with the stalled progress on his step count began to wear on Trevor’s optimism. He started to wonder how he could live the rest of his life like this. As supportive as his family was, he began to feel like a burden with no hope.

Another meeting with the surgeon was in order, this time to look at what options were available for the next step, pain control being the main topic of discussion. The discussion was dark, the reality harsh: They could re-break the ankle, straighten and align it, and then fuse it in place, removing all motion except up and down. If the pain still persisted then there was only one option left if he wanted to ever walk more than 2000 steps: he had to consider amputation and a prosthetic device. Trevor understood that the Doctor was giving him the “worst case scenario” but the emotions took over. As Crystal helped him to the truck, he cried tears of frustration. And tears of anger. They decided to try the option of fusing the ankle.

After the surgery, the recovery process started all over again and Trevor’s mind began to drive down to a darker place. He felt useless again, unable to provide for his family, unable to help out around the house. He thought about all of the things that used to keep him happy: hiking with his wife, riding his bike, playing with his kids – each thought made it worse and he wondered if he would ever do any of those activities again. Perhaps they should just remove his ankles and be done with it. The frustration was immeasurable. So many months had passed and here he was, back at square one. Through social media Trevor had met others with injuries, one very similar to his, who were leaving him in the dust on the recovery road. He was, of course, happy for their progress but it pointed out how slow and painful his journey was. Why couldn’t anything go right? Why was life so cruel? The surgeon said the ankle looked good now, was fused straight and was healing, but nothing was going fast enough for Trevor. The next 8 months were spent trying, and failing, to get his life back. The pain, while better, was still always lurking in the shadows, ready to rear up and cruelly remind Trevor when he pushed too far. The chronic pain coupled with the lack of mobility also brought on a steady weight gain, something that Trevor had historically struggled with anyway. The entire journey was weighing heavily on Trevor, taking his mindset to a dark and unhappy place. Up to this point, his natural charm and smile had nearly everyone fooled, his spirit bright to the outside world while Trevor’s inner misery remained hidden. But as the weeks turned into months, the burden would no longer stay buried. His face began to show the depression and torment that was carried inside. Friends and family noticed the change in his demeanor and would ask if he was ok, frustrating him even more. How could he yell out “What the F**K do you think??” to his friends? Trevor was at a crossroads where many people are unable to return from.

Fortunately Trevor finally opened up about his inner feelings, letting those who loved him inside, letting them help. Diet and nutrition was something he could work on without his ankles, something tangible to learn about and improve. Everything was changed, right down to the water he drank and the improvements were immediate. His workouts got better, his recovery times faster, his energy levels rising – and all in measurable quantities that he could track. Why hadn’t he realized how important diet and nutrition was before? The mindset improvement alone was worth it, the physical improvements a by-product of his new attitude and drive. He finally could see that he was going to live again. received_1133647836829618

In the back of his mind however there was still one little bug that remained an annoyance, and as he got the rest of his life back, that little bug grew incessantly louder. If you ask any rider who crashes, the number one thing they think about is when they can ride again. That had been stolen from Trevor as his number one thought to date had been whether he would even walk again. As his body improved, the need to ride again became as real as the moment he had first crashed. The reality was, racing again was not an option. With 16 rods and plates holding his ankles together, any further injury would be catastrophic and there would be no coming back.

One of the things that had always bothered Trevor was how his racing career had ended. From standing on the podium with his son to never riding again in an instant. He had always assumed that it would be up to him when the time was right to retire and the thought of a forced ending had never crossed his mind. The plan was made to try and fix that, to have one more day as a racer. One more track walk, one more riders meeting, one more gate drop as they were all deeply missed and would have been more appreciated each time had it been known in advance that they were to be his last. In talks with Garry Logan, who originally welcomed Trevor to his team in years previous, it was decided (with explicit approval from his wife Crystal of course) that Forest Power Sports would get Trevor on a bike for one last race, as well as the gear to do so! This plan made Trevor redouble his training regimen as he knew exactly what level of physical fitness was required to finish a moto without vomiting in your helmet – that and he needed to lose a pants size before raceday if he was going to fit into his team gear!received_487537091828504  

When the day came, Trevor was astonished at how humbling the experience was, the support from other riders and teams unimaginable. Their level of respect and appreciation during the riders meeting and practice sessions was nothing short of amazing. But now it was time to get serious. As Trevor sat at the start gate he closed his eyes, dropped his head and tried to calm himself. He thought about the long road he had travelled to be here and he tried to focus on his gratitude instead of his nerves. He thought about the role model he was for his children. He thought about the support from his family and friends and he thought about the support from his wife and her undying love. He didn’t know how or why she was able to put up with everything they had been through but he did know one thing: There is no way that he would be here without her.

The 5 second board turned sideways (indicating the gate is about to drop) as he looked up and he caught himself holding his breath. He stared at the starting gate and grabbed a handful of throttle. It had been 727 days since he had been in this position and as the gate dropped he ran on pure instinct, grabbing gears and looking ahead to the first turn. Trevor found himself very near the front as they entered the first corner and he charged hard with the pack. Motocross racing is one of, if not the most demanding physical sport in the world and it didn’t take long for his lack of seat time to become apparent. After pushing for a few laps Trevor remembered why he was here and backed off, letting some of the faster riders by and simply enjoyed the moment and the fun of being on the track. Over the course of the weekend he never hit the first turn any less than in third place and even managed to finish in the top ten (out of 27 riders) for one race. As Trevor rolled back into the pits after the final race of the weekend Crystal hugged him and said “It’s over!” and he replied “yeah… it really is. We did it!” He squeezed her harder than he ever had before.

Looking back at his entire journey Trevor can pick out many defining moments that have helped him become the person that he is today. He knows that his kids look up to him as role model. He knows that he has instilled a sense of passion for life, especially motocross, in his son’s hearts, as his father did for him. He has learned the power of healthy eating and nutrition for mind, body and spirit. He has learned the power of perseverance and how important a positive mindset is. He has learned what true gratitude in life is. But most of all, he has learned the power of teamwork and that as long as he has his wife and family by his side they can take on anything.

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The Yellow Dress

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It was a picture perfect day, the sun shining brightly, the kind of day a Mom dreams of for her daughter’s wedding. Her little girl looked so gorgeous in her pretty yellow dress, which was untraditional of course but it was her daughter’s favourite colour so the choice was obvious. She thought back, yellow had been her baby girls favourite for as long as she could remember; from running and squealing amongst the dandelions as a toddler to proudly proclaiming that Belle was the best Disney Princess (look at her dress mom!), the colour had always held her daughters adoration. Mom finds her thoughts drifting to her daughter’s high school prom, again with an elegant yellow dress, hair and makeup done to perfection. That infectious and slightly mischievous smile her daughter wore always brightened her day, made her world a better place and she would cherish that moment forever. Her beautiful daydream was interrupted by a well-dressed man somberly offering his condolences. Who was he? She couldn’t place it, he was familiar but there were so many people around. Her confusion opened the door back to reality and it all came crashing in, a tsunami of grief and sorrow. There was no wedding and there would be no prom; Cancer had taken those dreams away. Her baby girl was only 6 years old and the pretty yellow dress her daughter has on is the one she will be buried in today.

The Top Button

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I’m a guy and I hang up clothes the way most guys do: if it manages to stay off the floor then I’ve done my job. In our household there are no “blue” and “pink” jobs, my wife and I share responsibilities, chores and duties as required. You are just as likely to find my wife shoveling the driveway while I cook dinner as the other way around, we are not fussy. Laundry however is one area where I do lack behind her just a little. Ok, maybe a lot. Laundry has become mostly her job, and ability plays no small part in this reasoning. She meticulously sorts colours and fabric types for each load, while I have three categories: things that are white, things that used to be white, and things that I’m unsure what to do with so I leave them in the bottom of the hamper for her to wash.

Which brings me back to my clothes hanging abilities. When I hang up one of my shirts, I stuff the hanger into the sleeves and presto, done! On the other hand, my wife likes to make things perfect; she makes sure the hanger is sitting correctly on the shoulders and she pulls the sleeves taught, double checking that the hems are flat and not rolled up. She fusses with the collar, putting it upright and even, with no wrinkles or creases. To hold the shirt perfectly in place on the hanger she also does up the top button – you know that little one right at the collar that is almost impossible fasten? She says this holds the shirt nice and square and keeps it looking sharp. She says she likes me to look good.

When I am rushing for work in the morning and I try to grab a shirt off of the hanger I have to pause and wrestle with that little button – the one that is so hard to undo and usually requires that I put things down and use both hands to get my shirt free of its shackle. Do I sigh and roll my eyes impatiently because I have to fight with this little button during my morning rush? Absolutely not. I know that this button is done up purely out of love. She has put in extra effort for the soul benefit of me looking better (and honestly, I need all the help I can get).

In a hectic world full of short cuts and efficiencies, where “good enough” is often the norm, these kinds of little details can easily go unnoticed, so when you do come across them, be sure to appreciate it. Take the time to notice when someone puts in that little extra effort just for you. My wife and I do a lot for each other in life and this little button has become a small symbol; a daily reminder to look after the little things for each other.

May you all be lucky enough to have someone take the time to fasten your top button.

The Moosinator Car Cleaning System

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If you are like me, you hate digging under the seats of your vehicle to clean out the black hole that seems to exist there. Worry no more, I have developed a great new system for checking for lost gloves, empty coffee cups or a rogue French-fry lost in the dark abyss beneath your heated faux leather command center. My system is quite amazing in its simplicity and its ease of use ensures that anyone can do it. Simply head out on the highway and get yourself up to an acceptable speed, usually as fast as the law will allow. Many times this velocity is actually a number well above the posted maximum legal limit, but the whole outlaw discussion is for another time so let’s stick to “normal” highway speed.

Now comes the tricky part. What you need to do is find a moose. Not just any old lazy moose either. This system does not work if Mr. Moose is standing in the ditch contemplating the many wrong decisions he has made in his life while chewing on a willow. No, you need the Usain Bolt of the moose world. He needs to come out of the ditch like the starting pistol was actually a 30:06 and the starter just flashed his hunting license. The moose needs to not look and not think, just RUN. If the timing is right, this mad sprint for a gold medal in the Moolympics will be on a perfect course to intercept your path at precisely the middle of your grill.

Now that you have successfully set up two intercepting vectors between you (sipping your double-double while Neil Diamond assures you the good times never seemed so good) and a rampaging Bullwinkle (who has decided that the willows on the other side of the highway are the equivalent of Moosy heroin) it is time to put the last touches on my plan. You see, at this point the only way to avoid this collision is for YOU to act. If you have chosen your moose correctly he will not waver from his bull-headed charge (I will allow you to groan at that one) so you need to stop. Fast.

As you instinctively try to avoid death by pushing the brake pedal through the floorboard it is a good time to find a name for your new friend, the moose. (Note – if you are not instinctively trying to avoid dying then you may need a life coach and possibly a hobby). Naming your Moose will be easy as the name ideas will come to your mind very quickly – and most of them will be four letter derivatives. Don’t just trust how they sound in your head either, scream some of these names out at the top of your lungs to test if they fit the moose’s personality. I suspect that they will, at least mine did – especially the one that referenced his mother and ended in “ucker”. Yeah that suits him well.

That’s all there really is to this new cleaning system. You can now reach down and pick up every item that was under your seat as it has slid forward for easy access. Depending on whether you have kids or not, this cleanup may or may not require gloves or a hazmat suit – thankfully my children have grown so I mostly had gloves, tools, a dog toy and a couple of M & M’s. Not bad. Of course some negative Nellies will say “But isn’t it easier to just clean under your seat?” to which I say nay-nay. Life is too short to do things the hard way – my system requires very little effort. The adrenaline rush is an incredibly cool side effect too; the Moosinator will clean your car and give you all the excitement of a failed parachute. I may even approach the X-Games to see if they are interested in this as an extreme sport.

Fair warning, there is a slight downside to this fabulous plan: As clean as the floor under the seats of your vehicle may become, this system does take its toll on your underwear. I won’t go into too much graphic detail but suffice it say that your underwear may become decidedly not clean. Luckily for me my wife does most of the laundry though so it’s not a problem; I’ll just hide them at the bottom of the basket.

 

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The Most Wonderful Time of the Year?

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How he loved this time of year. He enjoyed watching all of the seasons come and go, but this one had always been his favourite. The colourful lights strung across storefronts, the Christmas music playing softly, the friendly smiles from strangers. Tonight was also the official City Light-up Ceremony so there was more activity than usual downtown. The giant Christmas tree stood proudly, covered with decorations, its bright lights visible from blocks away. Kids were running around squealing with glee, both hands full of candy canes and hot chocolate, not caring that it spilled as they slid and played in the snow covered square. It wouldn’t be long until the parents would be shooing these children off to bed, telling them they must fall asleep quickly for Santa to come. His thoughts harkened back to his own childhood, remembering the excitement of this magical season; the treats, the toys, the goodwill, and of course the family and friends. Like most children, the toys had been his favourite part of the holidays but as he grew older he realized that the family gatherings were what really counted. He fondly recalled the smell of turkey throughout the house as the family dinner was prepared. He would warm his hands by the stove, cheeks red from an adventurous afternoon out in the snow with his brothers. They always knew it was time to come in when the sun had set and the brightly coloured Christmas lights their dad had hung from the eaves were the only thing left to light their way through the snow. He started to wonder what his brothers were up to tonight, wondered if they were somewhere in the crowd with their own children now… but he quickly brushed those thoughts aside. Thoughts like that only brought pain and he was in too good of a mood tonight. Besides, this festive season would end soon enough, the cold darkness of January would set in and people would go back to staring at their shoes to avoid eye contact as they walked past him. He breathed a lonely sigh as he sat down on his ragged cardboard matt in the alley that he called home. He pulled his knees to his chest and hunched his collar up a little higher over his bare neck; it was going to be another long, cold night on the street. “Merry Christmas” he mumbled to himself.

The Academy Award Goes To: Living With Pain

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People who live with persistent pain are big fakers. There, I said it. I live with someone with persistent pain every day and I see this acting first hand. She is such a good actor in fact that even as close as we are, sometimes I miss the signs. Oh, she isn’t acting about having pain – that part is very real. She is just great at pretending everything is normal.

My wife keeps herself incredibly busy since leaving work on permanent disability due to MS. She is usually up long past my bedtime and often up again in the morning before I leave for work. She is on several volunteer boards and is constantly stepping in to help with fund raisers, support groups and other noble causes. On top of this she trains our dogs, including a future brace and mobility service dog for herself, which requires on average 5 hours of work each day. She helps our daughters with everything she can, from life planning to career prep and college survival. Of course we also have our normal life commitments of dinners, birthdays, family gatherings and holidays – all of which she takes the lead on organizing and hosting, decorating, cooking and planning. Throw in a list of doctors’ appointments and trips out of town to see specialists and I honestly get tired just watching her go.

I’m telling you this so that you may understand how easy it is to forget that through all of it, her MS list of symptoms includes pain. Every day she has to fight through it, willing her body to push past the desire to give in, to just quit and let the pain win. And from the outside looking in, most people have no idea this battle is happening. The telltale signals are subtle but they are there; she will often start to wring her hands quietly. Perhaps her answers to ordinary questions get a little bit short. Sometimes she may say that she needs to sit and have a tea in the middle of a project that is under time restraint. Maybe she will tell me that we should leave her car in town and she will just catch a ride home with me “to save gas”. Each of these little things gives me a tiny glimpse into how her pain level is on any particular day; and these little cues are so very easy to miss. So if I, her husband and closest ally, have trouble catching the subtleties between a “good” day and a bad one, what chance does a stranger have of knowing that sometimes she is struggling just to stand up? The short answer is ZERO.

We need to be aware of the persistent pain that exists, often in invisibility, and realize that we most likely interact with someone suffering with pain every day; recent stats suggest that as many as 6 million Canadians suffer from persistent pain. That is about 19% of the population, almost one in five and trust me, they are very good at hiding it.

Every person suffering from persistent pain has their own path to follow, their own degree of pain to endure, their own level of tolerance, and their own methods of coping. This journey is often a very private and personal one and no one else can honestly say how “bad” someone else has it. I obviously cannot speak for all pain sufferers but I do have knowledge of what my wife goes through on a daily basis. (Note I said “knowledge” – I won’t do her or any other persistent pain sufferers the disservice of pretending I understand what it’s like). I see how she mentally beats herself up when her body refuses to cooperate and she is forced to miss an event she had looked forward to. The guilt she belies upon herself if she is not feeling up to helping someone as she had planned. The frustration she feels when she doesn’t get everything accomplished that she had wanted to that day. Through it all she keeps on a brave face that most of the world cannot see past. “But you look so good” or “You don’t look sick” are commonly heard from people when they find out she has MS. There is no way for them to know or understand how much effort goes into appearing normal. She, like so many others, is a fantastic actor. What these actors can use is some compassion from us, the supporting cast. Be kind. Some days it’s hard to keep a smile through the pain.

Back to basics – Saving money or saving our souls?

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Not that long ago the world was a simpler place, although it may have been more work than we have currently grown accustomed to; we only need to talk to our parents or our grandparents for a glimpse into what life was like before all of the conveniences came along to make every moment of our day easier. Some of us are old enough to remember a lot of it ourselves; my wife, for example, recalls when running water was put into her grandma’s house for the first time. (Age joke removed so that I may continue to live). It’s easy to take for granted the things that were considered luxuries not very far back in history.

As our kids were growing up my wife and I followed the “normal” life path, working hard on career building, upgrading skills, fighting for promotions and salary increases while balancing a busy schedule brought about by endless evenings of sports, dance and other extracurricular activities. We ran non-stop to afford our kids every opportunity we could give them. We upgraded to a very large brand new house with enough bedrooms for everyone to have their own. We bought vehicles that could haul everyone. We were, by all accounts, living the so-called “Canadian dream”. To be fair I wouldn’t change a bit of it either, that’s not what this is about. We loved every minute of it.

As our kids started moving out of the house to spread their wings and leave their own mark on this world, we found that the big beautiful house we built was a little bit excessive for just the two of us. We joked that we only needed to clean three rooms as we never ventured in to most of the others anymore. We started to look at the mortgage as a burden, not a point of pride. We started to discuss the prospect of “downsizing” – but how could we? We had built our dream house ourselves, raised the kids there, buried pets there, held proms, graduations, birthday parties and endless Christmas parties there – we couldn’t possibly leave could we?

Recently my wife and I had a large change in lifestyle and it has given us new perspectives on some things, some appreciation of other things and a change in priority on a lot of things: In the middle of our downsize decision process my wife was diagnosed with Multiple Sclerosis and went off work on permanent disability – see her story here. This series of unfortunate events gave us the push we needed, it was time to find a smaller house – preferably one with less stairs for her to bounce down. Now if we had simply moved to a small house then that would be the end of this, and frankly it would be a rather boring story, but here is where we get back to the “modern conveniences” topic I originally mentioned.

A wise friend once said to me “you can live in your career and commute to your lifestyle or live in your lifestyle and commute to your career – I choose lifestyle”. These words nailed the thought process in our decision to move out of town to a humble little house (which we fondly call “our ugly little box”) in the country. While I now have a longer commute to work, we have access to sledding, hiking, biking, fishing, swimming, berry picking and canoeing all within literal seconds of our front door. A pretty decent trade off in my book.

Part of this downsizing out to the country also brought a return to a simpler style of living. While our house does have a natural gas furnace, we do much of our heating with wood. The warmth and light of a crackling fire in the living room on a cold and snowy day is something we both love. Of course this also gives me an excuse to use my chainsaw as much as possible during the summer to be sure the woodshed is full before winter hits. A lot of people I talk to turn up their nose at the thought of cutting, splitting and hauling firewood but truth be told, I enjoy it. I have to apologize to my dad for the grief I gave him when it was time to help with firewood when I was a kid: I had no idea how much work he was actually doing, or how little work I was probably doing. I can only hope that he enjoyed it then as I do now.

Our new house also does not have a clothes dryer. With only the two of us to get clothes dirty we now have a drying rack to hang our clothes by the fire during the winter months and we simply hang them outside during the summer. Again, a little more work perhaps but the energy (and financial) savings are huge and putting on clothes crisp and fresh off the line is fantastic. I’ve been told that clothes last longer without the beating and abuse that a dryer puts them through as well, not a big deal but a bonus if it’s true.

We have no dishwasher. Yes you read that correctly. When dinner is done we actually fill a sink with hot water and (GASP!) get our hands wet! It honestly takes about the same amount of time as loading and unloading the dishwasher and again, big energy savings. A drying rack on the counter and its done. Unless of course it’s a day where Carla did some baking, in which case it may take two weeks to even find the kitchen sink, let alone get them all washed. That gal can go through dishes when she gets on a tear in the kitchen let me tell you.

Are you sitting down for this next one? If you are ready I shall continue… We have NO MICROWAVE OVEN. There. I said it. If we want to thaw something out we have to plan ahead and pull it out of the freezer the day before. If we want to reheat something it goes back on the stove. Or eat it cold. Either way is usually fine. It is hard to believe that just 30 short years ago only one in four houses even had a microwave oven. That number didn’t break 50% until the mid 90’s. If you ask around today, the common belief is that before the microwave age people lived like savages. We are surviving just fine, I assure you.

There is another peculiarity about our little house that you may notice were you to venture through the humble abode, and that is we have only one television. (Peculiar if you go by the accepted average of three per house anyway). And it’s small. And there is no cable hooked to it. We watch a little bit of online monthly subscription television but the days of having a TV running 24/7 are long gone. It’s nicer to be outside to be honest.

There is a reason I am sharing these little things with you – I am hoping to inspire some of you to think about a simpler life. Take pride in doing the easy things yourself. Hang up a load of laundry. Handwash some dishes. Turn off the TV, grab a book and head outside. We all like to save on our power bill by changing a few light bulbs over but for us this downsize has gone a lot further: Our current power bill is hovering around 1/5 of what it was in our old house. That’s an 80% decrease! Beyond the health and mental benefits we have found, these savings alone makes a little extra effort worthwhile. We dove into this “new” lifestyle with both feet and we couldn’t be happier. You don’t always have to “keep up with the Joneses”, just do what you love and perhaps you will find that the “Joneses” will start trying to keep up with you.

 

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Online Buying and Selling – bargain hunting or a twisted social experiment?

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We live in an age of unfathomable technology and information. The world is, quite literally, at our fingertips. We can be sitting on the couch watching Seinfeld reruns, pick up our phone and place an order for a George Costanza bobblehead figurine from another country and have it shipped to our doorstep in time for Festivus. At the touch of a button we can live-chat with friends and family from across the globe, or connect with total strangers and build new friendships. It truly is an amazing time to be alive. Unfortunately this technology combined with our love of “stuff” has a dark side. A deep pit of maleficent activity where even the most pure of hearts can be destroyed in seconds. If you ever feel that humanity is doing well and that mankind is progressing forward towards utopia, armed with a level of knowledge and intelligence that has never before been imagined, then simply visit an online Buy and Sell page; you will be brought crashing back to earth as you realize that people can really be senseless imbeciles.

I realize that this is a pretty strong generalization to make about the human species but to be fair, anyone who has spent any amount of time trying to sell something online will be in full agreeance with my assertion. Where else can you put out an ad for a red bicycle and have no fewer than three people (people who somehow manage to function in daily life) promptly proceed to ask what colour the bike is. They walk among us – and they make me want to hit my head on the desk. BONK BONK BONK.

For whatever reason, people seem to stop reading immediately after the item headline. In fact, often they don’t even make it that far; perhaps they just needed a nap. You can put all of the information that anyone could possibly want – Make, model, size, colour, age, price, serial number, history dating back to the day it was made in a third world factory – but regardless of that, someone will skip over every detail and start throwing out questions that you have already answered.

Your ad: “Fits 2003 to 2005 Chevy pickups only”

First response: “Will it fit a 1972 Dodge?” BONK BONK BONK

 

Your ad: “Extra Large – I bought it for my German Shepherd but it’s too big”

First response: “Will it fit my Chihuahua?” Well, maybe if little Pedro is crossed with a Woolly Mammoth, but otherwise I’m gonna say “no” – BONK BONK BONK

 

The frustration of trying to answer questions from people who can’t be bothered to read can be offset by the humour of reading other people’s for-sale ads. Being a ‘professional salesperson’ I always get a chuckle out of some individual’s attempts at writing a sales ad for whatever item they have deemed expendable in their life. Some of these ads are intentionally humourous (and kudos to those people) but some of them try far too hard to convince me just what a bargain their item is. Some of the common catch phrases that I enjoy are:

“I just want it gone” – no, no you don’t. If you just wanted that old pee stained mattress gone it would be free. You want it gone plus $50.00.

“I just want what I paid for it” – Well isn’t that a special deal. If I wanted one for what you paid for it, I would go to the store and buy one for what you paid for it. Thanks anyway.

“Save the taxes” – again, that is not much of a bargain there, Edith. I don’t like taxes any more than the next person but if that’s the only difference between a new one from a store with warranty or scraping the cat hair and your kids Popsicle stains off of your prized possession, I will stick with the new one thanks.

“Woman driven / ridden / owned” – these ones always crack me up, and not for the stereotypical (and incorrect) “women can’t drive” discourse. When it comes to things like bikes, snowmobiles, cars or other motorized vehicles, there are many women who have tons of talent and use their recreational products to the absolute limit of its engineered design. If you think that “lady owned” means the item you are shopping for hasn’t done a second gear smokeshow through the parking lot or cleared a 70 foot tabletop jump, you’d be wrong. Also, if you’re using this as a marketing tool, stop it. It’s not 1950.

“Trades only, won’t sell” – this one always perplexes me. What if someone offered you a million dollars? Would you sell it then? Of course you would, so we know you’re a liar already. These ads are usually followed by a completely unrealistic trade value request so I suspect they are just hunting for a sucker. Example “1983 widgetmobile, rusty, doesn’t run. Won’t sell, trade only for Ferrari or possibly the Hope Diamond”

There are other fun filled areas that could be noted, such as those annoying people who feel the need to point out that they don’t like the product you are selling or why they think the price is too high. Even worse are those people who say they will buy something and then don’t show up to get it, but those people are not even worth discussing – They are the online equivalent to the black slime inside of an old toilet tank; just leave it covered and pretend it’s not there and you will be much happier. Most of the problems with online Buy and Sell pages could be alleviated if both the buyers and sellers paid even the tiniest bit of attention to what they are actually reading or writing. The concept is easy: Sellers – write down what you are selling with enough information for the buyer to be interested and Buyers – actually read this information and decide if you want to purchase the item. It’s really not rocket science. Now if you will excuse me I’ve got a guy on the line who wants to trade some white wall tires for a bag of used Tupperware lids.