i’m sorry

I’m sorry. Honestly, I am. I have been a terrible blogger. No, I am not seeing any other blogs, I’ve just been busy…seriously busy. Yet despite a hectic couple months, I have thought about you often. I’ve drafted posts as I walk lil g and Bella around town, or crafted opening lines as I drifted off to sleep. And while my intentions were always sincere to return to the keyboard, it just didn’t happen.

So what’s kept me so busy, you may be wondering? Well, December we attempted to break a Guiness WorldBook of records for number of house guests. Ten guests in total. We started slow with one, then three, then four, then back to two. Most of the time, we were picking up new visitors from the plane that turned around and took our old visitors home. It made “turn-over” at the Inn a speedy process, and I loved it.

Having people visit is fun. Not only do they usually bring big city treats like fancy cheese, Japanese condiments, lotions and yummy bottles of wine – they also remind me of a pace that can only exist in urban centres. I can visibly see “city-slickers” go through a transition when they come to island. For some, it’s a slowing down process when they realize there is nothing to do but re-connect with a neglected book, make a meal, or walk the beach. For others, it’s the technological cleanse. Without a TV, some people are forced to re-adjust their internal clock (“but shouldn’t I be watching Oprah right now?”), or our cell phone junkies who find themselves out of range… and out of constant texting, facebook updating, email pings…

December was a full-on family and friends frenzy. Home-made meals over copious wine, beach walks, visits to the “school bus cafe” (neither jay nor his mom believed me that inside this broken down bus awaited fresh coffee and home made treats), movies and facials, never-ending board games, hot tubbing and great conversation.

Then came January. (Uh, ya, the month after December?) On the 4th we received two interesting phone calls. The first was from a close friend telling us about a great little home that had just come on the market and was priced right. The second call was from our landlord  notifying us that him and his wife were moving back into this house (they’ve been living with their son’s family on Vancouver Island waiting for this place to sell). We have two months to vacate.

So, we took our friend’s advice and checked out a cookie cutter home (an old military model that is all over town) and after a short but emotional ride, it looks like we’re homeowners!! Details are still being worked out, but should mean we’re in our new digs on May 1st.

Another chapter in the life of an urban girl with a small town heart!

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one year one week one day

On November 14th, 2010 lil g came into this world – with a great deal of help from me I might add. And so I thought it fitting to throw a party in honour of both babe and mama. Now, this may sound selfish – including myself in the celebration of our daughter’s first year – but really, she doesn’t know it’s her birthday and besides, a happy mama (wife) means a happy household (life).

Since many of our baby-family friends are scattered throughout the island, I concocted what I considered to be a brilliant plan to rent cabins out on the beach… ten minutes from our house. This way, no one deals with their own dishes or cleaning, no one has piles of laundry staring them in the eye and there is no agenda other than to enjoy the beach, great food and each other’s company. No arms needed to be twisted and within hours of the initial email being sent out, everyone was on board.

The posse included 9 adults, 7 children and 3 dogs the first night, and 11 adults, 8 children and 4 dogs the second – with no child older than 2.5 yrs old. It was a sight to behold and at times, complete mayhem. But totally fun and will likely end up being an annual event.

Saturday night was the official “dance-party night” which meant DJ Jay was in the house with inebriated mamas in the front row dusting off their rusty moves.  Sunday offered up perfect kite flying weather for all the “big kids” – and I mean the very big ones.  Between the incredible home cooked meals, dips in the hot tub, and crispy forest walks – the weekend totally re-charged my gratitude for living in such a beautiful place, with wonderful people and a bounty of healthy kids all around.

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times they are a changin’

This year marks a time of action as the world watches countries such as Egypt, Lybia, and Tunisia forge change through civil uprisings. Public protests in Bahrain, Syria and Yeman further illustrate the tides of change washing over our globe. Like great tectonic plates, majors shifts alter our present times, making new history and a changed landscape forever.

And on the home front…. Jason Thompson runs for town council in Masset! Yes, the size and scope of this act more than pales in comparison, however, it does denote that change isn’t always something we watch from afar,  but rather a question we ask ourselves. How would I like to be a part of positive change? What lies unsettled within me? From which bubbles answers as unique as ourselves. Perhaps it’s volunteering overseas, taking a meal over to a single mom, or … running for town council.

As Jay’s official campaign manager, we ran on a simple platform for increased civic engagement (currently the public does not attend open council meetings), beautification of our town, increased support for local businesses and improved social services for residents. Sadly, I was away with work for the all-candidates debate, but since my return I have heard encouraging comments ranging from good impressions to rave reviews. We made buttons based on the “I Heart NY” logo signifying Jay’s love for this place and his belief that things can get even better (with a little love…). Seven candidates ran for four seats to join acclaimed major Andrew Merilees.

Politics in a town of approximately 1000 means you never know what will happen. A rampant case of bad rumours could be the nail in the coffin. Likewise, get enough people on your side (the talkers) and it’s in the bag. We waited on the edge of our seats as the tallies came in last night, on November 19th. And at 10pm , we heard the news.

Congratulations Town Councillor – I am proud of you and our town!

 

Saturday Drive

Despite the fact we’re going into our third year on the island, there are still quite a number of things on our “Haida Gwaii to-do” list.  However, I am happy to report that one such item has been completed. It’s a certain drive I’ve always wanted to do.

At the end of North Beach is Rose Spit – a sand bar that juts out towards the North like the cheeky tongue of a little kid. Beyond that is East beach whose shoreline runs along the east side of Graham Island and shares the waters of Hecate Strait with Prince Rupert. You can drive along the beach North, around the spit and over to east beach when the tides permit. It is also strongly advised to travel in groups with at least one person familiar with towing trucks out of wet or sandy situations.

We’re invited to caravan out to a friend’s half built cabin on the far side of east beach. This is our chance. We rendez-vous at 10am, load our truck with odds and ends such as a table top, rubbermaid bins of tools, and a pot full of chili. The air is crispy and nips at my nose, but the sky is bright and the winds are mild – a perfect day for beach exploration. By the time we reach the end of the pavement, about to hit beach – the sun has come out in full fall force and I am regretting not grabbing my sunglasses. We are an convoy of three trucks, one jeep and two people on quad bikes. All loaded up with whatever we can manage to carry out to the cabin – including a 5 foot window vertically fastened in the back of a pickup.

There is something exhilarating about driving down a beach. With lil g happily entertained in the back, we follow the pack between wet packed sand, to “side roads” with names like Carpenter’s Lane. These are one track paths lined with spruce, hemlock and the odd stunted cedar. After 3o minutes or so, we come to a juncture where the spit juts out to our left and east beach to the right. We turn right and are greeted by fields of beach grass, glistening in the sun as if spun gold. There is a collective sigh as we bounce through the field, captured in its light.

Our first challenge, is how to re-connect with the beach and we begin building bridges of driftwood over soft sand, until our friends on quads rescue us with news that an easier route lies just ahead. Next up, a sinking truck (not ours). With the rising tide lapping at its tires, our skilled friends rig up the ropes and rescue the truck just in time (but as if it was no big deal). The cabin is (wisely) tucked away from the shore so we pull up and “park” next to a sea of washed up driftwood, over which we walk – carrying supplies – the cabin. From there a meandering trail takes us through battered trees to the half built home.

We spend the afternoon eating chili by an outdoor fire, hoisting the new window into place, and enjoying the rugged calm that can only exist in places this remote. Changing tides signal a prompt departure and we’re back on the “beach-way” again. The day has been spectacular. I feel like a modern day pioneer, exploring untouched and dangerous landscapes, where ingenuity and hardiness are key to survival.  I vow to return, although never to do this trip by myself, for I (or at least the truck) would surely perish.

 

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size matters

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If you’re gonna to go… go big. So I live in a world where I am dwarfed by the nature that surrounds me. At times, it feels intimidating, but for the most part, I am humbled and honoured, and while I have lived most of my life in big (ish) cities – Vancouver, London, Sydney – this is the first time I have lived in big nature. Sky-scraping trees, endless ocean, powerful winds and massive mammals.

The days are getting darker and things have begun to feel damp and cold. Crafts have started to whisper for attention from knitting baskets and closets. Stoves are kept busy with tea kettles and pots of soup.  And sunny days are embraced like a long lost favourite sweater. As I prepare myself for the winter ahead, I reflect on the brighter moments that will carry me through the darker days.

 

a new hat

Unfortunately, seeking work in small, rural communities can be challenging. Especially in a time when more people are migrating to urban centres, economic times are tough and primary industry is crumbling. That being said – if you’re willing to be flexible, other opportunities can come along that you may not have considered otherwise. Such has been the case for me.

Contemplating my re-entry into the workforce after being home with my baby for the past ten months has felt daunting to say the least. I have hummed and hawed over a half dozen possibilities – subbing vs. one hour a day teaching vs. a job at the bank… all have their pros and cons. Some offer great benefits, but would limit my ability to work other jobs. Or flexibility with crummy pay. But like dipping my toes in and out of a cold lake – I just have to jump. So with great gusto I applied for a casual position with our local airline.

Now let me back up for a moment to say that other than my first job at Fabricland, or working a silly toy tent at the PNE one summer  – I have ALWAYS been a teacher. From volunteering in classrooms to teaching practicums to the real deal – I have identified (professionally at least) as a teacher for the past fifteen+ years. And now, a new hat. Customer Service Agent. It is sort of a dream come true – in that I show up, work hard and leave. No meetings, no prepping, no marking, no inventing new lessons, no worrying about a student or family, no reports (although with the teacher strike on this year, other teachers aren’t doing these things either, but that’s besides the point). For now, it’s perfect. I get to have my own time, to make a little money, to be excited about picking up g from my friend’s place, and last but not least – standby flights for Jay and I.

Instantly, the feeling of isolation and distance from friends and family that has hung in the air since we moved here, has slipped away.  The knowledge that at the snap of a finger (along with free time,  space on the plane and a little money) – poof – we’re back in Vancouver. So far it’s a fun job, and while the initial learning curve has been steep, I am happy to report my baby brain is slowly getting back into better brain shape. I get excited when I radio back and forth with the pilots, or when we figure out how to balance a full plane including a ton of frozen fish, three dogs and surfboard.

For now, this is Victor, Echo, Romeo, Echo, November, Alfa – over and out.

 

mmmmmamamaaaaaaa

I don’t know if it counts for her official first words, but this morning lil g greeted us with a ddddadadada and a mmmamamamaaaa. They were long, drawn out and possibly the cutest words I have ever heard spoken. They seemed appropriately used (one for Jay and the other for me), but then I heard her greet her breakfast with similar sounding words…. hmmmm… Regardless, it made me weep inside.

I doubt anything could have prepared me for becoming a mama. I read books. I babysat. I taught kids. However hard I imagined having my own – it just seemed so far away. Pregnancy tried to help me get ready, but ended up being more of a strange time with foreign cravings in an unfamiliar body that it didn’t really do much in terms of prepping. Holding a new baby nudged the reality a little closer, although for the first while it just felt like I was pretending to be a mom.

Over the last few months I have begun to find my rhythm, my style. I have begun to acquaint myself with this new side of me, slowing building a relationship with my new found identity as “mom”. Something solidified this morning hearing those words. For lil g, there is no pretending… I am her mom and always will be. And for that I feel truly blessed and deeply grateful.

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cotton vs. halibut

Two years ago I married jay in a western town. It was a fabulous day, full of people we love and cherish, horses and whiskey, dancing and laughter. As I reflect on my meaning of marriage I am aware of a default voice that comes forward. My Polly Anna, elementary school, happy hippy voice that highlights the positive, lacking a critical eye. Things like, “Oh, I love being married” “Everything is wonderful!” “How’s my marriage? It’s Yay!”. And while all those things are true, other elements have also emerged – the stickier bits, the bits that uncontrollably sound like my parents, the less graceful but just as important bits that make us whole. I see it as my practice (or work) to either love those bits, or do something about them (at least the ones I am responsible for).

Sharing these moments may seem meaningless, unimportant or even cliched – yet they represent (for me) learning opportunities, that when left unchecked – can create tension or distance -neither of which I want. I take notice and try to perceive them as newer dimensions to our relationship – like how we squabble over whether a drive will take 35 minutes or 50 minutes, or snap when one of us talks from behind a laptop rather than making something face to face, or perhaps my rather embarrassing last-minute spazziness as I am running out the door and bark an order at jay. yuck. These aren’t moments that make me proud, but they happen none the less. They are part of this marriage. These crusty traits will only grow over time, they will mature and develop, and when the time is right – they too will be past along to our child(ren?). And so it goes…

But back to our anniversary and the good stuff. Celebrating our happy relationship once every 365 days seems a bit random to me. I often hear myself thinking how grateful I am to have jay as my partner, or how much I miss him when we’re apart. I remind myself to tell him nice things when they come to me, and ease up on any nit-picking that surfaces (bad Virgo). So far, I think we are doing swimmingly well, and despite my more frequent mini-celebrations of our great marriage, I cave and surrender to my urge to conform.

While the traditional gift for making it to the two-year mark is cotton (who came up with that?), I doubt jay would be wow’ed by a new pair of boxers from Field’s, so I fall back on a simple plan – a nice bottle of wine and a special home-cooked meal. Luckily, my friend Steph shared an incredible halibut dish with me. I accompanied the meal with a brown rice salad with avocado, edamame, and cilantro. Apparently, the way to my man’s heart is indeed through his stomach. love you jay!

Halibut with Lime-Miso Marinade
(Hollyhock Cookbook)

Serves 6

3 lbs halibut filets
3 Tb safflower oil

Marinade:
1/2 cup miso paste
1/2 cup mirin or sake
1/4 cup freshly grated ginger
zest and juice from one lime
1 scallion

Blend together all the marinade ingredients and spread evenly over the flesh of the halibut. Cover and marinate for at least 6 hours or preferably overnight. Use a rubber spatula to scrape off most of the marinade and reserve.
In a very hot, oiled frying pan, sear the top (not skin side of the fish) until it is well browned. Turn the fish, add the rest of the marinade, reduce to medium heat and cover and cook until halibut flakes at the centre and is white throughout. Serve immediately with thinly sliced scallions.

islands of beauty

Has nature ever left you breathless? Has your heart raced at the sight of something truly majestic? Have the hairs on your arms ever stood up as you witnessed something momentous? I have.

Translated Gwaii Haanas means islands of beauty, yet the name barely begins to describe how incredibly astounding this place really is. Visiting the park has been on my top to-do list since moving here, so I feel pretty pumped about the opportunity to go exploring. However, I am doing my best to reign in my high expectations since this trip feels like going to see an epic movie after everyone else in the world has bragged about it.

On a political level, Gwaii Haanas is unique in that it has been co-managed by Parks Canada and the Haida Nation since 1993. There are several important Haida Heritage sights scattered throughout the islands, and all have played an integral role in shaping Haida culture. All have a story to be shared.

So, thanks to Haida Fisheries, J’s “boss”, Fisheries workers and their immediate families are invited on a weekend trip to Hotsprings Island. Yahoo!

It’s early Friday morning and we are packed up in the truck heading to the marina in Charlotte for our 8:30am scheduled departure. Like an eagerly nervous kid on her first day of camp, I run through all my packed items… sleeping bag, gravol, veggie burgers (this is a meat-eating vessel), infant life jacket (not for me), camera, wine.

We load the gear onto a huge seiner, and while the day promises sun and salt air on my face and I have to use every ounce of “Okay Verena, just act cool” to prevent me from bursting into song. We head off (cast off?) just after 8:30am, with a couple unplanned stops along the way. Apparently this is typical…”Oh you’re going south, do you mind dropping off…”

First, we collect a Haida canoe from the Kaay Centre to be dropped off at the Rediscovery Camp. Then we have to collect not one, but two skiffs – one which will be dropped onto the deck of our boat, while the other is towed along with the canoe. Our trip south has become more of a milk-run, but I have nowhere to be but on the deck soaking up the sun, sea and coastline, so I settle in.

By the time we have collected all our items, the tides have changed, slowing down our speed and our dinner time arrival quickly changes to bedtime arrival. But the trip is a welcomed opportunity to meet some of Jay’s co-workers and family. The weather is great (well, Haida Gwaii great) and while Cathy and I stay snug in our down vests, the Haida ladies across from us enjoy shorts and bathingsuits. Apparently the other side of the deck is 15 degrees warmer! We eat enroute, arrive just as the sky darkens, tuck ourselves into our comfy bunks and allow ourselves to drift off to the sway of the ocean.

Words can’t describe how gorgeous Hotsprings Island is, so I’ll leave you with a few photos. My only advice once there – invest as much time as possible soaking in the natural hot springs and soaking up this truly special place.

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something borrowed something blue something faux something true

Among my favourite things in the world are surprise parties and dressing up. So you can imagine my “over-the-moon-ness” when I decided to throw my friends a “surprise faux wedding”!

It all came about when Jay and I realized we weren’t able to make it to their (real) wedding this July. I hate missing a good wedding. It’s one of the few moments in life where I forget about my to-do lists, errands, debts, unfinished crafts, etc and immerse myself in the gooey, gorgeous lovey-doviness of a wedding. It’s also the perfect opportunity to dust off neglected heels, get a haircut and wear a favourite dress before it’s launched out of style. Then, there are the drinks… but I won’t go into that.

Summer is a busy time for Jay and besides the typical – finding a home for the dog, someone to collect the mail and water the plants – we have to add the feat of finding affordable flights and/or coordinating the 8 hour ferry trip plus 20 hour care ride – one way. It often means being creative. And if we can’t make it TO the wedding, then I guess we’ll have to bring the wedding to us. Et voila! Surprise faux wedding.

The troops are mobilized quickly. Wedding cake ordered, flowers picked from nearby fields, grad dress and thrift store gag wedding attire selected, ceremony written and beverages purchased. The unsuspecting couple arrived on time for our casual invite to dinner, when 14 well-dressed friends jumped out from behind a large, red rhododendron bush.

“Surprise!” “Happy wedding!” “Hooray!” (We had forgotten to choreograph the precise surprise statement). The blushing bride tears up while the stunned groom lets his mouth hang wide as this new information soaks in. Cheers and hugs, cracked beers and poured wine – the party has begun! And despite ominous clouds threatening to rain on our party, all remains dry (minus a few eyes).

Sometimes I think life is quite simple. Be good to those around you, love and appreciate your friends and family, and when in doubt throw a surprise party.

the groom

the gents

cake cutting (leafs vs. canucks)