These Northern Times

five year wedding anniversary

2018-07-28T22:37:00.002-07:00

For our 5 year anniversary, we decided to co-write something together. Five seemed like a number worth celebrating, not to mention a year in our lives worth basking in.

I asked our dear friend Courtney to come up with some questions we could reflect on, and once she sent them over, we answered them privately. Here they are... we are reading this together for the first time too!

Babes: 10 years together total, 5 years married, 1 cute baby... high five.

//
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on mamahood: months six and seven

2018-07-10T22:21:00.000-07:00

Dear Birdie,

I am grateful when I reread my last letter to you. That was stinkin' hard. I remember it well.

In the way that most hardship goes, the memories of those bleak, teeth-grit times in months four and five are fading out -- I still know them in my molecules, but they are becoming more and more like vintage photographs that I hold on to to prove my daring, my strength.

We pool a lot more light in our hands these days.

Your cheeks are light, your eyes, our open mouth kisses, the three of us cuddling in the morning as you talk to us b-b-b-b-a-ing away, you are our cherub and our valentine and our one true love.

Oh lordy hallelujah amen amen amen, thank you for ushering us into the darkness and back out again.

//

Wait, but first:

Let me back up.

How did we dig our way out of the tunnel?

A friend asked me that the other day, and it gave me pause, because I don't know how we did it, baby.
I think just time? I think just letting some of that loneliness and tedium settle around us like dust, and knowing that it was OKAY to not be surrounded by frickin' marigolds every blessed day? That parenting is hard?

When I wrote that last letter, I shared it with others as I often do, and friends and friends of friends reached out to tell me that they felt these things too.

One thing your dad and I will always tell you, for the rest of your life (so much so that you will roll your eyes and murmur, I know I know) is that it is necessary to share your feelings, to feel them with others, and to let discomfort have its place amongst your days and things.

Every time I have done this in my life, I have heard a chorus of me too, and it paves a bridge back to community, away from aloneness.

So I felt shitty. I allowed myself feel it. I shared with others. And the intensity eventually went away.

Mama's first recipe for you!

Also, meet Elsinore. She is your protector. She has watched over you since birth. She is an eagle.

Whaaaaaaaaaat?

So, in another life, I have a career and I am a counsellor. I am not just your mama.
In counselling, we sometimes try to externalize our feelings so that we can look at them outside of ourselves, because it is very hard to make sense of things when they are buried on the inside. To externalize, you give it a name and a shape or a character, and you talk about it as something beyond you, in order to understand yourself.

(Have I lost you yet? How old are you, as you are reading this, anyway? 18? 27? 35? Are these letters interesting to you? Am I dead? Is this morbid?)

In a nutshell, we have many externalized figures in our household, including: Angus (dad's anxiety), Field Marshall (dad's super do-er drill sergeant), and Elsinore the eagle (my super intense mama over protectiveness / anxiety).

She has become a beautiful and powerful figure to me, but she did not start that way. During the hard time, she protected you in such a way that was pretty draining for me, as she was ever-vigilant, ever-ready, and super exacting.

Baba and I have had many talks about her, as sometimes she was a pain to be around. Oh man, you were so safe and well cared for because of her (I mean, your nap times and wake windows were precise and to the minute -- she did the arithmetic SO fast in her head, jeez), but also, she did not suffer mistakes easily.

Baba and I had to tell her that she did not need to do all this alone, that he was up to the task of taking on the mantle of how-things-are-done-around-here, and we thanked her for her service. Since then, she has been way more friendly, and even flies away for lengths of time to do what eagles do during playtime.

So aha!: in order to get to the light I..

- shared my feelings, realized not alone
- accepted / released Elsinore
- leaned on your grandparents way more for support
- stopped trying to do All The Things during your naps, slept, wore my robe religiously until 10am
- listened to podcasts about non-baby things during our walks, felt like human being
- and honestly, you started sleeping a bit longer in the night KNOCK ON ALL THE WOOD

//

We went on another trip, this time to the Sunshine Coast, and we forgot to make ferry reservations again and our car was packed to the brim, and while it was nice to get out, it was still tiring, and I'm proud of us for even trying.

Pictures or it didn't happen:

There have been milestones every week since you turned 6 months. It has been so, so so so fun. I think this is why people continue to make babies. This part has been the best.

Milestones:

First time sitting up by yourself!

First taste of solids!

First ride in big kid stroller! (clearly you love it and DON'T cry everytime we put you in)

First swing ride!

First successful night, and then nights of not being the oldest baby still swaddled! You are a zipadee starfish now!

First Mother's day! First Father's day!

First time CRAWLING FORWARDS! (lord help us)

I really never thought I would love you as much as I love your dad (is that weird to admit? I just really like him a lot), but you REALLY give him a run for his money. I could watch you eat mashed bananas forever. I could count each of your toes while you laugh because it's so funny and our inside joke, foreverever. I could watch you pull out blades of grass with a deep delight, forevereverever.

This is what they mean when they say that you'll want to freeze time one day, and not want your baby to get older. A few months ago, I honestly would aggressively roll my eyes when I heard anyone say that because I wanted time to speed the F up. So you could sleep longer, cry less. So you could tell me what you needed, or you could become a teenager (my favourite age category of humans).

But I don't, anymore. I am desperately in love with the time we have now, and the speed at which you're growing and learning to be independent both thrills and terrifies me.

I think that's good, this wistfulness. I think it means I love you and I am happy.

I am happy.

I love you.

Forever and ever,

Your Mama

$$$$ currently

2018-06-27T21:28:00.000-07:00

Oh hi! I thought I would pause on writing about babies for a moment, and go back to my original baby and first love: money.

Ha! You think I'm kidding, but those close to me will attest... I have been a fan since a young age.

It has been 4 years since this post on how I view money, my do's and don'ts about what I will spend on, and so many big things have happened since.

Fundamentally, I would say that my relationship to it has not changed, but structurally, a lot has.

So! Let's indulge! Get it all out in the open!

I am endlessly fascinated and grateful when others talk openly about their pragmatic and philosophical approaches to money, so I am happy to update this space on what has changed in my world.

(Just like last time, if this topic bores you, I would skip this post.)

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on mamahood: months four and five

2018-05-17T22:01:00.000-07:00

Dear Birdie,

Your mama fell down a well of sleep deprivation these last two months, so I apologize but you are getting a two-for-one letter. And by 'I apologize', I mean -- I gave birth to you and wipe your bum every day, so... we're even.

You turned 4 months in April, and now you are 5 months old.

That sentence does not even compute in my brain.

I was looking through old photos of you on my phone just now, and baby, you were the size of a chihuahua! A pea! A pearl earring!

And now? You are an ever-loving, full-sized Pinocchio little BOY.

Your big personality is becoming more clear. You are also no longer a newborn!

Here are things we know about you in Month 4/5:

- Your eyes are beginning to show hints of brown and sometimes a tinge of green, so my bet is that they will settle on hazel

- You smile at strangers-- so evidently you have your father's extroverted personality, not your mother's hide-in-a-hole one.

- You learned how to shriek, so I'm not sure why I haven't entitled this letter: Dear Velociraptor

(Seriously, you shriek so much. Can you stop? Your dad has sensitive ears, and he looks shell-shocked after one of your arias. It's like ahhhhhhhhh ahhhhhhhh eeeeeeeeeeee ahhhhhhhh and all our neighbours must worry about how we are treating you.)

- You understand what toys are for!

- Things you love: putting everything in your mouth, pulling mama's hair and baba's beard, when Gong Gong makes the clucking noise at you, being thrown in the air, any source of light that is on, touching your toes, Mr. Fox

- Things that have changed: you no longer cry and cry when you first wake up. If you are well rested, you smile so big, and are delighted to re-enter the waking world. You no longer require milk IMMEDIATELY or ELSE. Actually, you get super distracted and stop feeding if you notice other voices or movement. You graduated from your bassinet and sleep in a crib, in your own room.

So in other words, you are completely different yet wholly the same loveable being, and you're probably heading off to university next month.

We went on our first family trip this month!

People like to say that once you have children, you don't go on vacations anymore -- you go on trips. Vacations connote laying about and sleeping in and like, I don't know --margaritas. Trips, on the other hand, require a subaru full of so much baby stuff that you can't see out of the rearview mirror, and probably an extra day on either side to recover.

For me, it was another juxtaposition of what pre-you and post-you life is like. Before you, we have made trips to Saturna that included me on the back of our motorcycle, or where we carried everything we needed in our panniers and biked the steeped hills to the cabin. I used to read books for hours there. Now, we pretty much kept to our schedule at home of eat-poop-play-nap repeat, and tried to not do anything drastic. Since you are getting older, you actually can't just sleep anywhere anymore, and so we prioritize being home for most of your naps. (#babyprison)

Still, it was really special for your Baba to be able to introduce you to Saturna Island. Oh love, this place is very important to our family. It's where your grandparents ferried over with your dad and your uncle when they were little just like you, where your mom and dad got married, it's where your cousins have tumbled and romped in the meadow, it's where there is calm and magic and the Salish Sea.

So yes, a lot of work to go on this voyage. And also, like everything we do with you: worth it.

Real talk: these past two months were hard.

In that fourth month, my sleep deprivation resilience hit a wall. All those lovely protective good hormones ran their course, and I was left with good ol' cortisol and some momsomnia and a fistful of anxiety.

It used to be that I wore sleep deprivation like a proud badge of honor -- oh yeah, I'm a proud parent of a newborn now, of course I don't sleep. But as the months dovetailed together, and you began waking more and more in the night, it became more a scar than a badge. Hello, sleep regression.

We had passed your 100 day milestone, and I naively had thought: we are out of the woods now, hey? The hundred days of darkness are over, yeah? Parenting is now just successive moments of beautiful photos on my instagram and endless joy?

It turns out that in many ways, it was harder once I was out of the fourth trimester. By month 4, you've been at the parent thing for long enough that people stop asking you how things are going, and your support system can pause. Not at all because people are unkind, but because life moves on, and your baby's newness has faded. People assume that things, while probably still being tiring, have at least reached some sort of homeostasis.

So. There I was, exhausted and lonely.

On one hand, not able to spend a ton of quality time with people because I'm taking care of you, and on the other, not totally being able to be present when visitors come over, because I'm eyeing you like a hawk out of the corner of my eye. Lonely either way.

There were some big gulps of tears this month, and they all said: who am I now?

(A mama).

Why is this so hard?

(Because you're forging a new identity, and pain is as much a part of it as joy.)

Will it be like this forever?

(It feels like it. But I don't think so, love.)

You know what it is? It's like back in the day when I pretended like I was a Cool Girl for your father, ("Ohhhh you ride a motorcycle, that is so rad, like totally"), there is some societal pressure to be a Chill Mom. Like the kind of mama that goes barefoot with ripped jeans and is super relaxed and able to go with the flow, no schedule.

But in order to keep you alive? With no previous track record of having done so with any other human infant? I kind of have to be vigilant. I kind of have to keep all the bad dark shadows away from your halo of light.

So I'm actively trying to embrace the part of me that is SO not chill, that is SO fiercely protective of you, even if it is not a cool way to be. Because the truth is, she is doing an amazing job of helping you thrive.

(Thank god for your grandparents.

They are the only reason I didn't have a thousand panic attacks and starve this month.)

I am gaining my footing in the new role, little one. It is the most challenging thing I've ever done.

Thank you for choosing me to be your person.

Love,

Mama

on mamahood: month three

2018-03-24T16:42:00.001-07:00

Dear Birdie,

This was a big month for you and me.

It was the first official full month that was just the two of us, day in and day out. To be honest, I was nervous and doubtful of my ability to solo parent you.

I would count the hours in the day -- watching the clock, and give myself pep talks. "Ok, it is 3pm. Husband will be home in 2 hrs. I can do this." You would cry, and I would feel overwhelmed. You would need me, with your beautiful grey eyes, and I would be unsure.

Somewhere in the hard mornings of those initial first days, we got accustomed to one another. Or, maybe more than that. I think we fell in love as a twosome, instead of the love we have as the three of us. You told me about your rhythms, and I listened and took notes (for real notes, not metaphorical ones.)

I learned how to shower, eat breakfast, go to the bathroom, brush my teeth, and do the massive piles of laundry -- all in the sparse moments in between your bird calls. I started to see these mundane activities as REAL accomplishments in my mornings. Like, somehow if I was able to complete all 5 of these goals during one of your 45 min naps, I felt like a rockstar.

Sometimes, our timing would be off and I would hear you wail as I was stepping out of the shower, and have to come rushing to soothe you, eyes frantic and hair dripping. Or, I would optimistically assemble a bowl of cereal and then take the literal gamble of pouring in the almond milk --- only to have you screech, a moment later. Soggy cereal was a theme for us this month.

I promised myself I would be real with you in these letters, as I embarked on my mission to write them. I think there is value in honesty, especially as you get older and if you choose to read them, that these early days were hard. I love you, and it is hard to get used to having you around.

We spend our lives as adults looking after ourselves, and wiping our own butts. We don't really anticipate the true nature of what it means to be selfless, so feeding you first and caring for you first, is an adjustment. There are days that I want to run away and eat with both hands and curl my hair and wear a shirt that doesn't have to be breastfeeding friendly and just carry with me my wallet and keys instead of bag stocked with diapers and take a walk for no reason, not just because I'm trying to get you to sleep in your stroller and and and and ---

And, I love you. Even so.

Some facts from this month:

- Your eyes are still grey, but sometimes they look blue in certain light, and sometimes it seems like there is a bit of brown creeping in

- You are no longer the baby with tons of hair. You thrash around so much when you're on your back that there is a ring of baldness. Like Friar Tuck, or Friar Kai.

- You love to smile and there are a few kinds. There is the big, toothless, gummy smile where your whole face becomes a rainbow, and the one where you look shy and bashful, like you're at your first Gr. 7 dance.

- Your neck has become super strong and we don't have to worry as much about your poor little floppy head.

- You like tummy time! (for about 3 minutes)

- You are still the longest baby in the world (maybe not really, but in the 85th percentile for sure.)

- Your new favourite trick is making a fist and staring at it. Then you show me with this really proud look on your face. I think you are realizing that you have HANDS.

This next picture breaks my heart.

I took it after you had passed out from crying, when I took you to your first immunization appointment. You actually look sort of content here, but trust me when I say that you started purple-in-the-face-crying even BEFORE the doctor began anything, as if you knew what was to come. My ears had never heard this sound before. Yes, you cry, but the kind that a boob can fix. This, was not that. You screamed as if the world was coming to an end. And for me, it was. My heart shattered as I held your little, hot as a furnace body, as you struggled and fought. I tried to bring you to my breast to calm you down, and you just hollered into my nipple. That had never happened before to us: it was as if my surefire magic trick had been yanked away.

When she finally jabbed you with the needles (THREE of them, oh my heart), the look on your face and the screams crescendoed. I fought to hold back my own tears, and felt irrationally rageful at the good doctor. She left the room, with apologies, and you wouldn't even look at me. Your tears dripped hotly down your tiny face, and you whimpered and hiccuped because your crying had been so violent. Then you closed your eyes, and fell asleep.

You cried yourself to sleep. I thought that was just a saying.

(Please don't be a daredevil like your dad and go down hills fast and break bones in your body -- I don't think I will be able to take it. )

Speaking of your Dad.

Your Baba really misses you, sweet baby. He has to go to work and bring home the bacon, and it was really hard for him to leave us. When he gets home, it is dark outside and more than likely, you're down for a nap and it's time to make dinner or do chores anyway. He gets very little face time with you anymore.

The weekends when we can all be together are our very favourite times.

When you grow up, I want you to thank him for all of his hard work and sacrifices. He would rather be here with you, but I strong-armed him into letting me be the one to be the Always parent. I will remember to say thank you more often, too.

Ok, signing off for month three. You're looking at me from your chair like: why are you staring at that silver box again?

Love you to bits, my every day twin. I hope you get all the best parts of me.

Yours,

Mama

kai's birth story

2018-03-18T22:24:00.000-07:00

On the evening of Dec. 8th, I was a week past my due date.

I was oscillating between feelings of peace that baby would know when to come, and anxiety that somehow, the moment would never arrive.

We had had brunch at Bandida's earlier that day, after my second stretch and sweep at the hospital to try and get things going. We ate corn bread muffins with honeyed butter. He and I at the corner table, with a view of the Drive. Then, a cold, cold walk around Trout Lake to wake baby up. When we walked across the crosswalk at 12th, my insides twinged for several seconds -- not unlike a cramp. I brushed it off as nothing, it felt so small and miniscule, and instead worried that the sweep hadn't worked, the walk hadn't worked, that baby would need a jumpstart from the hospital to arrive. At 10 days overdue, they recommend starting the induction process and I only had 3 days left. My due date felt like a deadline that this perfectionist was struggling to keep calm about.

I don't remember what I ate for dinner. But, I googled "what if I have to be medically induced?" before I went to bed. Fret, fret, fret. I really didn't want to be induced.

At 1am, I woke up feeling the same twinge-y cramps I had had on and off the day before. They had unceremoniously gone away many times previously, so I thought nothing of it. I lay awake in the dark, noticing these sensations ebb and flow.

At 3AM, Bryan woke up and I was squirmy, albeit stoic. Still brushing it off as nothing. He decided to time them, and they were irregular, but certainly not going away. He bit his tongue as I remained in denial about what was happening, and held my hand as the 'twinge-ys' (no, not contractions -- they couldn't be contractions, right?) got more intense.

In the pitch black night, we decided to forgo the bed for the couch, and I remember seeing the dense fog surround the houses and trees outside our window, and heard a gang of teenagers party and holler across the street at the elementary school.

I remember thinking, is this it? It can't be. It feels alien, but also normal and not out of control like it looks in the movies.

"This is not like what it is in the movies" was to be a refrain that echoed in my head for many moment of this birth.

B lay on the rug at my feet, and clutched my hands above. I would close my eyes and try to rest in between the surges of intensity, and then arch my back and squeeze him tightly as they rose like a wave. So there we were, him falling back to sleep every 5 minutes, and then us both tensing and muscles coming alive as I gripped his palm for 90 seconds. Resting. Bracing. Resting. Bracing.

//

In the presence of fear, there might be a moment where you dig your heels in and decide to stay and fight.

I learned sometime during that hour that I had powerful tools at the ready. From my time in theatre, I had my breath and my double-bass resonator from deep in my belly. So every time a contraction threatened to knock me over, I would reach down deep and ommm like a didgeridoo. (A more beautiful image than a cow, but yes. That too.) It was something to concentrate on, and it let me not unravel completely. There was an urge to panic and shriek, but the deepness of that resonance reminded me of ritual, of prayer, of strength.

From my time now as a counsellor, I had my mind. I let it be my ally instead of my foe. I repeated to myself variations of:

I can do this.
I am doing this.
Each one done is another step to meeting baby.

I envisioned that I was a bird, or a surfer, cresting this wave. In these visions, I was strong and powerful and free.

I think what I was doing, really, was surrendering.

Something I had read when I was really scared of labour helped. I tried to experience the sensations of the pain and contractions, without being tied up in the suffering part of it.

Surrender, without suffering.

Daylight arrived.

I had retreated to the bedroom to distract myself from the steadily increasing-in-pain-holy-fuck 'twinges' by watching Sex in the City on old, scratched DVDs on my lap top. I couldn't concentrate, and as I struggled to keep up with the old familiarity of Carrie and Big, the surges were starting to take my breath away. I cried. I shut off the lap top.

It seems ridiculous to type this, but I still didn't think this was labour.

Labour. It's so big. It's what you have been waiting 9 months to reach. So when it arrives, and there's no omniscient narrator announcing: this is it!, a person like me can't be sure. I mean, Bryan was sure. But you don't listen to your spouse when important things are happening, do you?

I began to need to be doubled over on my knees, bracing against whatever furniture was nearby. An aerial shot tracking us might see B trailing me from couch, to bed, to chair, to baby's new dresser, back to bed.

He said: I called the doula.

I asked: Why?

Reinforcements showed up. Sister and Ken with grapes, miso soup, cookies. They heard me groaning, human, stripped of social niceties, as they came up the stairs. Becka, our doula, arrived simultaneously. Everyone was hushed, reverent. Later, they likened the feeling of the moment to be holy like a temple. I was of two minds: half embarrassed to be sounding so vulnerable within earshot of other human beings, half beyond caring about anything of this world.

I was getting close to labourland.

Becka got busy as she came into the nursery, where I was bracing against contractions by myself. She gave me strong, loving counterpressure during every contraction. They were surging pretty intensely by now. At one point, with her hand on my back, she said you know -- it's totally your call, but I think we could start heading to the hospital.

The hospital? I wondered. Already? It was about noon. She reassured me that given how hard I had been working since 3am, she would be surprised if they turned me away at this point (my fear.)

I said. Ok. Let's go.

Bryan breathed a sigh of relief. (He had not been successful thus far in convincing me to go.)

Things began to move in fast forward as soon as I made the decision. There was a flurry of activity and packing the car. I remember sipping my miso from a yellow mug.

I clung to my sister, and wept a bit. I was so tired. She shouldered my tears, and gave me strength to be strong some more.

We got into the car; me in front, B at the wheel, Becka in the back. I waved goodbye to my family on the sidewalk. Or maybe I didn't-- I don't know. Things are fuzzy at this point. I remember thinking, things will be different when I see you next. It was sunny outside, and I remember a couple walking leisurely down the sidewalk. It was bizarre to me that the world was still spinning, people were still living life, when ours was so clearly being blown wide open.

Lowering myself into the passenger seat, was difficult, to say the least.

I sealed my eyes shut. Contractions began to come rapidly, fairly close together as B began to drive. He steered us calmly, and with great intention. I continued to make very, very loud sounds. As we would roll up to stop signs, I imagined with a certain degree of horror that pedestrians and cyclists were gaping at the groaning pregnant lady in the green subaru. I willed myself to keep on being above the judgement of others, that it would make for a neat anecdote if passersby had the opportunity to witness this National Geographic moment in action.

(Later, when we compared notes, B said that we literally never stopped alongside a single soul.)

This was the longest car ride of my life. Somehow, Oak street felt like hours away as I felt every speed bump.

//

I don't have any pictures of these next moments as we arrived to Women's hospital. Maybe you can just imagine the comedy of Bryan filling in our paperwork and other people making small talk, business as usual, as I held both fists against the wall, wailing from deep in my soul. The juxtaposition of this versus that, struck me as ridiculous even as I breathed through the pain.

It was like, I hurt so much, I wonder how other people are still standing upright? Shouldn't we all be writhing on the floor?

My midwife examined me. I was 6-7 cm dilated. We would be staying. Baby was going to meet us, possibly even today.

From that fluorescent room, a wheelchair was summoned and B pushed me as my entourage followed closely behind. It is really difficult to endure contractions when you are sitting down in a wheelchair.
I remember my midwife whistling, and I felt a hot and annoyed at this detail.

WHY ARE PEOPLE NOT ALL WRITHING IN PAIN.

We finally got to our birthing suite, and through my squinted eyes, I noted how big and roomy it was. With relief, I got into the tub after Becka ran me a warm bath. B set up a picture of baby in belly, and our salt lamp, and left to pay for 2 hours of parking.

Midwife continued to hum under her breath. I tried to ignore her.

I sank into the water, and felt my whole body shift. The lights were dim in the room, and Becka and B continued to talk softly to me.

You are safe.

You can do this.

You are doing everything exactly right.

After each affirmation, I would repeat it to myself. It was my lifeline when the pain started getting very, very dark for me. I couldn't open my eyes any longer, and my voice was increasing in pitch and fear. Even surrounded by people, including the love of my life, I felt very alone. Not in a sad way, but in a -- no one but you is going to do this thing, so you're going to have to do this thing, alone-- kind of way.

During the huge contractions, I would struggle to flip around in the water to get on my hands and knees. After each one, I would turtle myself back to floating, facing the ceiling, exhausted.

At one point, I felt something torpedo out of me during a contraction with tremendous force, and I yelped. Is it the baby?

No baby. My midwife, with a look of concern on her face, said maybe it's time you get out of that tub. I think your water just broke.

My water had broken underwater.

//

Things moved swiftly at this point.

I rose, unsteadily to my feet in the tub. I stepped out. Towels were wrapped around me. As I moved a footstep towards the bed, I shuddered with the supernova of a massive contraction.

Midwife became a warrior, a general in a battle, and said: you get over to this bed right now. You are not having another contraction. You are not going to have your baby on this floor.

Yes ma'am. Thank god, she had become in charge.

I climbed, with help, onto the bed. I faced the wall as everyone else huddled behind and around me. B's hand was ever ready on my back, or trying to offer me coconut water. I was oblivious to everything except for the pressure mounting within me.

There was wailing. I will not lie to you and say that it didn't hurt. It is the weirdest mix of being as close to death and birth in the same breath, as I have ever known. I felt like I was going to die, that I might be in mortal danger, while simultaneously feeling like I would never feel this alive again.

Midwife said, when baby comes, I want you to reach down and we will pass baby towards you.

Later, as we compared notes again, B and I shared the same sentiment and bewilderment that she was saying this to us now. I literally had just begun feeling pushing sensations, and we both thought that it would take a long time. Like in the movies. The hours of pushing, you know? So we were like, you are so weird. Tell us that later, when it's time.

10 minutes after this sentence, and a few pushes later, I felt the ring of fire.

Oh my Lord, I thought. She was right. From my reading, I knew the ring of fire feeling meant that baby's head was crowning. BABY'S HEAD WAS CROWNING.

She told me that I was a good pusher. Too good. On the next urge, she wanted me to pant instead, to slow down. I tried my best. It is really hard to slow down a bowling bowl that has begun to make its quick descent down the ramp, man.

Suddenly, midwife motioned for Bryan to come over to my rear. I heard Bryan shout: Oh my god!
He was seeing the top of baby's head.

In a blur of heat and sound and electric bolts and lava and volcano and adrenaline, I pushed one last time, reached in between my legs, and they placed what felt like a slippery sack of jello in my arms.

I don't think our 2 hours of parking had run out yet. It was 3 o'clock on a sunny afternoon.

I could smell time stopping, or taste time, or was touching it. I had never felt more like I was knee deep in the present moment, as I gingerly flipped back over with this warm, sticky bundle in my arms.

I peered down as the feeling of jello became the vision of a real, gorgeous, pink, squirming little baby with fingers, and toes, and just oh my god.

Oh, my new God.

That face says everything, doesn't it?

Looking down at that beautiful being was the most human moment I've ever had in my life. All of the pain receded into the background, I had no awareness of how many staff were in the room with us, and I just drank in the little nose, the rosebud mouth, the darkest eyes.

I was dumbstruck by the knowledge that I was holding my baby while my husband stood beside me.

Someone asked, is it a boy or a girl?

We had forgotten that that even mattered. Bryan looked down and said, it's a boy.

Our boy!

(I knew it.)

A note on being a woman:

I felt so high, for so long after this. Never mind the extensive tear and millions of stitches because of how fast he came out. I had faced a fear and my body had reclaimed a birthright that womankind is more than capable of. It was as if this act had erased every moment in my life previously that I had ever felt weak, or small, or powerless.

What I want to say to you is: I am powerful beyond measure.

Do you hear me, women? What I am saying is also: you are powerful beyond measure.

No matter how your babies come into this world.

What still can bring tears to my eyes, three months after the fact, is just how strong and awe-inspiring our bodies are, and how under celebrated this fact is. WE GROW HUMANS IN OUR BODIES. WE THEN (MAYBE) PUSH HUMANS OUT OF OUR BODIES. Why is the world not run by women?

I will try really hard to never doubt my power again.

In regards to birth announcements, I was careful not to say: my baby was born on...

Friends. I birthed my beautiful, dreamy baby on December 9th.

Because, holy fuck. That verb is in the active tense, not the passive tense. Ok?

So that's it. The birth story of Kai Bennett Liu-Green.

But as I finish writing this, I also think: it is the birth story of a woman named Joann Liu.

on mamahood: month two

2018-02-09T00:00:00.000-08:00

Dear Birdie,

Oh my gosh. Look at you.

Look at your fingers! Your expression!

You are no longer my wee, grunting newborn. When I first met you, I loved you but I didn't know you.

60 some odd days later -- I know you now. We know you now.

I stare at you so much that it would be embarrassing or awkward if you were anyone else. I feel like I know your face more than I even know your Baba's, because all I do anymore is watch, riveted, while you sleep, eat, cry, poo, smile, laugh, think. (I've never stared at him as much. That would be creepy.)

Your cheeks have been kissed 1 billion times by Mama. I told your Dad the other day that you are now one of the top three dudes I have kissed most in my life (the winners being you, Baba, and the ex that shall not be named, LOL.)

You are sleeping as I write this, and I stop typing every few minutes because I think I hear you.

It's as if my heart literally falters for a minute-- I catch my breath and freeze. Is he crying out for me? Both of the last times this has happened in the past hour, it was a crow in the backyard.

Oh, Birdie.

Things that make you sad in Month 2:

- If I am even 5 seconds late with boob
- The pain of your fart gas bubbles.

As you can see, this list has not veered much from last month. You are predictably simple, pure, easy to please.

Things that make you happy in Month 2:

- Seeing Mama's face after she feeds you and cleans up your butt. It's as if you didn't know it was her doing it all this time, and then once your primary needs are met, you go "Hey! It's this lady again! I like her a lot."

- Bath time with your Dad. He gives you massages and is so careful and loving with you.

- When we play, "Who's that baby in the mirror?" You love your reflection and it is the cutest because you think it is another baby, and whoever you think he is, you get so bashful and sweeeeet in his presence.

- Pretending to participate in conversation. You are babbling up a storm, with all manner of expressions on your face. The other day, I was belting out Beyonce and you joined in with me at the top of your lungs.

This month, we went from the three of us goofs, pal-ing around every day to just you and me.
Baba had to go back to work after 7 weeks off with us, and it was really sad. It was and is a huge transition, since we all three got so used to our tight family unit. He was pretty bereft about it the night before he went back, and when he told you his big feelings, you looked at him as if you understood his pain.

Rest assured, not every day is magical. We are under slept, for sure. Sometimes I gesture for your dad to just take this baby from me, exasperated, but it is not from a lack of loving you. It's just that we used to have different identities before becoming your parents, and we are blindly finding our way to seeing if we can own both at the same time.

And yet -- We have been lucky peaches to get this baby bubble together.

Babes, I can't believe you and I have a 2 month old!

Some words from your beloved Dad:

"Things I hope not to forget:

The rewiring of neurons when the wet cloth hits his tired and hungry body, a cry like no other, unforgiving, a bottomless call to serve, so strong that I must do everything, so dissonant I lose motor skills.

The look of surprised interest in his own bowel movements, like developing a taste for tuna sashimi with wasabi, kinda of painful at first, but then wow, that's pretty good!

The guilt of letting him squawk or fuss a bit longer because I really, really REALLY just want to pour this fucking coffee and get some toast in me.

The awe of his growth rate. His every change being so important and yet for every other parent that's said "he can hold his head up for almost 5 seconds" it's been like, "whatevs".

The hard truth that you, my wife, are so so so tired and just fell deep into that sweet and oh-so-needed sleep, but he's hungry again, and I know you will not get back to sleep for the day has begun, and naps are hard to find, and I always get more rest than you, more time than you, but there you are, 20 minutes later, shining your love down on him, I hear your sweet words, and am filled with pride and wonder at how truly completely you love him, regardless of all the above.

The paranoid checks when he burrows deep in my chest, limp-spined and curled into the Ergo where I can not see him, so I have to put fingers in his hand and gently squeeze until he startles, moves, sighs, or shows other signs of life.

The sense when he smiles that I am one of the precious few - that this moment is distinct from the multitude of frowns and cries, that his love is beaming back at me, matching mine and somehow amplifying it beyond measure.

The realization that maybe watching Black Mirror or TV in general while he naps on the couch next to us may not be perfect parenting.

Him on my chest, the soft weight, the slack contentedness of his body, helping ground me, to focus on this, and breathe, and lose myself in the feel of his soft head in my hand, his tiny arm draped over my ribs, his beautiful sleep telling me that he knows he is safe, and loved, that I'm doing my job, fulfilling the best and most cherished role I could ask for, that of Papa."

I know, right? He is pretty great, that one.

In the daylight hours, it's mostly me and you now. Po Po and Gong Gong pop by a lot, and are a huge help to us. They are completely smitten with you and will teach you to speak Cantonese, hopefully better than I can.

On the days that it is just us, I feel my confident spine growing taller. I can fulfill your needs. I can push past fatigue and change your barfed-on outfit, just one more time. I can survive the hours of the work day until your father comes home.

I thank you for being patient with me as I sometimes flail. You forgive me so quickly.

Love you, Goof.

You are my favourite child I've ever had.

XO

Mama

on mamahood: month one

2018-01-18T19:09:00.000-08:00

Dear Birdie,

You have been with us for one month now, and while your Baba is reading a comic and you are taking a nap, I thought I would write down some words. They may be quickly dashed out, as I never know when exactly your squawks will lead me back to you; my boobs back to you. It's so nice to get a break to do something just for me.

( Simultaneously, I miss your face and smell and wonder when you will wake up.)

You might be wondering why the nickname. Why doesn't Mama ever refer to me as Kai? Well, for one thing, I generally very rarely call the people close to me by their real names. For instance, the day you hear me call your Dad by 'Bryan' to his face, is the day that he has done something that has me very mad. Your auntie is called Sister, your auntie Maggie is Marge. You get the drill.

So. You are Birdie. You and your squawks and cheeps and downright SCREECHES.

Baby, you have changed so much in this month that I'm not sure what even to say. When we brought you home, you were this small tiny human -- Baba could pick you up off the change table with one arm. You looked kind of like an alien; dark eyes without hardly any of the whites showing. Furrowed brows and so many frowns, that your neurotic Mama googled it to make sure nothing was wrong. Long piano fingers. Your hands and feet would often turn purple, as your circulation was still finding its way.

We held our breath so often these last 30 days. Is he alive? Is he still breathing? More than once, I would hold my finger to your nose to make sure I could feel a puff of air. Bringing you home that first day after the hospital was maybe the scariest night of my life: we foolishly tried to will ourselves to stay awake into the wee hours of the morning, terrified that if we both fell asleep, the very earth would swallow you whole and take you away from us.

We had just met you, you see. We didn't know if we would lose you. We had never been the stewards of anything so small, so precious, so beautiful before.

I can report that we are gaining confidence, as each night successfully yields its way to dawn: another day of triumph, another day where we did not wreck you. (You think I am being dramatic, in my use of words, child? One day, you may find yourself with 7lbs of flesh that depends on you too, and then we'll talk.)

Your first bath, sucked. You hated it SO much. You cried, and cried, and cried. Surely, we were torturing you. Dad thought this was an omen that you might hate the water as you got older (like your mother), and secretly was nervous that you might not share in his love of ocean and sea. Curse your DNA, Mama. I rolled my eyes.

A few weeks in, he tried again. Guess what? You love it. When the temperature of the water isn't tepid, and no shampoo gets in your eyes, and you've got your loving dad washing your cute bum, what's not to love?

I'm trying to think of the mundane facts that I will forget by next month, because of my extreme sleep deprivation and the fact that every day something new changes about you.

A tally so far:

- Your eyes are gunmetal grey

- Your hair is dark brown

- You are longer than you are wide. Who do you belong to, Big Bird?

- You love your soother, boobs, sleeping on your Dad's chest, being swaddled, being sung to / music

- You hate the inbetween of waking up and not having a boob in your mouth, being cold, wet wipes in your bum crack when you are hungry. Basically, when you are boobless.

- You tolerate: tummy time, when Baba is wearing you in the Ergo and crumbs fall onto your head because he is eating, and when Mama is on a mission to pick your nose.

- Mama's favourite part of you: lips. Perfect ears.

- Baba's favourite part of you: lips. Chubby arms.

Near the end of the month, you started to coo and oh BOY is that the sweetest sound? I didn't even know what a coo was before you, as a single, childless ladyperson. I googled it too, when the nurse told us that we could expect to hear that soon. The baby in the video was making such cute sounds, but trust me, it is even better when it comes out of the mouth of you.

Recently, you started smiling and chuckling in your sleep. The next few days, you smiled at ME, your FATHER, your POPO and your GONG GONG.

Anytime you do something terrific and amazing like that, I call you my little Valedictorian (your Dad was Valedictorian of his grad class) or my little Class Poet (your mom, her grad class), and your Uncle Vee overheard me saying that and told me I was going to give you a perfectionist complex one day. Yep, probably.

Sorry.

Listen, my little love. You are the heart that beats outside of my chest now. It is a homing beacon that always tethers me to you. There are days that are long, monotnous, tiring. There are days that I don't know how to be your Mama, whether anything I'm doing is right. Where the tether is hard to bear, to wear.

But then, we will be alone together in the orange rocking chair at 3AM as your Dad sleeps in the next room, your little body tucked firmly against my chest, and your face is peace and bliss. Breastfeeding can often be tedious, but there are these seriously poetic moments where I look down at you, watching as you relax because you are safe, cradled, nourished. I feel beautiful and strong, like the most important person on the planet. Because at this moment, I am the most important person to you.

I love you, Bird. What a pleasure to be around you.

Love, Mama

on mamahood: the early days, part II

2017-11-30T14:46:00.000-08:00

When I first found out I was pregnant, the expected due date was November 30th. That is today.

After we had the dating ultrasound, they modified the date to December 1st. That is tomorrow.

I don't know how we got here, husband.

How is it that we are going to meet our little love so so so imminently?

3 months have gone by since I last wrote about any of this to you -- and amidst that silence, the egg has been growing and growing. Our newly burgeoning parent identities have been shyly growing too. Quietly at first, we acknowledge ourselves as Mama and Baba. We wonder: who are we to claim these names yet?

Even with 40 weeks to digest this idea, it all still feels so new.

Moments / Symptoms from the third trimester:

- Strangers yelling at me on the street while pointing at my belly: HEY! CONGRATULATIONS!

- Having our best friends throw us such a loving baby shower, like a mini-reunion from our wedding.

- Feeling baby kick and move around consistently every day ((what a blessing, how reassuring))

- Learning words such as: epistiotomy, mucus plug, glider vs. rocker, gestational diabetes,

microfleece inserts

- standing in a real exaggerated, pregnant way on the skytrain to see who notices me

- the rollercoaster of being told that B could take 3 unpaid months off work, serious conversations and my serious doubts, a realization that I'm not the only parent deserving of bonding time, a unanimous decision to forgo money in order for this priceless investment, to being told that actually, he doesn't qualify for this type of leave, heartbreak, recovery

- poking myself in the finger 3, then 7, then 3, then 0 times a day to make sure my blood sugar is ok

- things that saved my sore back: weekly prenatal yoga, the little borrowed wedge pillow for side sleeping, weekly prenatal massage (thank you, extended health)

- waking up to find the sleeping bag and mat out on the floor of the baby room for the first time. My snoring has gotten intense, apparently.

- only 2 pairs of shoes fit me now

- every Friday, I would exclaim to Bryan, "We've reached 3__ weeks!" It always felt like an accomplishment.

On Nesting

Like a mama squirrel or mama bird, I have been bringing home feathers and bits of twig and leaves in my mouth to build this tiny creature the safest haven.

In the past, I have always left the craigslisting to B, but this nesting instinct is real dude, and has been a happy, tangible way to express my love and creativity.

Seeing the baby room up and ready this past weekend gave me an immense feeling of peace in my heart. We are so thankful to our friends and family who have contributed their generosity to this space. I sit in that orange rocker to brush my teeth at night, and everywhere my eyes flit to, I see an auntie or uncle or grandparent who lovingly gifted us with a treasure. This room feels like a warm community.

Baby: I will keep you safe while you're in my belly. I will keep you safe once you are out in our wild, wild world.

Something to confess:

There is a part of me that mourns that we will no longer be just two. My best friend and I, my pal, my husband, my person. And I know, I know, he will still be around and it will be even better than before (you say, they say) because we will be a family with this new, beautiful being in between us --

But until now, it's always been just me and him. For 8 years. So you can go ahead and tell me that it will be beautiful with three -- and even I know that too-- but I am still sad. I am still mourning the end of this chapter of our lives. I already miss the quality of our twosome.

Soon, this feeling will be replaced with something unimaginable and greater than I could have conceived at this naive point of writing. But. In the meantime, no need to reassure me that it will be fine. It's just my human way of listening to my human heart... and it is feeling tender and bittersweet towards this youthful couple who, once upon a time, only had to attend to each other.

Our time together feels very precious to me right now.

Milestones

♥ I started maternity leave two weeks ago. Before I left, the loves of my professional life threw me a surprise baby party on my very last day. Having only taught them for three months, I wasn't prepared to be as enamoured with them as I am. On day 2 of class, I said to them: We should probably try not to like each other too much, on account of me leaving in November.

Didn't work.

I remember being 17 years old myself, and throwing our high school english teacher a baby shower, and know the kind of thoughtfulness and care that takes. I said to Maggie (being a fellow teacher, she gets the magnitude of this) that I could retire happily now-- I had reached, for me, my highest teaching accomplishment. Balloons? Haikus? A present? A cake???

One of my big sadnesses of this pregnancy is that I won't be there with them through to June, when they graduate and fly the coop. I feel so grateful that the counselling program has made me a huge sap and that I am now explicit when I cherish something. They were told often how proud I am of them.

After yellow cake, squeals and laughter, we spent our last moments together in our usual circle, sharing what we love about this class and one another. I asked them to pass around a smooth piece of jasper as they talked, and to warm up the rock with their words. I joked that I would bring it into the delivery room with me as a talisman.

♥ This mama officially convocated and received her Masters degree in Counselling Psych! Thankful that I got to walk across that Chan Centre stage for the fourth and final time in my life (highschool lol, BFA, B.Ed., M.Ed), with a 39 week baby bump to boot.

Felt proud to celebrate my brain and heart in this public way, before turning my attention to the next task of celebrating my body and heart in a much more private way...

This next step ahead of us is big, my friends. 40 weeks is tomorrow.

Recently, I was feeling a deep sense of denial about what is coming. My brain would literally shut down when I was asked about birth or labour. It seemed too enormous a task, and I just could not engage with it in any real way.

Then, we met our doula.

In her very warm, validating, honest way, she made it possible for us to talk about our fears and worries.

Mine: pain.

His: seeing me in pain.

After acknowledging these truths, she reminded us that as much as this feels new, we also have a breadth of experience with things like pain, and fear, and uncertainty -- and that we have weathered these very things together as a couple. Lord knows, Bryan has seen me in excruciating pain. Despair. I have been in certain tiny rooms of Hell.

So this is new. But not foreign. I can't tell you enough how much this perspective has helped us to lean into this next bit.

Like the rushing of a broken dam, I can suddenly envision myself in moments of birth now.

I somehow know that I can and will claim my birthright as a woman. That our species is powerful, strong, brave, good, honest: and that birth can be all of these things. That whatever form birth takes, whether it is medicated or not, includes a caesarean or not, it is a rite of passage that I am going to go through with pride and honor.

Because on the other side of this moment?

I am going to be born again into a mother. A mother!

This child is going to make me a mother.

♥

travelogue: Roadtrip to California

2017-11-20T13:15:00.003-08:00

What do you do when you promised your spouse that Europe 2015 would be the last big international voyage for a long while, because of jet fuel, carbon footprint, and airport anxiety?

You wait two years. Finish a Masters. Announce a celebratory trip is owed. Compromise by getting into the car with sleeping bags, a cooler, long johns, and head down the coast to California instead.

🚗 🚗 🚗 🚗 🚗 🚗 🚗 🚗 🚗 🚗 🚗 🚗 🚗 🚗 🚗 🚗 🚗 🚗

Timing: August. The day after your husband finishes a stressful, frenzied 5 week summer school stint. Wildfires will have ravaged the interior, the sky will have been a weird grey-lavender for weeks, and you will feel grateful to put miles in between you and the BC apocalyptic horizon.

Itinerary: 18 days, with a bit in Washington upfront, and then the rest spilt evenly between Oregon and California. We stayed on the 101 to stare at the Pacific ocean for as much as we could. Majority of the time is spent in campgrounds that have been booked well in advance -- not so romantic or spontaneous, but beats being worried about where we're going to lay our heads at night. Two nights on a proper bed to break up the drive, as this woman is 6 months pregnant and FEELING it.

Packing: He and I have camped together for the past 8+ years of our relationship. After all these adventures, we finally invested in some comforts for this journey:

1) A sleek double burner Primus stove
2) A queen sized thermarest and a double sleeping bag for optimal cuddling / warmth
3) Actual camping plates / bowls ( vs. random tin lids)
4) A car stereo and Spotify subscription for playlists and all the music (vs. our very scratched CDs)

I know all this is like... duh? to you. But it was new to us since we have subsisted on his early 20's camping gear for years. Adult Purchases are so great!

Favourite campsite(s):

Tilicum Beach campground, just north of Yachats, Oregon. Taking our plates of dinner down the stairs to the beach for sunset was so pretty.

Pheiffer Big Sur campground. We did one night by a babbling creek, and one night staring up at the giant Redwoods and stars while we listened to an audio book by the fire.

Adventures:

The huge rattle snake that crossed our path and hissed at us in Big Sur.

The weird, gaping hole in a tree that Bryan poked at in our campsite at Montana de Oro State park, only to discover that it was a giant nest of big, black spiders and all their legs.

Free camping overlooking the Golden Gate Bridge in San Francisco, that I scored by calling a month in advance (Bicentennial State park).

The adventure that is marriage + driving almost 4,000 km together when you're hot and lost and maybe dehydrated.

🚗 🚗 🚗 🚗 🚗 🚗 🚗 🚗 🚗 🚗 🚗 🚗 🚗 🚗 🚗 🚗 🚗 🚗

Day 1 - 3: Deception Pass WA, short stop in Seattle, this super cool spot along the Columbia River, and Astoria WA

Recommend: NOT getting stuck in 1-5 traffic getting into or out of Seattle on a weekend, and Buoy Beer Co. for great burgers and sea lions underneath your feet

🚗 Day 4 - 7: Cannon Beach OR, Yachats OR, and Humbolt State Park OR

Recommend: Yachats Brewing for their Brisket sandwich and ferments, and Thor's Well.

🚗 Day 8 - 10: Redding CA, and San Francisco CA, Bicentennial Campground

Recommend: The podcast Revisionist's History by Malcolm Gladwell and Beautiful Anonymous by Chris Gethard (as there will be nothing to see for the hours of inland driving to 38℃ Redding), and
Outerlands for brunch in San Francisco

🚗 Day 11 - 15: Big Sur CA, Pheiffer Big Sur Campground, and Montana de Oro State Park

Recommend: Pulling over whenever you can to stare at the moody, dramatic Californian coastline

🚗 Day 16- 18: Heading back North! Crazy 6-7 hours of driving to Redding for rest and In 'N Out burgers, then 3 nights of relaxation in Portland

Recommend: Por Que No for Mexican, and Bollywood Theatre for Indian

🚗 🚗 🚗 🚗 🚗 🚗 🚗 🚗 🚗 🚗 🚗 🚗 🚗 🚗 🚗 🚗 🚗 🚗

Hey.

Is a babymoon what you do when baby is earthside, or still in the belly?

Was this our bellybabymoon?

Now that baby is imminent, I'm dreaming of a Hawaii getaway. If spouse lets us do it, I will be super thrilled -- an earthside babymoon.

For now, these memories serve as a reminder of our last trip that was just the two of us.

(Just the two of us. Isn't that wild?)

on mamahood: the early days

2017-08-29T15:59:00.002-07:00

This is a story about how I was 9 weeks pregnant before I actually realized, for sure, that I was.

And all the random, abstract moments in between.

Maybe you read my last post, and you remember how much of a clusterfuck (excuse my language, mom and employers) the months leading up to April were for us. Moving, practicum, health. So when I started feeling extremely sad, overwhelmed, and so tired that I had to close the door to my tiny office in between clients and lean my head against the wall to take a short nap, I thought it was just that. Nothing more.

Even when my cycle was a few weeks late, I chalked it up to stress and life (since that does happen sometimes).

Even though we were actively trying to get pregnant.

There were so many hurdles we were trying to navigate in life that my brain truly had no space to contemplate what this could be. Coupled with this strange and paranoid idea I'd fostered since I was a teenager, that I was somehow probably quite infertile and it would take a lot of time for anything to happen at all.

Anyway. After I was 4 weeks late, and admitted as much to B, he (being the imminently wiser and more pragmatic one during this moment) said: maybe you should take a test, babe.

I put it off for another week. I was like: I hate wasting money, if this is a false alarm. ($20, LOL).

He bought us a test anyway.

On week 5 of being late, I peed on a stick and within seconds really, it said PREGNANT/ ENCEINTE/ 3+.

Bryan hooted and hollered.

My heart started beating really fast and my brain was so confused and in denial, that it took 15 minutes of me being like, sure it says pregnant, but it ALSO says enceinte and MAYBE that's french for MAYBE NOT SO PREGNANT.

So B had to pull out his phone and type in enceinte in google translate, and kept pressing play over and over again as the robot-lady voice said: pregnant! pregnant! pregnant!

Then, I got it. And I ran around and around and around my living room with B close at my heels, as we chanted enceinte! enceinte! enceinte!

After that, we went to the doctor to confirm. As a person who loves and abides by rules, it would take a person wearing a white coat to convince me. A small percentage of me was still skeptical, and half expected that I would be told it was a false alarm. Our doctor walked in and announced:

Joann, you're pregnant! with a big smile on her face.

Then with the kind of math and alchemy that I still don't understand yet, she told us I was NINE WEEKS PREGNANT. Which is 3 weeks shy of the first trimester being basically over! When we had tried to do the math on our own with the most probable date of conception, we had come up with 5-6 weeks. So... 9 was a bit of a shock.

9 weeks. Whoa.

Symptoms and feelings of these early days:

- Nasusea X 1 day (then B researched online and told me to snack more throughout the day. Magic!)

- Night nausea during first trimester (no cure but time for this one, ugh)

- Super fatigue. Naps after breakfast type of fatigue.

- Immense sense of calm and grounded perspective. Small anxieties about practicum and life goes away. Begin instilling healthy boundaries for myself, immediately.

- Feeling private, like guarding the most beautiful secret

- Awe and denial

- Two more times of wearing tight button up jean overalls, then they are put away forever.

- Double chin

- Bewilderment over weight gain -- rational brain says, yay, healthy for the baby! socialized self says, WTF is this.

At 15 weeks, we plan to tell our families. We skype B's family during the day, when his dad is visiting the family in Vermont, and tell our niece that Uncle Bryan drew her something. Instead of a drawing, we show them the ultrasound of our littlest, littlest nugget (truly, they look like a fingerling potato or large worm at that stage) and watch their confusion turn into excitement.

On my side, Sister and Dad have birthdays in early June, so we arrange their birthday presents to be the way we announce the news. I wrap Sister's grey shirt, embroidered with a coral 'auntie' and Dad's navy blue shirt, embroidered in mint green with 'gong gong' (maternal grandfather).
I hide the brown paper packages in my purse at dinner, as it is two weeks before their actual birthdays, and they are not expecting any fanfare tonight.

We act nonchalant during the meal.

I casually say that we have early presents for them that are 'time sensitive' and should be opened tonight.

Baby announcement! from Joann Liu on Vimeo.

Such joy! I still grin, watching this. Please note my mom's delayed reaction.
And my dad saying such gems as "Are you sure?" and in cantonese "Are you lying?"

The moments of this pregnancy that I will remember for a long while:

20 week ultrasound. Secretly scared for bad news. In the inbetween of doctor visits, I never know what is happening, has happened, to my baby. Feeling so vulnerable. After 15 minutes of silence from the technician, she lets B into the room and he gasps, and I finally turn around to look at the screen and see

a head and

kicking legs and

a spine and

a strong heartbeat and and and

my whole future, on a black and white screen.

The first time I felt baby. During my Month 5 check-up, I shyly ask the nurse practioner why I might not have felt any activity yet. The book said typically baby starts being very active around now, but there hadn't been anything, and I was trying not to be worried about it (but worrying is in my DNA.)

She said it was fine, and baby would probably announce itself soon. Minutes later, she gave me a sidelong glance, with her hand on my belly, and said: do you feel that? Ah! Yes. Baby is here. Tap tap tap. Like the presence of a little God.

Lying on the couch with husband, and putting his hand on my belly as he feels baby for the first time. His face. Tears. Love beams straight to the heart.

Best friend remarked to me that when she was pregnant, the feeling of her baby's movements felt exactly like what you would imagine a little being kicking you from the inside would feel like. I kept on waiting to see if that's what my experience would be, but instead:

A list of ways I would describe what baby's movements feel like to me

- a frog croaking

- the way your stomach flips when you fall in love

- bad gas

- that feeling when you jerk awake from sleep

- a back spasm, but in your belly

- a tectonic plate shuddering

- when you visit Yosemite park and you see the earth belching

- hiccups

A confession:

In the book What to Expect When You're Expecting, in month 6, they share that one feeling you may be experiencing is boredom that all anyone talks about is the baby. Sometimes, I really understand this sentiment. There's a big part of me that still does not comprehend yet what is happening, what is going to happen soon, and has 32 years of other things to talk about still.

Often, I'm truly stunned that I talk more about this life inside me, than the fact that I completed my Masters in June. In the case of the latter, I worked my ass off for 2+ years deliberately, actively. In the case of the former, I feel lucky to have been able to conceive, but my body has been doing the rest for me invisibly (and sometimes, very visibly). For me, it is almost a passive process, if that makes any sense. I am along for the ride.

To be clear: I'm so grateful for all of the love, support and excitement we've received. I hope I'm not coming off unappreciative. It is more a Grappling With Identity moment, where I am becoming more than just an individual, I'm a mama! and it is really, really strange to integrate the two. I cherish how people in my life ask after me and my little bean. But my other self also yearns to keep talking about my nerdy obsession with counselling, or feminism, or tv shows. It still is bewildered when everyone tells me to be careful all the time.

So anyway. I still go on the weekend canoe trip. I still go camping on a very, very long roadtrip at 6 months pregnant to California. I'll still get on my bike this week.

I'm a mama now. AND I'm also all my other selves, still.

Stereotypical pregnant women characteristics that I am surprised I do now at 26.5 weeks:

- Waddle

- Snore

- Complain about my back

- Complain about my swollen feet

- Find it hard to get up off low surfaces

- a BIT of 'baby brain' (ugh. I really hate this one. It feels so demeaning. Or I'm a person with too much pride, and I can't accept my occasional absent-mindedness.) ((But yesterday, I took the gas nozzle out of the car and squeezed it and got gasoline all. over. myself. So maybe some truth to it.))

It is my 33rd birthday in two days. The same age my momma was when she had me. There is some symmetry in that that comforts me.

B asked me the other day what was the intention I wanted to carry into this birthday year--

I said, to surrender.

To surrender to pain, fear, joy, love, the unknown. To surrender the parts of myself that wholly seek control and perfection. The hope I pin to baby's personality (will they be kind?) and health (will they be okay? tell me tell me). To surrender my eternal quest for certainty. To surrender to the idea that I do not know what the future holds for my little babe, but that no matter what happens, I am its house and womb and everything for now-- and that is all we have.

Every moment so far has been an honour.

of late: January to .... oh man

2017-07-26T16:38:00.000-07:00

1/ sea gazing therapy 2/ from our digs on the sunshine coast

3/ made for a dear friend, and her new baby 4/ visit from Rowan!

5/ view from on high, at the new house 6/ in spring, the window is a green canopied painting

7/ Saturna, Russell's Reef 8/ citrus

9/ iced tea, clogs, backyard 10/ a joy to host in our new space
11/ LA! LA! LA! 12/ school wife and I, frolicking on Santa Monica beach

Of late...

January ++++ was //

A millenia ago. I'm almost laughing and shaking my head as I write this, as I'm not sure how to sum up the past seven (?!) months for you in any adequate way. I marvel at how times passes so quickly, and how it came to be that I ceased to write to you monthly, as per tradition.

But then of course, I squint my eyes at the images of the past few months and I go Oh yes, this period was a blur and you were only holding on for dear life and where would writing have fit into that?

I was submerged, in a non-drowning sort of way, and now I have risen above to take a gulp of air and feel the salt of life on my skin and it is GOOD. It is GOOD to see you again, friend.

On Endings//

In counselling, at some point you have to part ways with a client -- because the work is done, or it's stalled and not getting done, or for so many reasons, really-- and this is often called termination. Termination of therapy: a clean and clear goodbye to the relationship. My beloved supervisor really flinched at the aggression of the word, and advised us to say ending, instead.

Maybe I can tell you of my recent endings so that you can begin to know of what was happening in my absence.

I ended my time in Clinic in April, and said goodbyes to the three clients that have helped shape my new burgeoning baby therapist self. I won't soon forget them. I ended with my Clinic team of feminist, badass women that supported each other every Thursday night for the past half year.

On April 1st, Bry and I ended our time at the Fraser house, because an opportunity to move to a bigger apartment with a huge, spacious backyard dropped into our laps, and I said a tearful goodbye to the place we have cherished since we first moved to Vancouver.

In a whirlwind, I started my practicum a few days later, which meant jumping into two different counselling sites with new supervisors, new teams, new styles... I closed my office door often in those first few weeks, and tried to surf my overwhelm (and also, napped).

From April - end of June, I breathed in school and community counselling on the daily and hustled to get my 500 practicum hours completed. I saw an average of 15-18 (!!!) clients a week, ran two counselling groups, and felt my brain get fuller, just as my heart and my Counsellor spine grew stronger.

On the last week of practicum in June, I had to end with all of those clients. Can you imagine? 10 weeks together, and then in one fell swoop. My best wishes to you, goodbye. It was a lot for me. I imagine it was a lot for each one of them too, to part ways with someone who has walked weekly with them for this time. When I say it was a lot for me, I mean to meaningfully process 18 endings one after another -- with integrity, with honesty, with intimacy-- I don't know about you, but I'm not doing that a lot in my own life. I can get skittish around real life goodbyes, throw out a cheerful Hey! We'll see you soon, thanks a mill, then run away unscathed. It's a heart protector thing.

But this was different because I was holding space and helping each person sit in the discomfort (and sometimes awkwardness) of our ending, making eye contact and saying my truths

This is how you impacted me,

I have seen this growth in you,

I notice I have tears in my eyes,

What is it like to hear me say that,

What is our ending like for you,

You have mattered to me.

I still get goosebumps when I think about those endings, especially the ones where we both were vulnerable and said the truth in our heart, rather than shrugging or laughing off the ending. This transparency (which is scary, by the way) has taught me how clean and good an ending can be. That despite the risk, you can tell a person what they meant to you, so that you can say goodbye without walking away with regrets that you held yourself back.

I am so grateful for this time in my life.

I never knew that I would leave this program being a better person, not just a better counsellor.

What Else Did You Love?//

♥ Our escapes. We tried to implement a getaway weekend once a month, money be damned, to remind ourselves that life is not just work and goals. I firmly believe that the Sunshine Coast in February, Bowen Island in April, and Saturna in May saved my sanity. We brought only books of fiction, and stared at many different bodies of water and perspectives of sky.

♥ Loving our new space. To be clear, I was deeply not in love with it at first, because I had no energy to do my usual magic. We had too little furniture for the size of the apartment, and neither of us had hung any art, so it was bare beige walls for a long time. Paint fumes that somehow lasted 2 months. Spring was also super late this year, so there was no bounty for us in the backyard, just empty soil beds and dormant trees. It did not feel like home. So I really am overjoyed that in the past little while, we have put in the effort to make this house a home, and I LOVE it now, and cannot believe I almost said 'no thanks' to this place. The garden and how peaceful it is out there is BANANAS.

♥ After almost a year without, I got a new bike! She's a beauty, and I even have a secure place to store her at our new house, so may this one have safe harbour and help me go real fast, for a long time.

♥ That moment when I finished my last bit of paperwork, submitted it to UBC, applied for graduation, and was told that my file had been closed and I was officially done. DONE. MY. MASTERS. I don't have words for this. I am so so so many things about this.

♥ Hopping on a plane with School Wife 4 hours after our last practicum day (we don't waste any time!) to fly to LA and properly celebrate our achievement. As it turned out, she and I were some of the first ones to be finished our practicum requirements -- the rest of my comrades will be done a bit later, and I'm thinking of you!-- and it was such a blessing to share in this moment with her. She has been by my side, both of us taking turns commiserating and revelling in our journeys these past two years, that it was just so perfect to be eating huge brunches, spontaneously jumping into paddle boats at Echo Lake, and riding along the boardwalk from Venice to Santa Monica at sunset with her.

♥ Making things with my hands. I felted that cute baby mobile above for a friend, and am gearing up to do another. I also recently did an indigo dying workshop with Lauren, and feel so much satisfaction hanging up my art work in my home.

♥ Spending $$$ on plants and things for the home

♥ Getting my first school counsellor interview, and getting hired! Rejoicing with husband that he also got a permanent teaching job for next year!

Body is//

Such a good, sensitive reminder of everything. When moving to a new place, clinic ending and practicum beginning all fell in the span of a few days in April (worse timing possible), Skin chirped up as usual and delivered a mighty boom that was impossible to ignore. My face was so swollen and in pain, that there was nothing to do but to take a week off to heal. I was upset and felt sorry for myself for a bit, and then came to understand that this 'break' (as hard as it was), was something that was really needed. So on the teal couch I sat.

By the end of April, after I heeded its call and slowed down my expectations of myself, and reintroduced some self-love back to my world, body mellowed out and bounced back pretty quickly.

When I look back at how long these flares used to last me, I notice that while they haven't gone away entirely, I surrender now when it comes back. I say hello old friend, and because it feels more accepted in my house, it doesn't overstay its welcome any longer.

Things I Ate That Were Good//

- I wanted to tell you that I am no longer obsessed with doughnuts, as there are no shops in close proximity to our new place. So it was a contextual, site specific love affair?

- I actually don't know what to say here. . .

- Neither of us had interest in cooking very often, so there were lots of chicken tenders from the freezer, or Annie's mac n' cheese for a few months

- BUT! With all my free time now, I care about cooking again so: our bbq steak tacos with chimichurri, my blueberry pie, Bryan's homemade dan dan mein with soba noodles

- Tacofino Commissary's fish taco / kale/squash taco on Taco Tuesdays

- the burger we had at Cafe Stella in LA, and the chicken parm sandwich at Little Dom's

5 Items in my Kitchen right now, on the weekly rotation//

- Lemons

- Strawberries

- Blueberries

- Samosas

- Greek Yoghurt

Upcoming//

There is still so much to tell you. But that's for another day ;)

We are looking forward to summer school being over in 2 weeks so that I can have my husband back, from the clutches of a condensed curriculum. He is working so so hard. As soon as he is done, we are hopping in Ninja Turtle and have a three week camping trip down the coast to California planned.

Oh! And canoe camping next weekend, to solidify a tradition

And we turn 4 years old in our marriage tomorrow!

So many good, sweet, pure things.

My hope for you, as always, is that the world is feeding you and keeping your heart safe.

With all my love,

Your pen pal

2016 in Pictures

2017-03-07T19:01:00.002-08:00

Holy moly.

2016 feels like it was a decade ago already. Here we are, firmly in the lap of 2017, and I haven't engaged in this reflective ritual of mine. If you've been around for awhile, you know I've done some form of this annual post since I was a wee bitty undergraduate student, living at home.

I almost bypassed it entirely, but as I was nostalgically thumbing through (it's not thumbing, more like scrolling, but the former sounds so much more beautiful and reflective) my older entries where I've reviewed a whole year of being alive, I knew that one day I would regret it if there was a gap in this collection.

I do it for my future 80 year old self; I do it for my future 17 year old daughter.

So here we go. Late as always, but still: an account of what it was like to be a 32 year old woman, in her third year of marriage to a 37 year old man, in their seventh year of teaching, their third year back in the city, her first year in a Masters program.

(If this was a drinking game, you could take a sip for every number I have quoted in this entry. For those of us non-drinkers, perhaps a potato chip.)

-----

Like in 2015, we started off the shiny new year on Saturna. This time, no pipes froze, we didn't bike onto the island, but it was still as full of trees and mouthfuls of quiet as it usually is. As someone who is fairly allergic to the festivities of NYE, my heart was delighted.

In January, I went through a pretty rough time without talking about it much to anyone. Essentially, I was trying to be an academic/professional/counsellor wonder woman who could still make roast chicken dinners mid-week, be light hearted and generally hilarious to everyone who had a conversation with me, and wash my hair regularly.

Pffftttttt.

(I literally just gasped when I remembered that that was the semester I was taking THREE so-heavy-on-the-brain-and-heart counselling courses while fulfilling all the other roles in my life. I take one course right now -- which is LIGHT ON READING-- while doing my Clinic, and am so tired, so hair unwashed.)

To practice self-care, I started drawing and practicing calligraphy, which were things that were just for me. Not my clients, my professors, my husband, my friends, my pre-frontal cortex.

I also started telling the truth to those who would listen, and it would be an understatement to say that choice shifted my life, that it continues to impact me in rippling waves of peace and care.

In February, the BFFs came down from the Yukon to visit. We met this precious child for the first time. We became backup legal guardians / godparents to Rowan, which explains why I am now a gushing, obnoxious person who can't just choose one picture to post of a baby, and had to put up all of them.

Evolution is so smart: you make 'em so cute, so that you have no choice but to protect them forever.

S
Spring came in the nick of time to save my sanity, and it was warm and colourful and full of opportunity. I continued to be obsessed with flowers in 2016. Please note: I was wearing short sleeve shirts around March (as I stare forlornly out the window at the 57th snowfall of the year, at the time of writing this to you.)

In April, after 9 (yes, 9) assignments were handed in over a span of a month, we celebrated in the best way we know how: a road trip. This time, a decadent long weekend in Portland, where cider, pie, burgers, ice cream and mac n' cheese hot dogs were our most favourite companions. Bry turned a year older, and got a whole library full of whiskey and tequila to celebrate.

We remarked afterwards that amongst all of the trips we have taken, in all these years of being together, it stands out for how happy we were, the whole time we were there. For me, sometimes the planning of a trip is better than the trip itself, but sunny Portland in the spring was just pure light.

W

We spent much of this season outdoors, continuing our 2015 mantra of adventures in nature. If I wasn't behind a book or a computer, I was staring at something green, or lying down on something scratchy. Bry had been working his butt off in a short term contract since January, so we needed oxygen and photosynthesis to augment our sedentary days. It was so warm and alive outside.

I

In May, we rented a canoe and took her on a weekend camping trip up Indian Arm. I will never forget how easy it was, how many jelly fish we saw, how dark chocolate tastes under a moon. It was a highlight for sure, and one that I hope we replicate as often as we can.

The school year came to an end, heralding summer, and we were flipping stoked. I swear, teachers have got to be more excited about the break than the student. I must have had a handful of 'celebration' dinners in quick succession; any reason at all to raise a glass, put on lipstick. It wasn't a free summer for me, since I was in school Monday - Thursday, but there's always time for the beach after studying!

In July, M & C and Rowan came to visit again, and this time he was twice as big. Cousin hosted us at their cabin at Buccaneer Bay, and it was sandy and briney and a respite from city living. We love our chosen and actual families.

August came, and summer school ended. (I really don't know what I'll do with myself when I get my summers back this year. What do you meaaaaaaan I will get to do what I want M-F, with no one to answer to, no books to crack open?) I got to choose my birthday trip getaway, so to Ucluelet we went! With stops in Tofino and Victoria, and so much rain and water all around us, it was the calming celebration I was looking for. That, and surfing ruled.

I turned 32 with friends and laughter and dancing, bidding adieu to 31 and a full summer.

F

Fall began, rather abruptly, and we were in the professional saddle. I started my second (and hopefully last) year in the Masters program, and also started Clinic. This meant I was seeing real client for the first time in this capacity, and it was nerve-wracking and everything I had hoped it would be. Counselling, in the flesh, was and is so humbling.

Another trend of this year. All the amazing baby friends my life :

And this baby, too. 2016 felt like a really solid year for our marriage.

We ended our year with a trip out east to Montreal over the Christmas break. I think all we did was eat and sleep for three days . . .

. . . Before driving across the border into Vermont, to visit our family on their beautiful farm. We had a sweet Christmas with the excitement of two little ones under foot, and lots of cuddles.

We rang in the new year by going to bed by 11pm after watching TV, and called it a truly lovely year.

2016: thanks for your challenges and your grace.

I'll tell you more about how 2017 is going soon.

A look back at : 2015/ 2014 / 2013 / 2012

of late: September, October, November Musings

2016-12-14T22:59:00.000-08:00

1/ baby shower for M + J 2/ blue september skies and Lily Point to ourselves

3/ retail therapy: sticker club + thrifted three piece suit 4/ autumn is here

5/ treating my bestie to bratwurst at Bestie's 6/ oh hai

7/ evelyn! 8/ november laundry!

9/ whistler selfie as our noses freeze 10/ alta lake

Of late...

September, October and November were//

A whole epic season. One that always sweeps me up and blows me around in the air, while red and orange maple leaves get crinkled in my hair. Autumn does that to me annually-- I start going and going and by the time I stop, it's almost time to wrap presents and plan veggie sides for a turkey.

But this one specifically: It was very very very very very very everything. So big. So good. So full. VERY.

I'm still a little wide-eyed about it all, and write this as much to check in with you, as to reflect on what has been swirling around for me.

Let's get to it.

On Clinic//

If you have been around me for even 10 minutes these last three months, I would have waxed on about Clinic endlessly, if you asked me how I was doing. I say the word CLINIC more now than I say the word 'doughnuts'. (A feat, to be sure.)

To clarify for those that are far-flung, Clinic is the practical component of the second year in our Masters course that every Counselling grad student must complete. It is a six month journey into trying out how empathy and open-ended questioning feels on our tongue; a heart experiment into how to hold space for someone when they are crying, grieving, raging, numb.

Up until now, we had been practicing our skills on each other (or our spouses, if they are very unlucky). Clinic meant real clients, real hurt, real stakes.

On the first night we were to meet our first client, everyone on my team had palpable energy that filled the room, if ignited. I felt like a live-wire, so squirmy, so full of nerves and excitement that I was fit to burst. It felt almost exactly like all those moments in the dark wings of the theatre, just before I entered onstage in character for Opening Night. It has been fascinating for me how the process of my past life as an actor has in so many ways mirrored my current life as a teacher, and now my present and future life as a counsellor. That arc of -- anticipation, fear, you're ON now : no time for nerves, confidence / calm, hitting your stride, jubilation, pride, collapse.

That first night, before my cue to enter stage right, I said to my Clinic team:

It feels like I'm becoming a woman tonight.
I mean. Of course, that's not exactly right. (It's not really like first period, first kiss, first other things...)

But it feels just as momentous, just as significant as a developmental milestone --

There is the moment Before. And there will be the moment After.

After tonight, I will be a Counsellor.

Everything I've worked on for so long, with so much heart, will be legitimized.

I will never forget the experience of that night with my first client. How it felt to be with. How the theory or skills I was worried I would forget, were just there when I opened my mouth.

Since then, I have shown up every Thursday for the last three months with various levels of being: nauseous, steady, thrilled, discombobulated. What I carry with me though, that I unwrapped for myself in first year, is the sense that at all times, I am myself. I no longer try to pretend to be perfect or calm when I'm not, and as my ability to stay vulnerable grows, I get taller and wider and more and more expansive.

It is very good. I adore Clinic very much.

(Thank the Lord.)

What Else Did You Love?//

♥ Carving out a morning vinyasa ritual on Thursdays, to ground and centre before clients. There are years that I don't do yoga at all, and am grateful that I found a routine I like this year. It's hard to stay stuck in your thoughts when you're updogging downdogging.

♥ Discovering the trails at Pacific Spirit Park. It is a mystery to me how I never realized that there was a wooded forest so accessible to us in Vancouver, after years of going to UBC. You look way up, and all around, and everything in view is green.

♥ Reading all the books during moments when students are preoccupied: Fates & Furies, Bastard Out of Carolina, The Sasquatch Hunter's Almanac, You'll Grow Out of It

♥ Loving re-reading my daily diary for these months and seeing how many times I read "Had the sweetest students today" -- this TOC life is really not a bad gig, man.

♥ That lovely afternoon we got to meet sweet Evelyn for the first time! Reuniting with her parents over egg salad / pastrami sandwiches wasn't half bad either.

♥ Best friend went into labour on Nov. 4th and brought our newest friend, Ethan, into the world. So very proud of her. Meeting him in the NICU was inimate and special.

♥ Taking solace in nature on the weekend of our 8 year anniversary of our first date. We had Zoe the dog, the many lakes of Whistler, and memorizing Beyonce lyrics in the car.

Some Stuff that Sucked//

- ongoing mouse visitor as soon as the weather turned cold. Poops haunting us. One mousey trapped, to our immense relief, only to see another the very night we had a deep clean.

- B didn't get a job he wanted, and we felt sad. Uchhhhhhh but he's such a good teacher! We soothed ourselves with doughnuts, chips, sour keys, The Good Wife, and homemade butternut squash soup. I consoled myself with the deep knowing that he inevitably will get a contract and this uncertain time in our careers will be a memory only.

- The election. Seeing people impacted by that news, while others just couldn't grasp how much it does impact the marginalized, how it impacts us all. Feeling simultaneously heavy and committed.

Body is//

Squawking a bit, but is doing so well for this time of year. It's letting me know I need to take care of myself, but is giving me more wiggle room to do so. I think I am learning, friends. This season, I've been softer on myself than before. Setting more limits and boundaries. Protecting my time.

Things I Ate That Were Good//

- Family dinner for Ken's birthday at Savio Volpe. THAT STEAK. OMG.

- I tried the Chicken, Brocoli and Cheese dish at White Spot for the first time. It wins.

- Mom's cooking now that she's retired and has a newfound interest in it. Dad's ribs.

- Steak Frites at Faux Bourgeois

5 Items in my Kitchen at Any Given Time//

- Lemons

- Goat Feta

- Kale

- Butter

- Eggs

Wearing//

Heels and my grown up clothes on Thursdays so that I don't look like a child to my clients.

Jeans every time I teach, because no matter what I look like, the kids guess I'm 22 or 45 anyway.

Upcoming//

I put down my theory books and noodle my nose into the spines of literature again.

I explore Montreal for my third time, but first time as a wife.

I get to have dance parties with my niece and hold my nephew on a farm in Vermont.

I hopefully sleep a heck of a lot.

Knowing you and this space is out there has been a real source of safety and comfort for me. Thank you for caring, for reading, for being an anchor that I tether my calmness to. I hope you are getting what you need.

With all my love,

Your pen pal

of late: July & August Musings

2016-11-03T00:04:00.000-07:00

1/ Fancy double date with our BFFs ; a Sourdough hobby that was exquisite and short

2/ Lush walks on Thormanby island ; Obsession with our godson

3/ School wife ; 3rd anniversary dinner in fancy duds

4/ xoxo X 1 million ; Joffre Lake

5/ Saturna: time standing still on ferry ; 3 generations of Green men

6/ Ucluelet getaway : walks in pouring rain ; fish tacos

7/ Ucluelet getaway II : outdoors cures all things

Of late...

I last wrote on June 28th and now it is November.
If I was feeling dramatic, I would say: that's nearly half a year without writing to you!
But: I am mostly feeling sleepy, and a bit behind on other things I have to do, so instead I say: that will do little lamb, that will do. Good for you for starting again.

It's always nice to come back to this space.

July and August were//

A study in how one can wake up at 6am every day to go to school, and maintain a semblance (and many times actual state) of calm and joy. Quite remarkably, this Eeyore body--with its propensity for hitting snooze three times in a half hour span-- would be standing on a crowded bus by 7am, heading to class with a thought out ensemble and not too many crinkles on her brow. You get used to the things you must do, and this was the summer I fit in all the classes I needed to get out of the way by Fall.

Less carefree nights, whimsical "What should I do today?" musings, and jaunts overseas to Europe,

but . . . you know. Everything has its season.

What Did You Love?//

♥ The presence that Rowan is in our lives. The way he squeaks and smiles and how we're fortunate to be his chosen family and to watch him grow up. This most recent visit, he was the biggest boy who loved chilling with his Gigi and Bry Pops (still working on our nicknames.)

♥ The magic that is Buccaneer Bay / Thormanby island, and the beautiful cabin that Cousin designed. Despite mosquitos and the roughest waters I've ever been on, it was so lovely to be on their land with sea and sand spotted from every window.

♥ The glorious Sunday morning I attempted making sourdough pancakes topped with greek yoghurt, mango slices and coconut flakes. The sourdough hobby has since died, but that breakfast was accccce.

♥ Dancing my butt off to Spice Girls and JLo and other 90's Gods with my schoolwife, and getting out unspent energy in a sweaty, dark club.

♥ Meeting our nephew Luke for the first time. That long, smiley, calm hearted bug. xo

♥ Conquering two goals: putting my bike on the bus (a long held irrational fear) and biking all the way from East Van to UBC. THAT HILL AT THE END, THOUGH. Yeesh.

On turning Three//

Around our anniversary, I wanted to write a specific post celebrating our marriage and how it felt to be turning three years old with my husband. I have wanted to write a post on our anniversary every year, one where he participates and shares his own voice and his writer's talent, and it just never happens.

The day came and went; I wore pink heels while eating pasta and squeezing his hand. We marvelled that a year ago, we were celebrating 2 years with wind-slapped cheeks in Iceland-- and a year before that, we were feeling distant from one another and unsettled from our big move to Vancouver. Our 1 year felt sort of sad, like we had failed an important quiz, despite studying hard for it.

It is nothing short of incredible what three years since the wedding and communication can do.

Three years in, we remain each others' greatest ally and soccer-mom-cheerleader. We continue to ask for what we need from the other, while being aware of our own baggage and hidden landmines we each bring to the table. We host imaginary talk shows in our living room, with only ourselves as the audience, and laugh all the time. Sometimes I cry too, or his heart feels sad, and both those things are OK because we never feel the need to hide either.

Maybe next year we'll write that special post together, but for now, I am quite content that there exists a man in this world who has a giant lemon pie tattooed on his hip for me.

Ucluelet!//

Remember how I get sort of weird and squirrelly around my birthday? This year I did the best thing. I celebrated earlier in the month with my best friends at my favourite restaurant at a long table, and then a couple weeks later when the real deal was happening, Bry and I just skipped town.

Ucluelet had biblical amounts of rain the ENTIRE time we were there, but my god were we happy. I am at my very best when it is just me and him and nature, and that's what it was like for four days. We stopped to hug Red Cedars and Douglas Firs, traipsed around wet forests getting drenched, stuffed our gills with mac n' cheese hot dogs, gazed into a horizon of nothingness and endless Pacific ocean, and watched epic amounts of TV at night. Literally, my favourite.

And, in an epic Herculean feat of our marriage, B convinced me to try surfing. In the rain. In an ocean. (Have I told you yet of my fear of open water and lack of swimming capabilities?)

He was such a good, patient teacher, and I was such a willing and excited student. In my diary on August 30th I wrote: I LEARNED TO SURF IN THE RAIN! I am a powerful goddess!!!!!! :D

If you know me, this is proof that anything is possible, and that magic exists in the universe.

I'm 32!

Things I Ate That Were Good//

- Hank's BBQ in Ukee

- Zoe's Bakery in Ukee

- Fish tacos from the place in Ukee that isn't Tacofino

- Lamb gnocci and green tomato salad from Savio Volpe

- Chicken banh mi from Ba Le

- Sausage rolls from that guy at the Trout Lake farmer's market

- The most amazing fermented cinnamon sticky roll from @annabellechoistudio

Things I Ate That Were Overrated//

- Wolf and Fog in Tofino (sorry)

- Maenam in Kitsilano (sorry X 2)

A bummer//

That time my bike got stolen from the side of my house. I think I am still mostly in denial about it. I don't go to the scene of the crime very often, and I'm back to mainly walking around.

Go straight to hell, bike thieves.

Please Don't Leave on a Low Note//

Oh, okay. Well. Here's a dorky picture of me and my surfboard!

Upcoming//

I start Year 2 (and hopefully the last year, fingers crossed) of grad school. I write to tell you all about it.

I get back into the rhythm of packing lunches and going to bed by 10pm.

I see real clients for the first time, and feel so nervousexcited that I have to lie down.

I try to decide whether to abandon my last and final post of the euromoon, because at this point, it's been a million years since. But it's London! So.. we'll see.

All this and more . . . coming soon!

Absence or not from this place, you are often fondly in my thoughts. I hope the world has been real, real sweet to you lately.

With all my love,

Your pen pal

of late: April, May and June Musings

2016-06-28T17:20:00.000-07:00

1/ Portland, J style: flowers & pies

2/ Portland, B style: ciders & mac n' cheese hotdogs

3/ Spring: our garden, our picnics

4/ School: celebration & mes noveaux amis

5/ Peonies: before & after

6/ Sunday adventures: Dog Mountain views

7/ Babies: Marge's new little love & the twins

8/ Indian Arm: views & berries

9/ Celebration: so much to rejoice over

10/ Hope: solstice & end of year margaritas

Of late...

April, May and June were//

A whole season of joy.

Does anyone out there not like these months? What spring can bring? Every year, it is a time where I bumble around saying to the blue sky: I can't believe it! You're back; to the flowers and the bees: I love you, marry me!; to the sun and the rain: Thank you for everything.

Life was so full this season that I had to get out my daily diary to see what had happened, why I have to lump all the months together this time--and I could barely get through a week's worth of entries without wanting to share some snippet or memory.

There was a lot. I have a lot.

Even in the moments when I am very tired, so overwhelmed, inexplicably sad... I am just plum dumb lucky to have what I have.

What Did You Love?//

♥ The amount of times B has come through for us in his humble, hard-working, nurturing way. I can't cook dinner or do laundry because of a deadline? No problem. He's on it. I'm stress crying again? He holds me like a little lamb.

♥ The best friend is having a baby, which means another nugget to love and love and love

♥ Dancing in my sky-high green Amsterdam heels with my lovely new friends and celebrating the end of intense UBC classes

♥ New recipe: BBQ zuch/spring onion salad from My New Roots with lemongrass sausages was an A+ home run

♥ Snow and sunshine and mango guacamole on a hike up Dog mountain.

♥ Every time I chose to bike to work.

♥ Having the whole side of an island to ourselves and eating chocolate under moonlight on our canoe trip up Indian Arm

♥ Spending time with my parents learning about their childhood for a family therapy genogram project. They are rad.

♥ Spontaneous date nights to Anh and Chi, Tacofino, Noodle Box, Red Wagon-- pretty much any time I get to eat with my husband and no one has to cook or clean. GROWN UP HEAVEN.

♥ June celebrations: sis turns 30! dad turns 65! parents' marriage turns 37! momma is officially a retiree!

♥ The teaching school year coming to an end, with both of us bone-tired but with more compassion, more skills, more confidence. This marks seven years of us in the profession.

On School, this Round//

I was that student in undergrad that would put off her papers until literally the night before, start at 11pm, and write until 7 in the morning. Then, I'd skip class to sleep and eventually bus to school to hand in my paper, and slink away. I always got A's.

I don't do that anymore, and yet, each major assignment still twists my brain into a sailor's knot, and my spine into a pretzel. Like every time. I procrastinate over written work, and obsess over presentations. The entire back of my head becomes a heavy slug. I binge watch comfort TV and eat commiseration doughnuts (not to be confused with celebration doughnuts).

All of it is rooted in my specific brand of perfectionism and I am trying to unlearn some patterns. It is hard when bad habits still yield top scores, and you misthink: Clearly, this seems to be working...

Both /And (as opposed to Either/ Or) : I am proud of myself for being such a hard working, thoughtful, & creative individual AND I need to chill the fuck out.

Portland!//

YAAAAAAAAAS. What a gift we gave ourselves! I know a lot of you who go semi-regularly, but I haven't been in a few years and Bry has never been...

It was just delightful. Maybe one of the top three highlights of the whole year.

My second morning, I soaked in the gorgeous tub at our Airbnb, dumped vast amounts of epsom salts in the water, as I quietly wept to myself. Just kidding about the last part. I read a food magazine about stuff I was about to eat in Portland. I played Bon Iver from my phone. They have a rain shower the size of my office at home, where I rinsed off. It was like the most romantic solo date ever.

I think B's top moment was either when we walked into Portland Cider and his face slackened as he realized there were 28 ciders on tap (versus the 1 or the 0 in Vancouver), or when we went to Fred Meyer and there was a city-block's worth of craft beer and cider in their fridges, a bar, and a guy who gave him taste tests of everything on tap.

I almost penned a whole separate blog post on these three days, but I eventually couldn't summarize how it all felt like such a haven from the long days of work and school. Everything I was writing felt inadequate.

So, trust that we will be saving nickles and dimes to go again, and as a general public service announcement: the burgers we had at Deschutes Brewery were the best ones we've had since New York.

On Feminism//

On April 13th in my journal, I wrote: I am feeling the patriarchy lately.

As I get older, the systems that conspire to separate us become more and more palpable. I become more furious. I don't want my godson to grow up in a world where he is told he has to man up, that tears are for the weak, that chasing girls is an integral aspect of his boyhood. I don't want any future daughters to think her body is anything but her own (not from the school administrators that police her spaghetti strapped tank top; or politicians that say what she can and cannot do with her own womb; not from someone at a party who finds it encouraging that she is just a bit too drunk to say no.)

It's weird and insulting when I say something and it gets dismissed, just to have B say the same exact thing again, and have nods all around. (This truly happens more than you think.)

I am tired of us vs. them, cats vs. dogs, emotion vs. logic, venus vs. mars.

I want to be listened to, and I want to listen to you.

Privilege based on gender is an important thing to recognize: whether you have it or you don't.

On a lighter note, this response to a Dr. Seuss story made me LOL.

Current not-real-but-real problems//

- Making lunch

- What length to cut my hair

- How to get my bike on a bus

Upcoming//

I wear birkenstocks every day and give fashion a break for the summer.

I bike up and down and up and down and grow very strong indeed.

I swim / flail in the ocean in my blue bathing suit, and watch salt dry on my skin while squishing Rowan's cheeks.

I try Aquafit!

The days are long now, and so is my fondness for all of you.

With all my love,

Your pen pal

Up Indian Arm

2016-06-24T00:09:00.001-07:00

A few hours ago, I took the wedge of parmesan cheese from the fridge door, and unceremoniously took several toothy bites out of it. Because I was too tired to fix myself a proper snack, because nibbling would involve no dishes or knives or cutting boards to clean.
So, the parm we reserve for dusting on pasta is no longer a perfect triangle, and looks as though a gigantic mouse-shark hit pay day.

I was too tired-- a phrase that I, and he, and many around us have been saying lately.

We are limping towards the light, to that annual bit of sun and hope that the end of the school year brings. We are plum ready for respite, and maybe an adventure.

Until we can peel ourselves off the couch, or the bed, or the cabinet in the bathroom we sometimes sleep against, here is an adventure with a capital A we took one long weekend in May.

-----------------------------------------------------------

Let me start this off by saying that I am okay that we likely won't be doing much international travelling in our near future, so long as weekends like this are within our grasp.

It takes no effort, really. You call a guy about renting his canoe. You buy a watermelon. You meet your new beauty in all her muted sea-green glory, and name her Avocado. You strap her to the car.

You find yourself a husband who is awesome at camping meal planning, and name him Trip Captain. He looks into the details, and you insist on breakfast burritos and maple glazed doughnuts in Deep Cove.

You park, pile everything else you might need for the next 48hrs into the boat, and suddenly, you have left land for the wide, blue sea.

It turns out that your Trip Captain is also the powerhouse behind any movement Avocado is making, and you might as well be an ornamental mermaid at the bow of the boat. In your head though, you are a worthy contributor to the joint effort in getting the canoe to your stop for the evening, Twin Island.

A mere 45 minutes from the marina, the island is a really sweet spot for for escaping from the hot scorch of the sun, and to break up your journey so that you can swim, read, tan, nap, set up camp, cook, and talk in the moonlight underneath the stars while eating dark chocolate, all with relative ease. Save the big paddle for tomorrow.

(Later, you will find out that the paddling you have been doing on Day 1 amounts to lily dipping, and you redouble your efforts the next day so that your husband's arms do not fall off. Note: the boat moves much faster this way.)

You set off in the morning after a lovely sleep, even though you decide to keep your contacts in. (You will actually keep the same contacts in for a record-breaking two days, because rules of hygiene do not trump rules of efficiency in the wilderness. Your eyes will be dry like toast, but don't worry, you are a badass outdoors warrior now.)

Funny story.

You set out ahead of most of the other camper-canoers on the island, because they are hungover and a tad slow, and you are not. You both paddle hard for a few hours, motivated to find the best camp spot up the coast. At some point, needing to pee and to eat lunch, Trip Captain and you decide to pull over on a rocky beach just past a waterfall. There haven't been a lot of parkable shoreline options until now, so everyone is very excited.

By this time, it is about 1pm. Really reasonable.

You make a couple awesome tuna wraps, hang out with a colony of ants, an abandoned cabin, and so many ferns from the dinosaur age. Trip Captain naps, and you read a book, and it gets later and later. At some point, after you've eaten a few berries and inspected the beautiful, wild foxglove growing languidly everywhere, he says it might be best to stay here for the night and not go any further up Indian Arm. He is concerned that heading to the actual campsite you've both earmarked will wipe out the energy reserves tonight, and that paddling back home in the morning with the potential of wind and tide will mean 18k of arm strength that he (understandably) doubts your lily limbs can handle. He doesn't say this in so many words. You do not agree.

And then somehow, you end up having one of those 'discussions' your marriage is infamous for, full of thoughtful concern for the other person, and very long pauses, and no one putting their foot down--meaning that no decisions get made, and the hours pass by so it's now 4pm, then 5pm, and every so often, you see in the distance canoes and kayaks floating past, and you worry that all the camp spots will be taken up, as you arrive-- with no dinner in your belly --sweaty and in the dark.

You don't want to stay here. It felt perfect for a lunch spot, but claustrophobic for a sleeping spot, and besides, the abandoned, falling down cabin gives you the heebie jeebies and you don't want to be the only two souls here when it gets dark.

But it is hard to say this irrational train of thought in the face of Trip Captain's reasoned logic about the tides turning against you in the morning, and the ease of staying here so you can get home swiftly.

HOURS OF POLITE MARRIAGE DISCOURSE.

In the end, your sadness and resignation that this potentially is the farthest you'll go up Indian Arm imprints on your face like a mopey bear, and as seeing you unhappy is your husband's most unliked thing, he throws all the shit back into the boat and you push off for the unknown, primary colors of a map that doesn't tell you much in the way of how close your next camping site is.

But lo! Behold! The freedom of leaving behind a cramped sliver of land for open water feels replenishing and hopeful indeed.

So much so that some bends later, a welcoming shoreline of other humans appears, and you both feel like idiots for marooning yourselves in Indecision for so long. You could have been on this very expansive beach for hours by now.

Oh well. No matter. You are now busy snarfing down watermelon, and being very smiley and smug that you were right and don't have to spend the night next to a haunted shack anymore.

Curry is made, supplies are hung up in a tree, and no one even really is bothered by the drunk party singing about hot dogs behind them. Sleep is easily attained, on account of all the actual paddling and the burn of accomplishment in your upper arms.

The final morning is foggy and deliciously so.

There is something very calming about a grey sky when you wake up outside, even when faced with some rain. Everything smells more earthy and anyway--your soul has forgotten about things like showering and furniture, and all is as it should be.

Breakfast is coconut milked oats with freshly picked salmon berries that Trip Captain has foraged. The colours bust open your eyeballs really wide.

The way back is peace incarnate. You and he spy 17 seals between the two of you, 1 otter and hundreds (and I mean hundreds) of jelly fish. Your paddle glides in and out amidst their translucent, ebbing bodies. Eagles fly past, and their young hawks parachute down from the sky.

Everything is like a Mary Oliver poem, or something.

All told, you paddle 12 km back in the direction of home. You've gotten used to the rhythm, and feel strong and able. Your skin turns brown, despite the cloud cover.

The marina is ahead of you now, and other people on stand up paddle boards and kayaks begin to dot the horizon. It has just been the two of you for the past several hours, so it is a bit startling and maybe a little bittersweet to see civilization, and realize that your time as a guest of nature is drawing to a close.

You haul Avocado on the beach, unload, watch Trip Captain tie some knots.

You put off turning your phone on for a while longer, relish in this stillness--

then ask to go for another doughnut.

You're a beaut, BC. Thanks for letting us live here.

travelogue: south of france, we go

2016-05-24T16:22:00.001-07:00

During the planning of this trip, certain countries would get crossed off the dream list, but France was never one of them.

We often changed our minds about where to spend our time in France, or for how long--Paris for a weekend, even though it would be the third time? (But it's PARIS!) Or no, let's go camping in Corsica, that teeny island close to the neighboring Italian island, Sardinia, where we could spent a couple weeks, sleeping on the beach and eating fresh fish.

So many options. All luminous. None of which would be disappointing.

Ultimately, we settled on a different experience altogether.

Stop #5 of the Euromoon: a road trip through the cities and villages of the South of France, manifesting fields of lavender and markets full of cheese along the way.

Quick Facts / FAQ's:

Timing: We flew into Marseilles from Venice on August 10th, and flew out on August 17th, which gave us seven nights to explore. Given what we could afford (both money-wise and time-wise on this trip), a full week made sense for us. Any less, and we would have felt rushed. Any more, and we would have missed Maggie's wedding! Were we to go again, or if we were giving advice to fellow travellers, I think 10-14 days (if not a month) (or a summer) (or a YEAR) would be a good amount of time to relax into that part of the world, and give yourself some buffer travel days on either side.
We missed lavender season by a few weeks, and arrived on the heels of the end of sunflower season. Lots of dried up, alien looking Van Goghs dotting the fields as we whizzed past.

Season: Summer. By which I mean, we ruled out any potential Airbnbs that didn't have air-conditioning or a fan, and we tried to get to the markets before the epic sun was in full force. And hats. Always hats.

Itinerary: Three nights in Aix-en-Provence; two nights in Lauris (our base camp village for exploring the Luberon Valley); two nights in Marseilles.

Accommodation:

We stayed at this Airbnb in Aix, and it was a gem. Super walkable to everything, quiet, affordable, charming with its French ceilings and tiny winding stone staircase up, but extremely comfortable with modern amenities. 100% recommended. Only drawback was no easy parking, if you have a car.

In Lauris, we stayed in this private extension of a huge, gorgeous house, situated on an olive grove (!!!) but right in the heart of the village. Again, walkable to everything, affordable, 100% recommended. Helene was an extremely gracious host.

In Marseilles, we stayed in a private room of a house which had a fun deck and garden (with flourishing marijuana plants), but it wasn't close to very many things to eat or see. We were in the 12th arrondissement, which felt a bit like no man's land. Also, as I get older, I realize that privacy really affects whether I love an accommodation or not, and that essentially, I am a social recluse who doesn't like sharing bathrooms with strangers.

Transportation: An easy, and cheap hour flight from Venice. We had pre-booked a rental car for the week at the airport, and compared to how much a car rental was in Iceland, it felt like paying for five cent candy from the corner store. You'll have to confirm with Bry, but I think (from the passenger seat), it was fairly seamless to drive in the South of France, and there were plenty of windy roads to keep our attention captivated, and rocky cliffs in the distance to look at. We had to get creative about parking when we got into the cities (our first naive night in Aix, we paid $40 CDN in an underground parking lot close to our apartment), but having a car otherwise was well worth it to explore.

Clothing: Birkenstocks and cut off shorts. In the summer, I am wildly unimaginative in terms of my wardrobe. Luckily, people are very casual in this region. Luckily, it's too hot for me to care.

Parlez-vous francais?: Just so you know, I held my own in terms of textbook Gr. 10 French (specifically, chapters like "Les voyages!": thank you for your vocabulary). One time, I popped out of the car and bounded in a restaurant in Lauris and exclaimed "Pouvez-nous faire un reservation pour ce soir? Peut-être sept-heurs et demi?"

APPLAUD ME. Are you proud, Mme. Arquilla?

Why I would come back: The markets of Aix-en-Provence. There was a moment when we descended upon our first market, where I got overwhelmingly flooded with happiness, and my eyes started tearing up like an idiot; me in front of an olive stand, while vendors on either side of me sold plump peaches and every flavour of goat cheese that exists in heaven.

Days 1-3:

Cortina and Venice had been a lot of action for us, so France was an excuse to do less.

Wake up, go to the market for fruit and cheese, go to the boulangerie for a baguette (and a spelt loaf!), go to the patisserie for pain au chocolat, eclairs, croissants, come home to our cozy apartment, stuff our faces, nap, repeat.

I don't think we went to a restaurant once while we were in Aix.

One afternoon in Aix, after our market ritual was over and naps had been taken, we looked on a map and decided to drive west, to go search for water and stone.

What I particularly love about travelling in Europe is how young you feel when you're there; in the grand scheme of the timeline, it is humbling to be reminded that we are just blips at the end. Zygotes, really.

We passed an ancient Roman aqueduct, cooled off in a stream, and then followed a winding road that took us past limestone hills. After 45 minutes of driving, we took a stop (and a nap) in the town of Saint Chamas, where we admired the remains of a first century BC bridge, Pont Flavien. The town of Miramas was next, and we drove up to the veille ville (old town), perched on a hilltop.

Views, everywhere.

Day 4-5:

Sad to leave, but excited to explore, we moved on from Aix to Lauris, only a 45min drive north.

Our time here consisted of relaxing in our own olive grove, meeting cats on the cobblestoned streets, poking through antique shops in the neighbouring town of Bonnieux, stocking up on ripe figs and strawberries, and doing a drive-by of Gordes, one of the most notable hill-top villages in the Luberon.

The photo above documents the moment that we found out Rowan Evans, our godson, was born. This is generally the disturbing face I make when I am really, really happy.

Our last night in Lauris, we had our first (and only) fancy, multi-course dinner in France. The plate of cheese they presented us after our steaks, and before the dessert, blew our minds.

(The mere act of being presented with a plate of huge hunks and rounds of cheese is enough to be spellbound. I wish that was a custom here in Canada.)

Day 6-7:

Onwards.

On our way out of Lauris towards Marseilles for the last stint of our road trip, we stopped at Chateau la Coste, a winery / outdoor art and architecture exhibit in one. Surrounding the rows upon rows of grapes, there are installations by different artists from around the world nestled in the trees for you to stumble upon. Some are interactive, some quirky, and some jut out really strangely against the otherwise pastoral landscape.

You can make a whole day out of it. It takes a couple hours to explore the vast grounds searching for the art, a bit more to do a wine tasting or tour, and then a leisurely hour at the cafe, resting your feet with the resident cat and some dessert and coffee.

This piece of cake--the Tropézienne--was so good. Dreamed up on the island of St. Tropez, apparently. I don't know how the humble combo of brioche, powdered sugar and a light, airy butter cream can make something that lands in my Top 5 Things I Ate in Europe, but there you have it.

(I'm hungry now.)

After, we drive south to Marseilles, only getting lost a few times.

Pictured below is the aforementioned house we stayed at, with flourishing plants in the foreground.

I feel ill-equipped to recommend anything from our time in this city to you. We were so tired. Had been away from home for 25 days or so, and maybe just needing a Netflix and sleep kind of weekend. We also happened to arrive in Marseilles late on a Saturday night, with nothing of interest in close walking proximity.

This is how you end up eating McDonald's and doing laundry for an evening. Remember, travelling can't be glamorous all the time.

We sleep early. Then, Sunday! In our imaginations, we had packed it full with adventure.

The plan was to leave early in the day, and drive to the nearby town of Cassis, to spend the afternoon in the Calanques and do some kayaking and turquoise-blue water gazing. Otherwise known as the main reason we left the Luberon at all. However, the winds were too strong and we had heard that being on the water in a kayak might be a shit show under those conditions, so we nixed that idea. Strike one. Also, it being a Sunday, a lot of the restaurants we had bookmarked prior to arrival, and were excited about, were unfortunately closed. Strike two. We strolled around the crowded marina a little aimlessly, and found the city centre to be a bit intense. Later that evening, we saw a pretty sunset, and then had one of the more touristy, expensive, and lacklustre meals of our lives. It took us an hour to get our desserts after the meal, and our server looked like she was going to scream at me or cry, when I approached her for the bill.

Strike. Three.

You who know and love Marseilles, please write to me and teach me how to do it better.
Sadly, it was a bit of a bust for us.

Still, I think that to have been on the road for a month and only be discontent with our surroundings a handful of times is a pretty privileged place to be in. And, even amidst this honesty, I know myself to be very lucky to get a chance to complain at all, and that for many, Marseilles is undoubtedly a fond place to call home.

South of France, you are unapologetically real and yourself. Also, all your food drips with butter, and that is A-OK in my book.

Je t'aime.

Thank you for reading. See you next time, for the last instalment of the trip!

----------------------

(Here's our little film of Southern France, in case you missed it the first time around.)

of late: February / March Musings

2016-05-01T16:07:00.001-07:00

1/ Still life of precious objects 2/ Rainy stroller dance off

3/ Heart explosion 4/ Batard Boulangerie aka Paris on Fraser st

5/ Spring! 6/ Ro Ro

7/ I love dating my husband 8/ Checking tacos off the list

9/ My favourite season 10/ Walks in any weather

11/ School: not glamourous, but satisfying 12/ Fuel

Of late...

February and March were//

A. a long, long time ago

B. super significant

C. worthy of a much belated pen pal letter

The last time you heard from me in January, I was struggling under the weight of school, and my body was taking a toll under all that strain. It was hard for me to heed her call to slow down, and everything around me felt like heaviness.

But then.

Things changed.

That is to say, I changed.

Stress continued to be present, I continued to be underslept and overworked-- but I stopped resisting.

I stopped trying to make everything easier, better.

I dared myself to feel All the Feelings. Even the shitty ones. Especially the shitty ones.

I told the truth. I stopped answering, "Fine" when people asked, "How are you?"

And the result? Everything was easier, and everything was better.

Huh.

Be More Specific, Please (You're so cryptic sometimes)//

What! Alright.

I did something that was a big deal for me, in early Feb. It started a snowball effect of healing that continues to this very moment of typing. I decided to tell the truth. A couple of wise and loving little birdies in my life encouraged me to take this risk, when I was very unsure that it was the right move to take.

Because I was struggling and not necessarily listening to my body in the ways it needed, my skin was hit hard in January. I was having a hard time adjusting to school, and felt sad, and angry, and lonely, and overwhelmed, but didn't know how to love myself in spite of feeling these things, so my skin absorbed those painful mouthfuls on my behalf, to show me things needed to change.

(Thank you. You are so strong and brave.)

My eczema flared badly on my face and body, I became reacquainted with insomnia, and all the while, I worked and went to school, keeping silent and stoic. I started flushing bright red again. The colour would come and stay for minutes or hours. I turned red because I was hot, then because I was flustered, and then: angry, excited, neutral. I was alternately pink, or crimson. Sometimes, in the darkness of my living room, all by myself, instigated by nothing, I would suddenly feel my face on fire, simply while I was watching TV.

You could say that I started to shrink a little.

I made myself smaller. Made less eye contact in my classes. Kept my head down. Didn't want anyone to notice the rash, or the dryness, and especially the redness. Avoided mirrors.

I felt the most exposed in my Group Counselling class, where we sat in a big circle facing one another, taking turns talking. A group of near strangers in a grad program that emanates a feeling of professionalism; not so conducive to soul-baring. There in the circle, I willed the ground to swallow me whole when my face began to flush. I walked a confusing line of drawing as little attention to myself as possible, and pretending I was cool, breezy, unaffected. Every time I came to campus, each and every cell asked each other anxiously, "Will we flush today? Will they see all our imperfections?"

By February, I was exhausted. Frustrated, because I didn't want to turtle myself in school: I wanted to be engaged. Sad, too, because the only place I felt like I could be authentic and lost was in my own home with all my messy feelings safe to see the light of day. Being real only when you're on your own is a lonely prospect.

Then one day, I flirted with a thought.

What if I don't have to keep this struggle to myself?

What if I name what is going on for me?

What if it doesn't matter what colour my skin is?

How smooth?

After all, the power of a secret is in the shame of not telling. There really is nothing left if it gets expelled into the clean air.

I gathered some plucked courage from somewhere deep inside. And after four weeks of class in Group, where I contemplated opening my mouth, but then would scurry back into my heart. . . one night, I took a deep breath and said my truths. It was at the very beginning of class, after my instructor posed the familiar question: Is there any leftover business to discuss?

Oh yes. I had a lot of leftover business. They tumbled out of me like frogs seeking rain. My limbs shook a little, and then a lot. My voice croaked like a young boy. I told them most of what I told you, keeping my eye- line near the crowns of their heads, afraid to see expressions of rejection and awkwardness on their faces. Being vulnerable is like walking off a ledge and free falling.

But.

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw nods and felt knee squeezes, and sensed moon beams of compassion and respect. What I thought would be Too Much Information, especially for such a professional setting, was actually Just Enough Realness. Afterwards, people came up to me and said "I'm struggling too. Thank you."

My heart smiled and smiled.

Since that moment, I have learned that crumbling the mask of distance and perfection is my soul's journey to becoming brighter, fuller, free. When I am authentic with you (especially with the things that are fragile in my life, things you have to hold as delicately as blown glass), the risk is scary but the reward is magnificent.

In saying that to my classroom of people, in saying this to you, I am actually saying to me:

I love myself exactly as I am.

And that has made all the difference.

What Did You Love?//

♥ Witnessing the miracle that is our bodies: since my admission to my colleagues, my skin has gotten exponentially better every day. I stopped turning red that same evening. It is simultaneously astonishing and as it should be. Heal your mind, heal your body.

♥ Having our best friends come visit us from the Yukon, and being reunited with pals that know us as a unit. That knowing is very special stuff. Especially if you can survive a mouldy ceiling collapsing in your rental cabin, and still be friends.

♥ Being asked to be the godparents to the cutest (and biggest) baby in the world, Rowan William Evans! I don't know a lot of babies, so I may be biased.

♥ Beef dip sandwiches at Batard Boulangerie on Fraser. Oh mannnnnn.

♥ Amidst the nuttiness that is school, writing down a list of dates for my love and I to do together, as a beacon of hope and something to look forward to once things calm down.

♥ Getting to check the first date off the list: getting massages + eating tacos

♥ Going to a workshop where I learned how to embrace, rather than reject my body symptoms. I learned that Slug is my unlikely protector animal, and that being Serene (calm, composed, collected) 100% of the time is unrealistic, and too much of that is when Mr. Inferno (anger, passion, redness) comes out

♥ Kicking ass at school. I mean, I have a hunchback as a result of living permanently in front of my computer, but in March, I kicked. Serious. Ass.

♥ Friends and family that were so understanding that I had very little time to be social. Miss you.

♥ Spring arriving. It is the most peaceful season. Hope is in every bud, every petal, every bee.

On Friendships in your 30's//

During these last few months of not talking to you, I made new friends. Good friends.

!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

This may not be paparazzi worthy to anyone else, but I feel like I haven't made new, good friends in years. Years! I keep trying to tell people about this amazing feat, but they just look at me like I'm cray.

But I assure you, friendship in this stage of life is different than in other ones: everyone usually already has their nuclear circle, are coupled up and therefore occupied, and generally caught up in responsibilities of the Adulting world. Honestly, making friends at this life stage sometimes feels like courtship to me. People are busy. You can get rejected! It's not like the halcyon days of youth when just being in the same homeroom or Intro to Psych class can land you a bestie.

Also. I'm an introvert and better at talking to children than adults. So there's that.

The point is: I made friends in my program, they get me and I get them, and I think I'm going to keep them around.

Yay!

Current fantasy occupation//

Florist.

Current wardrobe thoughts//

Undergarments costs too much money.

I've been wearing skinny jeans for a decade.

I wish it was socially acceptable to wear head to toe denim, Monday thru Sunday.

Upcoming//

I recount how Portland felt like an oasis, and try to catch up with my travelogues from Europe. I make more of an intention to write to you, as it always helps to calm me.

I try to soak up every morsel of time I get with my real flesh and blood friends and family, before I dive back into the whirlwind of summer semester.

I bike, and feel the sun on tanned limbs.

How have you been, these months of my absence? Have you been taking care of your baby heart? I hope so. You deserve so much good.

With all my love,

Your pen pal

a little film (the south of france)

2016-02-18T21:29:00.003-08:00

bonjour,

c'est moi.

(that's a little francais Adele for you.)

Euromoon travel posts had to fall by the wayside for a while because of school, but I've been putting in ten minutes here and there of my Creativity Time for this sweet, little video. (We will talk about CT later, k.)

FRANCE. There's nothing else to say. When I watch this film, I get a big, dopey grin on my face. I wish I had multiple lifetimes, so that one of them could have been spent living in some perfectly imperfect French village, where baguettes and butter are God.

Will disclose more about our itinerary in the coming travelogue, but just know that if you rent a car and eat peaches and little goat cheeses every day, your life will be better.

Watch! Some goofball does an elaborate dance at the end in a modern/architectural vineyard.

b + j in: south of france from Joann Liu on Vimeo.

Song: Ingrid Michaelson's "You and I"

(The rest of our Europe films are linked below if you click on the tiny tag that says "little film")

Of late: January Musings

2016-02-07T23:05:00.000-08:00

1/ Sometimes OKAY, sometimes not 2/ Hollyburn and cross-countries again X X

3/ Brisket benny brunch with Sister 4/ Following my anxiety remedy: go outside!

5/ From where I'm standing, Pt. Roberts edition 6/ New hobby

7/ Learning to use a curling iron 8/ Blood pressure lowers, jest looking at this

Of late...

January was// that sound you hear in the movies when the fast car squeals to a complete, utter stop.

screeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee

eeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee

chhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh

Meaning: all the Stuff, the speeding, the stress of the past few months caught up to me, and I ran out of wiggle room.

I hit my crash-test-dummy wall.

Despite how resilient you are, I am, no one can do a zillion things at once, and still expect to do any of them brilliantly.

All the peace that the few days in Saturna provided seemed to disappear on the realization that Back to School + Work Monday (Monday, which signifies Adulting, anxiety, the yanking of total freedom) was at hand.

And thus, began a month of little, little sleep.

Some panic.

Much discomfort.

Out sick from a cold for a week.

Stepped in dog doo doo on my way to work.

That kind of trajectory, you know?

At exactly the halfway point of the month, exhausted and sad, I took a walk with myself and along the way, closed my eyes.

Me: Hey body?

Body: Yes?

Me: What do you need from us?

Body: Well. (a breath) It would be so, so, so nice if we just... didn't work for a while. Just concentrated on school. Is that okay?

Me: (Gulp).

Shall we segue?

Body// went on strike, in the most loving way possible.

It's always frustrating when she does that. At least at first.

You, who have been with me a long while know the details, how it's uncomfortable, how it impacts my esteem and general joyfulness.

I clench. I ask: Why? Why me? Why are you doing this to me?

But then I settle down. I know why. I know why by now.

Despite my attempt to heed her call from last month, I still was moving too quickly with all my to-do lists giving me paper cuts.

Soooooooooo, she put me in time out. Forced hibernation.

I did not like this--

(UGH I CAN DO IT ALL)

-- but I can't.

So I stopped.

What Did You Love?//

♥ Darcy at Poke Acupuncture. She's been on my healing team for the past five years. I go see her when I'm particularly sideways. She lets me cry and sometimes tears up with me and makes me feel brave and true.

♥ Walking along the beach, below the bluffs of Point Roberts, in the company of my favourite person. So many shiny stones. Seeing ocean everywhere, and only a fistful of people, sparsely spread out. It is expansive to see more nature around you than human bodies, sometimes. Going to dirty ol' White Spot and getting a clubhouse afterwards.

♥ Ron Swanson + Tom Haverford + Leslie Knope and all my friends of Parks & Recreation.

♥ Deeper talks, longer walks. Reaching out to those who "get it", will let me be.

♥ My parents, for always offering to take good care of me.

♥ Plant therapy with sister

♥ Picking up calligraphy, and buying myself my first sketch book.

♥ Admiring my husband, who is such a committed and loving teacher, for kicking ass at his new gig. Rest assured, we are both tired and bleary-eyed, and have our hands full-- but I sure do get a kick out of witnessing how he is living up to the memory of his momma, who I hear had a fierce, beautiful teacher heart just like he has.

On Productivity//

This month, it was really hard to accept the notion that I wasn't going to be able to work as much as I did last semester. I took on three courses this term-- all of which are heavy duty for the brain and heart, and there was just no way I was going to be able to continue working 2-3 days a week.

On paper, it was easy to spit that out. But in practice... so, so hard. I felt an immense sense of guilt or self-criticism for not being able to 'pull my weight' as a breadwinner. I felt like I had disappointed an unnamed and unspecified "someone"; because certainly, B was in full support of me concentrating on my studies, and this impacts literally no one else. So, this ancient voice, this inner Boss, speaking with incredulity: "Oh come on. You can at least work two days a week."

That's all me.

Well-- culture and DNA and society, amalgamated together within me, in a You Should! state of pointing fingers.

Isn't it fucked? Why do we all get trapped in this pattern? As children, didn't we have the wisdom of knowing that being busy and earning money isn't and can't be the most important thing?

I don't want to live that way. Should-ing yourself is a very messy business.

I may need many reminders, but somewhere in here I know that I am working the hardest I can with what I've got, and if I work less for a while, life will go on.

We all deserve to treat ourselves like our own best friends, and say with tenderness: you did enough for today. The world doesn't need your over-worked, overwhelmed work ethic. It wants your big, big heart that has room in it for smiling and crying and caring and noticing.

Go lie down.

Words that Resonate//

I read a lot. Sometimes I share books I've loved here.

But just as often, little turns of phrases, or whole paragraphs from articles, or tiny poems will leap out at me. This month:

With That Moon Language

-Hafiz

Admit something: Everyone you see, you say to them, "Love me."

Of course you do not do this out loud, otherwise someone would call the cops.

Still though, think about this, this great pull in us to connect. Why not become the one who lives with a full moon in each eye that is always saying, with that sweet moon language, What every other eye in this world is dying to hear?

Upcoming//

I step into my vulnerability. I dare myself to stay where I am uncomfortable emotionally, instead of turning off the feelings.

I love myself as if I were a baby, a tiny little girl who deserves all the care any of us deserve.

If any of this tugged at that smaller being within you, the one who has been asking for you to slow down, I say: you are enough, my friend, just as you are. We think you are the sky and the stars.

With all my love,

Your pen pal

2015 in Pictures

2016-01-23T18:25:00.001-08:00

This will be a weird reflection for me because Nikki is no longer by my side.

First self-portrait of Nikki and her Mama, 2009

She was ten years old, and had stopped responding half of the time. I sadly made the decision last winter that she had given us all the beautiful photographs she could muster, and was ready to rest. It was like saying goodbye to a faithful pet, in the sense that only you and other people who love their animals and fur babies like a daughter or son could understand-- yes I know she was just a Thing, but she was like my metal baby.

She who was with me when I got in a blue truck to drive up to the Yukon for the very first time, with a man that was to become my husband

She who was with me when I flew to London with my best friend to teach feral students and explore so many countries

She who has been your eyes and guide through the birth of this blog, from the first post four years ago, to all the sun-drenched days and dark nights of our time in the North after that

In a fitting way, Nikki's last adventure with us was being there to capture our bittersweet departure from Haines Junction, as we road tripped our way to our next home in Vancouver, towing a dusty U-Haul all the while. Like maybe leaving the Yukon was her last able breath, and it was time to stop.

For faithfully documenting the beginning of These Northern Times to the end, and for always reminding me about what is the sweetest in life, we salute you Nikki.

--------------------------

Feeling forlorn, I almost didn't do a '2015 in Pictures'. None of my pictures from last year had her at the helm.

But, I rallied because looking back at my year is an ancient ritual for me. Maybe it doesn't much matter whether a photo is taken with a DSLR or an iPhone. Maybe what is central is that it tells a story of where you've been, to hint at where you're going next.

So.

With that in mind, I give you our year--

(which, to be sure, was a mixture of light and dark and gravity and levity as always. One thing I do know, is that our roots in BC and Vancouver grew with each passing month. We feel strong here now. My heart is back home with me.)

Enjoy the review!

--------------------------------
Read more »

Of late: December Musings

2016-01-13T15:04:00.001-08:00

1/ Winter windshield art, early morning 2/ Snake Plant Christmas Tree

3/ Unicorn Twin comes to visit 4/ Precious additions to the collection

5/ Iona Beach walk at sunset 6/ Hollyburn Mt. on a bluebird day, cross country skiing

7/ I outdid myself! 8/ Self-portrait of artist

Of late...

December was// so much.

Much as in love

Much as in fun

Much as in hectic

Much as in overwhelming

(What is neat, as I get to know myself better, is that you don't have to feel this or that. Usually, it's this and that, and both are true true true.)

Looking at my calendar for December, every day was scribbled with something. Thank goodness my last grad school class ended on the 3rd, but man-- even with a month of UBC-free evenings, we were like hummingbirds flitting about towards our sugar water. When December hits, I am always like this. The excitement of the hunt for the perfect Christmas present, the final push of school/professional obligations (three huge papers, for three different classes), the friends and family I don't get to see when I'm cooped up with life. I go twice the speed in Dec.

Sometimes, I forget to just sit down for a while. That's all my heart needs really-- a chance to make a butt- indent on the teal couch, before hurtling back out towards the revolving front door of parties and brunches.

In last month's pen pal letter, I exclaimed that December is my favourite time of the year, and in so many ways that is true. My compassion for others, especially those outside my specific frame of experience, gets wider; my thoughts get soft. There is that seasonal amnesia I get though, where I always forget that the weeks leading up to Christmas, and the week after can put me flat on my back.

Just watch. Next year, I'll shout from some rooftop in November that I can't WAIT for December to come, and you will have to pull me down from my rainbow ledge and say, "That is very nice and good, but please do absolutely nothing from Dec. 19th to 22nd in order to prepare your selective extroversion tank. Thank you."

What Did You Love?//

♥ The satisfying feeling of making things with my hands. The meditative nature of using watercolors in a sparsely lit room, with Christmas carols on repeat.

♥ Supporting local companies and makers for 90% of the presents we gifted this year.

♥ Cold walks in Stanley Park with a far flung friend, where you see the sun set and glimpses of each other's heart.

♥ Getting to tuck my nephew-in-law back into bed, after he snuck his little bum down the stairs after Christmas dinner, and getting a snuggle and kiss.

♥ Picking from my parents art collection of the paintings and prints they made when they were my age, and taping it to my walls. History.

♥ Family assembled from all over, for a brief collision of chaos and conversation and food.

♥ Having my husband's toe back!!!!!!!!!!!!! Which meant resuming our adventures out in the cold winter air, with long walks on Iona Beach.

♥ Making the spontaneous and could-have-been-way-too-much-but-everything-fell-into-place decision of waking up early on the 31st to go cross country skiing for the first time in forEVER, and then throwing clothes and food and essentials in bags and hopping on a late ferry to Saturna that same evening, so we could ring in the new year with just us and quiet. (Gratitude to T+K for helping to make that happen). Is there anything better than rugs and records and candles and a roaring fire and books?

Body// is sending her messages louder. She knows that I am so much Brain these days--I live there, I stand at my command centre all day long, making analyses and prognoses and synthesizing new information. She is patient, has tried to be patient, but knows that when I'm in my Brain, it's so much harder for me to listen.

So.

She prods a bit more this month. She changes color and shape and form. She doesn't make things easy; not because she doesn't love me, but precisely because she does.

She has run the distance with me from the start of school to now, giving me a vessel and fast legs for all of the places I have to be. But she is saying now: Enough. I am speaking.

I'm trying to heed her call.

On Finishing a Semester// Time to process some things.

I haven't had an easy time of it. My A+ student kind of took over. I was excited. I had good intentions. But it is not so very possible to be the Best Student, Best Teacher, Best Wife, Best Friend, Best Daughter, Best Cook, Best Domestic Goddess, Best Writer/Creative Person all at the same time.

I... sort of thought I could.

And even for some weeks this semester, I was rocking all those things.

It's not very sustainable though, as you can imagine. You can't be all those things and still be your Best Self to your verymostimportant person. Namely, you. Me.

So I'm reflecting, and trying to be gentle with this knowledge (instead of berating, instead of DUH you dummy) and trying to accept that it has been in my pattern to try and control all my outcomes, and for the outcomes to be perfect and impressive.

Undoing a lifetime of a a way of being is very tricky stuff. I mean, you possibly don't have to unravel all of it. There is a reason why it existed in the first place, and even probably served you for a time.

So I acknowledge that I've been pushing myself to be my very best, my most thorough self, and feeling let down by myself when it proved to be too much. I felt resentful that I was overwhelmed. I compared myself to others that I know, thinking, but she and he and they do all this AND more! What's wrong with me that I can't?

With some heart in my throat, as I try to climb down the ladder that leads out of my brain... I know this much is true:

I can't ever know why some things work for others, but not for me. I don't know all the facts of why others seemingly can do so much, with so much ease, and I can falter if faced with having to write a paper while there's no more clean underwear in the house.

All I can be certain of, is that in order to live with generous friendship to myself, I must repeat often "Good for you. Not for me."

Good for you. Not for me.

A Recipe//

Here's something I kicked ass at this month: I made a really, really good meal.

So good, I think you should recreate it immediately.

It's the bottom left picture at the top, and while that is a fuzzy, questionable photo, know that our mouths were VERY EXCITED.

I seared a couple duck breasts, seasoned them with S+P and Chinese All Spice, then stuck them in the oven for another 5-8 minutes to finish them off. Then they rested and were eventually sliced.

I combined tamari and a bit of rice vinegar and honey, brought it to a slight boil until it thickened, stirring all the while.

This went on top of buckwheat soba noodles, bok choy, red pepper, green onion. Sesame oil to finish it off.

We don't often give ourselves enough pats on the back in this life, so excuse me while I shout:

IT WAS AMAZING.

IN OTHER WORDS, I AM AMAZING.

Upcoming//

I will tell you how Semester Two fared differently. I will tell you how I tried, am trying, will continue to try my best to honor my own self first, and how having some categories of my life become messy or neglected can be okay. This is the hope. Send me luck.

2016. Whoa, man. Another year to be in it with you!

With all my love,

Your pen pal

travelogue: venice, we go

2015-12-30T13:58:00.001-08:00

Stop # 4 of euromoon: Venice, Italy

Somehow, it feels like cheating to put up a post for a trip you did not like.

So many people love it! We met a woman on this trip that has summer-long vacations in Venice every year.

Every. Year.

We didn't last 48 hours before we were imploding and exploding in a furnace of sweat and rage.

Everything smelled like pee.

Very, very hot pee.

(I should mention that I can't handle extreme heat)

(I sort of melt like a wicked witch. Very dramatic and yowly.)

Who knows, maybe this post will be a nice change of pace! You're so used to my over-the-top fawning at all the places we go to; all these adjectives involving magic and light and impossible beauty.

Why not a post about pee instead.

Before I get too cynical, I must admit that looking at these photos we took, makes me second guess myself.

I mean, Venice is a city FLOATING ON WATER (this may not be the exact, er, engineering term for it.) That's pretty neat. The architecture is stunning, given the modern landscapes we hail from. And even in spite of the fact that I am not the biggest fan of Marble Statue Things, I stared at some of these stony faces and stony fingers and stony lions for a long time.

This was my second time in Venice, and Bry's first. I had gone a decade or so prior, when my family and I took a five week trip around Italy. I remember being fond of Venice. This may have been due to reasons such as:

air conditioning
staying in a super ritzy hotel for free (parent-journalist connections)
being well fed
pleasantly mild weather

That is my jaunty 21-year-old self in Italy in 2005. She seems very smug to me. Also, she is not sweating.

On the other hand, 31-year old-Joann was full of sweats as Venice experienced a heat wave at 35C for the two nights we were there. Staying in the city centre is expensive, and we had opted for a room in our host's house that was up four flights of (very steep) stairs. Hot air rises. Suffice to say the nights were not much better than the scorching days, and we lay in bed with the pitiful desk fan trained on our bodies, while feeling like we were being slowly prepared in a sous-vide cooking contraption. Leaving the cool mountains of Cortina felt a bit like a mistake.

After one night of this, I decided that we would go to the Peggy Guggenheim museum the next day--yes for the incredible art collection she amassed, which I was impressed with on my previous journey here, but moreover, for the air conditioning.

I love you, AC.

The museum was solid, just like I remember. It's worth the admission fee even without the promise of cool, artificial air. We spent the rest of our last day wandering around Peggy's collection of Dali's and Picassos, before heading off for dinner (where we got swindled to pay $90 CDN for a baked sea bass, AKA our new inside-joke / warning of staying away from "basshole" situations where we may get charged an arm and a leg for no reason. Usage in sentence: "Should we add gravel insurance protection to this rental?" "No, we're being basshole-d.")

I'm not used to being so candidly negative about any city, so after this paragraph I am going to use an internet gadget that will give you amnesia as your look at the rest of our photos. You deserve to look at these canals with wonder.

Imagine it when it was old and ancient, with no threat of gelato-frenzied tourists. Get lost in the labyrinth of passages that seemingly make no sense.

Go walk around a city where water is your sidewalk.

Just make sure you bring nose plugs if you go in the July/August heat! Kekekekekeke.

Of late: November Musings

2015-12-13T12:45:00.000-08:00

1/ Sunny walks in Port Moody 2/ Snow dappled mountains at Joffre Lakes

3/ Sablefish on date night with momma 4/ Ninja Turtle!

5/ My favourite tree 6/ I stare at these during all the stress of life

7/ A week later, toe broken :( 8/ The wise fox at Savio Volpe

Of late...( Late again. Let's just say these may be late for the next two years. )

November was// a Richter scale 7.

It was up

and down

and zig zags

and anything but linear.

November is historically a pretty tough month for many people in my life: it gets so dark out, you're fumbling out the door when the sky is still pitch blue for work, and then slumping back home under that same but different dark ceiling. Not to say that nothing good happens in November (so much did!), but it is something to take notice of, the way that the outside world influences our present biology.

You're not crazy. It's just dark. And cold. Your body responds.

I really try to resist saying "so busy" when someone asks me "How are you?", but sometimes that is just the wide open truth. My month continued on from October, and it was full of end of term Things. Due dates. Deadlines. 1" margins, or two marks taken off. School Joann is a slightly different creature than the usual one you see here. Same soul, different intensity.

Take me to the Goods!// Okay. Yes. Remind yourself of what was gold, ponyboy, or you do forget.

♥ The newest member of our family: Ninja Turtle, the forest green Subaru. We love him. This means freedom! This means the ability to venture out into wide open spaces!

♥ Sunday adventures: leaving the city for nature, three weeks in a row. Getting out of my head, and out from behind my desk, and ignoring my assignments in favor of sanity. Discovering the peace of snow again on the Joffre Lakes trail, and having birds land on our heads and hands.

♥ Binge watching Master of None and seeing diversity on screen

♥ Kisses from nephews-in law

♥ Witnessing the play Nirbhaya, based on the incident of the gang rape in India. A reminder that keeping silent serves no one. Powerful, chilling stuff. The most intense play I've ever seen.

♥ The loveliest date with Husb at the newly opened trattoria, Osteria Savio Volpe: Tavern of the Wise Fox. A stone's throw from our house. A killer farro/squash/parmesan salad.

♥ Finishing my last class of the term on the last day of the month. PHEW.

Body// is elastic. Did you know, it walks alongside you when you're struggling, and then again when you soar? It listens and responds. It can bounce back, and it does. This is something I didn't know for a long time, and not knowing would send me to the land of Doubt. I'm so glad that I know to say to myself now: Everything passes.

Recipe this month: when feeling overwhelmed, sneak out for air as often as you can. Even in a full day of teaching, you can find time for some cold against your face.

On juju// On the way back from Pemberton and our wonderful day, we hit a set back. Somewhere along that black stretch of highway home, B's wallet and phone had gone missing. The detour to go back and find it was windy, and dark. A bit harrowing. I discovered driving at night in a speeding bullet with a bend called Suicide Hill is... not my favourite. The phone was found smashed on the side of the road, the wallet lost.

A week later, B broke his toe. This is very not good. I know, you think: that's like... the smallest thing on your whole body you can break. Is it that bad? And yet, you can't walk with a broken toe. And if you can't walk, that means your hands are preoccupied with crutches. And if that's the case, then: mobility. Autonomy. Snowboarding. Sunday adventures. Asking for help for little things.

It's not about the break; it's about the loss that comes after it. 6 weeks of being off your feet seems like a long time when the snow reports are epic. So.

Please send good juju, care of a pigeon or just a beam of healing vibes, to Bryan Green's right pinky toe. Thank you.

Wearing// Black. Sometimes all black, head to toe. Blue. Brown. I'm not gravitating towards colour as much as I used to. A product of living in East Van, of feeling more quiet lately, I don't know. It possibly means nothing at all. What is new to report is that I continue to buy very little in the way of clothes, which would surprise two years ago Joann very much. I buy doughnuts instead.

Best bites of the month//

Deli sandwiches from La Grotta del Fromaggio on the Drive, drizzled with oil and balsamic vinegar. Get them to pack them up, grab some Italian pastries from next door, and go for a hike.

The meatballs at Savio Volpe.

The miso sablefish at glowball.

I usually get the vegetarian burrito at Sal y Limon, but one time this month, I had the chorizo con queso con huevo burrito (which B usually gets) and it was stars in my eyes.

Erin Ireland's coconut lemon poppyseed loaf. I order it through SPUD.

Upcoming//

MY FAVOURITE TIME OF THE YEAR! Let me find an almond milk egg nog! Let there be white twinkly lights! Let me hold babies and hug friends and eat everything and sleep past 7am! Let me skype all those people that matter. Let me do nothing at all, and possibly love it.

One month in 2015 to go. Have you chosen to learn the lessons of this year yet?

With all my love,

Your pen pal