Erin's Journals

Just a thought… Happiness is not out there, it’s in you. [attributed variously to Don Miguel Ruiz, and others]

Ah, the famous 4-20. A day to spark up for those who even note it anymore; with pot dispensaries as ubiquitous as coffee shops in Canada, it’s hardly a thing, I would guess. But what do I know? I never enjoyed the stuff. Part of it is the harshness on my throat (which still has not fully recovered from a now month-long cold), but the other is that I just don’t like how it makes me feel: thirsty, lethargic, paranoid and like I have a big lump in my throat.

I think I’m that rare person who can’t use CBD to help sleep, too. At our age, and especially with menopause messing with people’s REMs and rest, many are turning to gummies to help in that area – goodness knows I have a lot of friends who do just that. But I must be some kind of weird unicorn: it makes me think too much and I can’t shut down enough to sleep. Me overthinking? Imagine that!

Here in our new little island home, the sweet cabin in the woods where deer wander by the windows and a fifteen-minute walk affords possible views of whales, sleep comes easily. No sounds of traffic or trucks backing up nearby, only the odd far-off owl or morning woodpecker. Sounds heavenly, right?

So why did I try so hard to mess it up last week?

During our visit to new neighbours, I soaked in their panorama of ocean views: ferries meandering by, the promise of eagles and possible sea lions, and a sense of wonder. Not long after we had that lovely time, my addict brain started poking at me, whispering more, more, more!

So what did I do? My wandering heart let my fingers do the pecking and, while Rob slept innocently beside me, I looked at real estate listings here on the island. My hope was to find a house that replicated the views we’d seen that afternoon, so that we, too, could take in the wonders of the ocean (never mind that this is our condo view in Sidney).

I found a house that was within what I thought was our possible price range, and reached out to the realtor who’d connected us with our Wedgie, asking her if they’d come down in price, what was wrong with it, and so on. (The answers: somewhat, and nothing.)

But the next day when I “jokingly” told Rob about my search, he was quiet. At first he said he’d look at the listing and then just changed his mind, reminding me that he’d worked so hard during my winter away to: a) move us in here, and b) make it feel like a home in which I could finally feel happy. At peace.

And he did. I do! But again, that addict’s brain. Two days later, I shut down the idea, and apologized to him. I likened it to me coming home from Mexico and, after all he’d done, telling him that I’d found a new man, or novio if you will. I realized the depth of my inconsideration and apologized wholeheartedly.

Yesterday we took a long walk – much farther than Rob would usually accompany me on – and found ourselves at a marina about 15 minutes from Wedgie. We explored the area and, of course, looked for those elusive whales. One day, one day….

On the way home, Rob picked up a used weed whacker that someone was giving away. It will be put to good use at our cabin, especially since when we left our big house last year, we gave away any outdoor equipment we had because we were condo bound.

The walk was good for our souls and just further solidified the knowledge that as much as a cliffside house would be a bigger adventure with wider vistas than what we now have, I need to get comfortable and find peace in where I am. It may be genetic, having grown up in a family of serial movers (and some of us still are), and part of it is searching for true happiness when a lot of our hearts simply disappeared with Lauren’s death.

My analogous infidelity was a reminder to stop and be present. To be grateful for the immense kindness and love of my long-suffering partner. And to ask myself today, and every day: What was I smoking?

Happy 4-20. Or whatever day this is for you. For me, it’s another day in a perfect life – except for, as we always say, that one thing.

Just a thought… All things are connected like the blood that unites us. We do not weave the web of life, we are merely a strand in it. Whatever we do to the web, we do to ourselves. [Chief Seattle]

Well, I hope you had a restful and fulfilling weekend; I know we did.

Today we’ll be heading home from our other place, our slice – Wedgie – of heaven on tiny Pender Island. Part of the joy of discovering a new place is not only meeting its people and our neighbours (more on that in a moment) but in finding interesting sights. On a couple of occasions in the past few days, I’ve passed a spot near that bench I shared with you last Monday. Here’s the sign that marks what I saw.

The whole idea is that if you don’t have access to a vehicle and aren’t up to the many hills on Pender on a bike, you stand near the sign and hope that someone stops to give you a ride. With Rob in Sidney for part of last week, and not yet knowing anyone here (except our realtor), I wondered if I would ever make use of the neighbourly service, of which there are as many as 29 on our island. Here’s more about it from Condé Nast Traveler:

The Car Stop system is a legal and encouraged form of hitchhiking acting as the primary public transit alternative to bringing a car or taking a taxi. It’s based on community trust and is considered safe although it is voluntary, meaning rides are not guaranteed particularly during off-peak times.

You wait at a designated sign and put out your thumb. Would you? Would I? After thinking about it for a few days, I have come up with an answer. Yes. Let’s say Rob’s back home in Sidney for hockey or whatever and I want to pick up some milk. As long as I wasn’t crunched for time, I just might do it.

Now, my problem might be if I caught a ride back from, say, the only large grocery store on the island, would I be able to tell someone where I needed to go? There are a few roads with the same name as the one we’re on; I might have to put my Google Maps to work to make sure I was headed in the right direction.

You might say, “But I watch Dateline. Why would you get in a car with a stranger?” and that’s a good point. Yes, we use rides like Uber or taxis, but there’s usually a digital trail as to whom we were with and when. But when we’re talking crime on this island, there’s basically one way in and one way out and that’s by ferry. Add to that the fact that with between two and three thousand residents (roughly doubled in summer months), the crime rate is extremely low. Everyone tends to know everyone else, and anonymity is not a thing.

We found that out firsthand just yesterday: while out walking the girls, Rob and I met a couple also walking a dog. We introduced ourselves and when they were surprised there was even a house in the woods where we are (yes, it’s that secluded), we invited them up the driveway to see the place from outside. A chat led to an offer to join them for happy hour at their house later in the day, which we did.

In meeting Mark and Lesley, we learned that we had the same realtor in common (they bought last summer). There are several realtors, so it’s a little more unusual than you might think. Just a day earlier, a friendly fellow who lives near us was out doing yard work and asked the dogs’ names. We sat as he rested, and chatted for about half an hour during which time he gave me a bit of the tea on the folks who live on the road. Mark and Lesley drove by and were waving at neighbour John, so I knew they were friendly and he told me they were pretty great. Actually meeting them the next day seemed to be wonderful luck.

And it was. We stayed at their house and talked ’til they invited us for dinner (we had to get home for ours as it happened), and we’ve made a date to go to a pub together this Friday to hear our realtor sing with her band!

So there we have it. A few chance encounters (thanks both times to the dogs, just as it was when I met a couple of terrific women in Puerto Vallarta in a neighbourhood in which I knew no one), some much-needed socializing, and now friendships in the making.

I was beginning to wonder if I would keep the promise I made to myself in the winter to make an effort and connect with more people. But it’s happening. Just like the countless daffodils and narcissus showing their sunny faces here and there amidst the woods and long grasses, I’m popping my head up to see who’s around. Knowing a few folks on our road could come in handy if that ride is ever needed, but a smile – and who knows, maybe even a thumb – are coming in handy as we settle in.

Have a good week as we make our way through April, Elbows Up as always and hoping for good things as Canada continues to steer herself in the right direction at three by-election polls today. Just as Jeremy Hansen made us proud this month, Hungary gave us hope on the weekend, as did the Raptors, who clinched a playoff spot.

Like friendly neighbours, there’s good news around if we just look for it.

Just a thought… Nature, time, and patience are the three great physicians. [Chinese Proverb]

A very happy and peaceful Easter Monday to you and thank you for coming by.

I’m home and, unbelievably, I’m still sick, as whatever this is has inexplicably moved into my joints. Apparently it’s a thing. My voice is still raspy after the cold that hit me nearly three weeks ago (!) and won’t leave, as you’ll hear on this Thursday’s Ep 171 at gracefullyandfrankly.com.

Thankfully, there’s a lot of rest in store for me this week as Rob heads back to the “big island” (as we call Vancouver Island) for appointments and meetings. Rob picked me up from Victoria International Airport on Thursday (after I enjoyed the company of Olympic rower Silken Laumann for the flight – details in Episode 171). Fifteen minutes after I got my one suitcase, Rob, Dottie and I we were in the car line for the 45-minute ferry ride to Pender Island.

The visit to Ontario was lovely, including my road trip with Mike Cooper. Once in Ottawa, I had some quality time with Colin and Jane, who are both anxiously awaiting the start of their respective baseball seasons. Mom and Dad will be co-coaching this year, so the whole family has found their groove, their people and their joy. It makes Rob and me happy to know that, as much as we miss them.

Some have asked me on Facebook about the cabin that we bought. Why might be a good question, in that we just moved from a large house to a single-level condo on the ocean in Sidney, a bucolic but bustling little town about 25 minutes’ drive from the provincial capital of Victoria. The answer is many-layered, but “escape” is one of my middle names.

Maybe grief makes me look to fill a hole (as someone with addictive tendencies does), but when we found ourselves without family nearby and a yearning for small, wooded spaces – a love we rediscovered on our Alberta road trip last year – island cabins beckoned. And so we found one. Here’s where it is.

At a cozy 700 sq ft in size, we have named it “Wedgie” after the house we had on Hedge Road in Jackson’s Point, Ontario that we called “Hedgie.” Wedgie is literally a cheesy name, perhaps reminiscent of underwear being pulled too far up, but since this place is also a tight squeeze, it’s only perfect.

With a compact wood stove, modern appliances and conveniences, plus lots of windows and natural wood, the cabin – not yet 20 years old – is perfect for us. We have an open loft bedroom, but for the rare visitor there’s a Murphy bed hidden in a cabinet on the main floor.

First thing Rob did upon taking possession during my winter absence was arrange to have a tiny washroom put in on the upper floor. At our age, getting downstairs when nature screams at 2 am is not an attractive prospect. So YAY! He (and our friend, former CHFI producer Chris Shapcotte) did an incredible job of moving us in and making it perfect for my arrival.

The absolute best part about Wedgie is we are literally surrounded by nature. Yesterday I awoke to three deer sashaying across the yard in front of our window.

In fact, the view from my spot in bed shows one squatting (it’s in the top of the lower centre pane).

We can see glimpses of ocean through the trees, and the only sound we hear has been the occasional woodpecker or other bird on the myriad boughs surrounding us. Rob has turned an old outhouse on the property into his workshop (don’t ask me how, or what it’ll look like, ‘cause I’m NOT going in!) and this is a place of peace, of healing and of enormous gratitude.

I even found a bench to sit on during my walks with the dogs, where I can be with Lauren.

Could anyone ask for more? Enjoy this week and I’ll talk to you Thursday. And thank you for coming along, as always.

Just a thought… The most important discovery true friends make is that they can grow separately without growing apart. [Elisabeth Foley]

Oh my gosh, what a weekend!

It almost killed me to keep it a secret (especially from you here as well as on Facebook, Threads and Insta) but on Saturday night in Ajax, Ontario, a very special man in my life was being celebrated and I was invited to be a part of it.

Ian “The General” MacArthur, producer, mainstay, backbone (and often funnybone) of the CHFI Morning Show for 30 years, hit a milestone, turning 60 years old. Now, there are about three people in this world for whom I’d get on a plane and fly halfway across Canada when I still was sounding like a raspy saw, but Ian is definitely one of them. Here’s how the weekend surprise unfolded.

Ian’s wife Anita sent out an email saying she was planning a small dinner surprise for him at The Keg in Ajax; if I was coming for Easter with the kids, could I join? Well, Rob and I had no plans to come east yet, having just returned from Mexico, but I couldn’t pass up a chance to hug Ian in person and reconnect with longtime radio buddies.

Even Gord Rennie, who’s now operations manager and morning show producer at Talk 640, came and I was reunited with The Wise Guys once more.

A lovely dinner was followed by a party back at the MacArthurs’ where we had cake, lots of great conversation with friends (including former CHFI producer Greg MacDonald, standing between Ian and Gord in the photo above) and family, and got caught up on months and, in many cases, years. I did a video with Mike that I’ll post when I get some time, but today I’m in OTTAWA visiting with our grandkids Colin and Jane and their parents!

Yes, a perfect weekend was shared with the best of friends: from Saturday’s party to Mike driving me to Phil and Brooke’s home near Ottawa yesterday. And here I’ll be until before sunrise on Thursday when my plane takes me home.

Thanks for coming along and, for now, I’d better rest this raspy throat of mine.

Just a thought… If all difficulties were known at the outset of a journey, many of us would not begin at all. [Dan Rather]

As we prepare for a big day tomorrow on our hearts, Lauren’s 35^th birthday (and yes, Dottie’s 4^th), I’ll look back with sunny memories on this week that was – the highs, the hiccups and the WTF moments. Buckle in – it’s a good one.

We left our rental home and got to Puerto Vallarta airport in plenty of time to check in. What we didn’t anticipate was an hour’s wait in a long Disney-worthy lineup (without the zigzag trickery they use) to check us, our two bags and two dogs in for the flight home. It was entirely our fault for not even considering March Break when I booked our flights home last summer…and I lost count of the people who said, “just take carry on” on my FB page. REALLY? For four months? Yeah, no.

When we finally did get through, we thought we’d have time to organize our devices and chargers for the flight – but WestJet had other plans. I’ll get to that in a moment.

As we rode the escalator up to the departures level, I saw a table with some signs and two gentlemen sitting there.

Free measles shots? De verdad? They assured us that, yes, they were giving the shots, and it wasn’t just for Mexican citizens. Once Rob understood what I was going to do – sitting my butt down and rolling up my sleeve – he agreed he would too.

We had read that because of our ages and when we were first inoculated, we were already safe. But I’m not taking any chances. If anything, the anti-vax movement has made me get in line for any and every shot there is, just in case. Anyone can catch measles and I’ll be damned if I’ll pass it along to someone who’s vulnerable (i.e. an expectant mom). FYI, Rob and I had zero side effects: no swelling, itching, soreness or malaise. And we have the record of what we got and when we got it. So, YAY!

After putting our sleeves back down, we hustled to our gate, only to find (surprise!) another enormous lineup. This time, it was to catch a shuttle bus from the airport to our plane. And when we got to it – guess what? It wasn’t WestJet after all!

Yes, WJ owns SunWing, but some of our fellow travellers were worried they’d boarded the wrong plane. Lucky for us, this little fellow kept us well entertained during the flight and could not have been a better traveller!

We got a charge out of him, which was lucky because the seats on this 10-year-old plane (not old at all) had no power outlets.

Four and a half hours later, we landed in Victoria. But the adventures hadn’t ended.

You may recall that, back in November, we disembarked and were in the terminal before I realized my big, new sunhat was still in the overhead compartment of the plane. It had slid off our carry-on so Rob didn’t see it; he had to swim upstream into the plane and get it for me, delaying our departure from the airport.

Well this time, I wasn’t going to be careless. I dug into the seat pocket ahead of me looking for the case with my reading glasses, my hands brushing past what I thought were airline menus and safety cards. Got the glasses, pulled the dogs from their cozy spots under the seats ahead of us, and left the plane.

It wasn’t until after we finally retrieved our luggage, surely the last bags on Victoria’s carousel, that I reached down the side pocket of my leggings. Oh, no! I had one job the whole trip, and that was to protect the passports, and they were not there. I told Rob and he thought I was kidding. I wasn’t. I ran over to a yellow-vested employee who got on her handheld radio and called to the plane and gave our seat numbers. Sure enough, in just about two minutes, he was standing out on the tarmac waving to get in through the securely locked doors and holding up those precious documents.

As I said to the women helping me, “And this is me NOT drinking!” because, yes, I’ve left a laptop on a plane before (cocktails were involved) and the hat this last trip.

I can tell you it’s more the stress of travelling with two little dogs than anything else. But the nerves are calm and, as I type this, Rob and I are recovering in bed from a rotten cold he brought me from Canada. Anyone who noticed that couple (us) wearing masks on the plane? That wasn’t for us. It was for you – and you’re welcome.

More to tell you here next week – travel stories and a brand new homecoming at the cabin. But it’s Monday and your eyes are probably already worn out. So have a gentle week and we will too.