Monday 25 February 2013


What a beautiful full moon we had tonight! It made me think of a song by a group that my niece told me about.  They're called "Elephant Revival." 





As soon as I heard the song "Ring Around the Moon," I bought the CD on Amazon. Check this out:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=jd57MRcW-NQ


So, Lorenzo returned from Mayne Island on Sunday morning. You guys must be so sick of this blog by now... Anyway, he was rather spent and I'm beginning to expect a phone call one of these days from the cottage where he says, "I'm not coming home. I'm too tired." It's a very good thing that we're nearly finished because we've spent so much time apart that we're having difficulty communicating lately. I'll say something, he'll answer, and I haven't a clue what he's talking about. It's as though we need flow-charts and flash cards or something. We've started talking to each other in very slow careful language - as though we're conversing with learning-disabled toddlers. It's bad. But I know if we could spend a weekend together alone - away from these soul-sucking parasites we call teenagers - we would merge back into harmony. And for the record, we love our children dearly. We adore them. We just can't stand them right now.

Anyway. He laid the hardwood floor in our daughter's little bedroom. This room is tiny but it has a certain charm. It's just big enough for a twin bed, a small night table, and an upright cabinet for her clothes...





It's best feature is that it faces south, so she'll wake up to the sun shining on her beautiful face...





Lorenzo said he encountered the first wasp of the season. Mayne has an unusually large wasp population - one summer, we went for a walk in the evening and it sounded as if the entire island was vibrating; it was a low, resonant hum and it was a bit unnerving. We almost expected a giant swarm to suddenly emerge from every corner. Anyway, the wasp came into the room where he was working and did what wasps typically do: it dive-bombed his head. He swatted madly and managed to knock it unconscious. Poor little guy. But they really are a nuisance. Apparently you can buy fake wasp nests - you hang one on your property and they'll stay away as they're very territorial.

After our daughter's room was done, Lorenzo moved onto the bathroom. Every room is crooked which involves many cuts and a great deal of frustration...





He had to remove the toilet, and once he did he decided to buy a new one. I wanted to keep the original toilet but he didn't like it. What's not to like? It's a toilet....





After this, the console table I bought at the Sears Clearance Centre was hauled in from the truck. This was a really good bargain - I think it was two hundred dollars...




The dimensions were perfect, so I bought it to use as a sink vanity. Here's a before & after:





Teamed up with a $59 sink from Home Depot, I think it looks pretty terrific...




Here's a before and after:






A plumber on the island is going to meet Lorenzo at the cottage next Friday as he doesn't feel entirely comfortable hooking up the sink himself. He says there's some copper pipes coming out of the wall that need to be cut and he's worried about doing something wrong...

So that was the trip. Next weekend, he's hoping to have all the hardwood done. We have to buy stair nosing at Home Depot and a new hand rail, but the stairs themselves will be the same hardwood as the floors - we're not buying solid wood stair treads; too much hassle having to stain them, etc.

What else? He installed one of the light fixtures - these are really cheap outdoor lights but they have a cottagey-nautical feel to them. He says they're huge - if he were a couple of inches taller, he'd hit his head on it...









*     *     *     *     *

Meanwhile at home...

While Lorenzo was gone, I was here with the three teenagers. There was a dance at the high school, so I found myself driving three 14 year-old girls who were so drenched in body spray my eyes were watering. Prior to this, my son's friends showed up - they decided to walk to the dance. One of them had a backpack that he left on the front porch. It weighed about 60 pounds. I secretly lifted it just as Lorenzo was pulling out on his way to the cottage. He's waving to me and I'm standing there eye-balling this gigantic backpack that appears to be stuffed with bricks.

So I said to the lad, "What's in the bag?" He says, "Oh, just my stuff."  Stuff like twenty cans of beer. I said to my sons, "Don't think I'm stupid." They feigned innocence. What am I supposed to do - search the kid's backpack? Did I drink at 15? Yes, I did. Anyway, after the dance, my daughter said they were going to A's house to watch a movie. This girl lives about half a block from us. A few hours later, this girl's mother texts me - she thinks her daughter is at my house. Pack of liars, they are. They were at the park with a gang of kids.

I told this mother that I feel like I'm grounded. She says she feels the same way. We have to be here, like sentry guards. And they're having all the fun. I resented the fact that I couldn't be at my cottage helping my husband, but if I were to leave, I'm quite certain that a giant party would take place. By the time we have some real freedom we'll be senior citizens. They'll be at the cottage having a rip-roaring good time, putting dents in the walls, and Lorenzo & I will be hobbling about on canes. Shouting into each other's hearing aid.

And while he was gone, I worked very hard around here. And I don't mean to sound like a complainer - even though I am - but it kind of hurts my feelings when the work I do goes completely unacknowledged.  I made a giant pot of homemade soup, I made green smoothies, I baked, I washed all the floors on my hands and knees, did about ten loads of laundry, went grocery shopping, chauffeured kids around, walked the dog, vacuumed, cleaned, etc. But if I had a blog detailing all of this drudgery, no one would be remotely interested. But if I built a bookshelf, or nailed in some wainscoting, somehow the work would be elevated to some prestigious level. I'd be a hero! Look at her - she can build stuff!







I thought about this while I was tripping over jackets, backpacks, and damp towels and cleaning gunk out of the shower-door track with a q-tip. To the soundtrack of rap music coming up from the basement. I felt really ticked off but I'm over it now. My kids are just normal kids - they're full of spirit and hormones and despite it all, they're good human beings. They're kind, and that's important. Unfortunately, they're also bald-faced liars right now.


*     *     *     *     *

Next month, it will be spring. With spring comes bills. In March, we have to pay our utilities which is around a thousand dollars. April is Revenue Canada's big cash grab which is another huge chunk of change. In July, we have property taxes on both the house and the cottage. It's a crippling amount. Lorenzo & I had a big discussion about money tonight - we have accepted that buying this cottage was a lifestyle choice that entails a genuine financial sacrifice.  We discussed whether or not it was the right decision and both agreed that it was, which mitigates some of the sting of not having a lot of extra cash like we used to. 

And when you read that 85% of college graduates are living at home, it becomes pretty apparent that our kids won't be flying the nest any time soon. For this reason alone, I am almost deliriously grateful that we'll have a place from which to escape the noise and stress of living with three teenagers. I just wonder at what age they'll have to be, in order for us to feel comfortable leaving them...

I took a few books out of the library on estate planning. What I read really got my Irish up. Consider this: You scrape together a down payment to buy your house. You spend decades paying your mortgage (which is French for "pay til you die") and handing tens upon thousands of dollars to the bank in interest charges. You had to pay property purchase tax to buy it - and BC has the highest tax in all of Canada. A house which costs $750,000 (a veritable dump in Vancouver) will run you $13,000. The same home in Alberta? You'll be paying only $185. If you live in Nova Scotia or Nunavit, you're paying zero. Anyway, you work hard owning your home - it eats up the vast majority of money you earn which is taxed. Everything you buy, from food to clothes and everything in between - is taxed.





Now you die. Guess what? The government moves in and your estate will have to pay Capital Gains on 50% of the appreciation. So you bought your house for $150k, it sells for $850k, and the government demands the tax on about $300,000. Transferring the title to your children probably won't work because eventually they'll have homes of their own and won't be eligible for the Primary Residence Tax Exemption. At some point, the Capital Gains Tax will have to be paid.

There is, however, one way to stick it to the government. Because if you die with stuff, the government wants some of your stuff. If you die with nothing, they get nothing. Sell your stuff before you die, give your kids the cash, and tell the government to sod off. Because in Canada, there is no tax on cash gifts. I almost didn't believe this - it sounds too good to be true. But there you have it:


“Regarding gifting of assets, the basic premise is simple. If you don’t own the asset when you die, it is not included in the probate tax calculation. A gift of non-cash assets (ie, property) is deemed to be a ‘sale’ (at current market value) with a potential taxable profit in the eyes of CRA and fall under the attribution rules.”   In other words, capital gains tax.






So Lorenzo and I have decided that when we reach the age of say...65...we'll sell everything. Sell the house, sell the cottage, sell the business, sell the rabbit... Because by then, we'll have paid more money to the banks - in the form of interest payments - and the government (in income tax, property tax, corporate tax, etc.) than we've ever paid ourselves. We're not about to give them more. That's my anti-government rant for the evening...




              Tree Huggers - Galiano Island 2007



Thursday 14 February 2013




Way to go Obama...

"But for the sake of our children and our future, we must do more to combat climate change...it's true that no single event makes a trend. But the fact is, the 12 hottest years on record have all come in the last 15. Heat waves, droughts, wildfires, floods -- all are now more frequent and intense.

"We can choose to believe that Superstorm Sandy, and the most severe drought in decades, and the worst wildfires some states have ever seen were all just a freak coincidence. Or we can choose to believe in the overwhelming judgment of science -- and act before it's too late."


Monday 11 February 2013


Lorenzo limped through the door at about 10:30 last night. His back is killing him because when he put the piano on the dollies, one end of it slipped off.  He managed to catch it, which left him somewhat injured and mangled. The old steel casters on the piano destroyed the floor that it fell on, so he had to tear up about fourteen planks to get to the damaged pieces which was a huge pain in the neck. Things like this always happen. So that would be the bad news. The GOOD NEWS is that he finished the whole main floor! He began by prepping the floor, filling in gaps, screwing down areas that were squeaky, etc...









He bought a floor-nailer at Home Depot but when he opened the box, a crucial component was missing and he was freaking out. By some miracle, the good folks at Home Hardware happened to have one sitting in a back room that someone had returned. So they gave him the cartridge he needed so that he could continue with the job. He was very annoyed about this, because he was up at 6am and ready to get going; by the time the nail-gun fiasco played out, he didn't start until about 11:30. I think this was Friday. In any case, he said he kind of learned as he went along and once he made a plumb line and got his first pieces nailed down, it went fairly smoothly...








This job was pretty hard on his back, and he's not exactly looking forward to doing the upstairs. Having said that, he's very pleased with how it looks. The west wall, with the black foyer tile gone, now seems twice as big - I love this wall...







Lorenzo really took his time choosing the pieces so that the different colours were well-placed; some were very blonde, some were red, and some were distressed, and he made sure they were fairly evenly distributed. I am really liking this floor!

You know, I have never understood why anyone would put laminate floors in their home. They are the shag carpet of the future; the avocado-coloured appliances that were once on the cutting edge of style. 

Laminate flooring is essentially a photograph - a piece of paper - covered in plastic. The substrate is a bunch of sawdust mixed with glue. Once laid out, it has no depth, no shine, no texture. It is fake flooring and it feels really strange to walk on because it's essentially a counter-top. Walk across a laminate counter in your socks, and that is what laminate flooring feels like. See the difference:







If laminate floors were dirt cheap, I could understand how economics might force someone into making the purchase. But there are laminate floors that cost as much as $5. a square foot. I have seen  hard-wood flooring that is cheaper than its plastic counterpart.

It is mind-boggling to me that people actually believe they're installing something more durable than wood. If anything, they are devaluing their home. The floors we found were $2.35/square foot. They are solid pre-finished hardwood, not to be confused with engineered flooring which I don't like. If you look around, the deals are out there. And consider this: there are abandoned farm houses which dot the American landscape from one end to the other - many are hundreds of years old. And those old floors are being salvaged and re-used. Can anyone really believe that plastic floors will stand the test of time? If we called them "plastic floors" instead of "laminate floors" I think people would view them differently. It's like Alzheimer's disease. Call it "impending madness" or "soon-to-be bat shit crazy" and you think about it differently. Wording is everything.

Anyway, the cheesy laminate did not complement the pebble tile at all. Now it really pops...







We cannot really believe that we're nearly finished. We thought this day would never come. The trim and doors are painted, and all that is left is the upstairs and the staircase.
The kid's spring break is March 18th, and there is a very good chance it will be done by then. It's now time to buy the kitchen cabinets. Lorenzo might teach me how to wire-in the light fixtures - I'd like to head over with some of the furniture we've got piled up in the basement. He says it's very easy, provided you don't electrocute yourself. 

*     *     *     *

Today was "Family Day" - a new statutory holiday for British Columbia, dreamed up by the Liberal Party which also gave us the HST and Smart Meters. For small business owners like us, "Family Day" is just a huge expenditure. And when you have teenagers, "Family Day" isn't exactly the same as when your children are little. It's not as though we sat around the kitchen table playing monopoly or doing arts & crafts. They took off with their friends and Lorenzo and I spent the afternoon getting groceries. The stores were open, the cashiers - many of whom have children - had to work all day. Gas stations were open, restaurants, retail stores, etc. Everything was business as usual for the vast majority of workers...who have families they couldn't spend the day with. 



Thursday 7 February 2013


Lorenzo is heading over to the cottage tomorrow. He's going to level the floor and begin installing the hardwood. I've packed his food and drinks along with homemade cookies...I feel rather sorry for him, he's so tired right now. And that's all there is to say about the cottage!

He was sitting at the kitchen counter tonight while I was making the cookies and I said, "What's wrong?" He said, "I feel overwhelmed." When asked to elaborate, he started listing all the things around the house that need to be done. You see, our kid's bathroom upstairs has sprung a leak. Small, faint water rings have suddenly appeared on the living room ceiling. You look up at them and you just feel dread. We told them they have to shower in the other bathrooms until further notice. So there's that. And what does that mean...investigating, opening up the wall, mess, disruption...  Then there's the damaged drywall around the house - a chunk here, a chunk there - our once pristine walls marred by careless teenagers wielding a broom or a vacuum pole and ...oops! The hinges on our kitchen cupboards need to be replaced; they just don't close properly anymore. What else? Painting, gutters to be cleaned..it never ends, does it? 

This has been a really tiring few weeks - I'm not sure why. Maybe it's the weather. In the spirit of improving our health, I decided to buy a blender. I've been reading books about green smoothies, and the health claims made by incorporating huge amounts of greens into your diet ring true to me. There are blenders out there that cost a fortune - five hundred dollars for a Vitamix, for example. I picked up a Ninja blender at Canadian Tire for $99.




What can I say? It blends. It's like a garburator, this thing. I've been making Lorenzo green smoothies to take to work, and I'm forcing my kids to drink two big glasses everyday. Today I made a full gallon - my kitchen looked like a farm. I used: bananas, blueberries, strawberries, peaches, pineapple, kale, watercress, Swiss chard, spinach, carrots, cucumber, celery, parsley, flax seeds, and coconut oil. Did you know that parsley has three times the calcium as spinach? I'm learning so much. Anyway, the final product looks a bit like green sludge, but it tastes great (to me) and I feel really good about knowing my kids are drinking the equivalent of about 6 giant bowls of salad every day. I have always made salads, but I knew the kids weren't eating enough and often I'd have to issue threats to finish it, and it just got so tiring..

I feel more energetic since I've been drinking them - in fact, if I drink one at night I won't be able to sleep. My youngest son had insomnia the other night because he drank a big glassful before bed. That says a lot. 


I was going to buy a juicer, but I read that you can't live on juice but you can pretty much live on smoothies. And I didn't like the idea of discarding all of the pulp and fibre that gets trapped in a juicer. It's a terrible waste to me, and fibre is crucial to your health. Also, smoothies fill you up  - it's like a meal. So the plan is to drop 15 pounds: I'm working out again and drinking my smoothies. It's an exciting life, I tell ya. But think how much your body would benefit from drinking a few litres of this everyday... You'd have to chew your way through a gigantic heaping mound of salad just to get the goodness out of one nutritious smoothie. Just turn this:




Into this!






*     *     *  


My kids came home with their report cards today and I'm really ticked off. My youngest son is a very serious musician.  His drum teacher came second in Canada in a national drum contest recently. He said to us, "If your son played hockey as well as he plays drums, the NHL would be scouting him right now. He's that good."  So how did he end up with a "C" in band class? By what criteria? The teacher wrote, "Often off-task." Last term he wrote, "Easily distracted." This is the feedback you get after an entire semester - a few snarky words that are ultimately meaningless. My son is the most focused musician - he may be a dingbat or a slacker when it comes to other things, but not music. 

When I was in teacher training, we were reminded that you cannot grade a student on their behaviour. You are to grade them on their mastery - or lack thereof - of the academic content being presented. It should reflect their ability to meet the "prescribed learning outcomes" set forth by the Ministry.  So I typed up a long email to his teacher but I haven't sent it. Tomorrow, I'll read it again and perhaps adjust my tone

I just know he is grading my son on his conduct because if he were grading musicianship he'd be skipped ahead three grades. So unfair. I talked it over with him and he says he's bored out of his skull. He lives, breathes, and eats music all day long. And while the other kids struggle on their recorders, he's left sitting there watching, and what does he do? He starts tapping quietly on the snare...tap tap tap...I can just see him.

I don't blame the teacher for not knowing how to utilize my son's talent, but don't grade him for being bored. That's just bullshit. I think he needs to form a band and start rehearsing in the basement...it wouldn't bother me at all. His drumming is just a part of the soundtrack to our lives at this point...







I really feel kind of sorry for this generation of kids. I think we had the last normal childhood. Lorenzo sent me an email the other day with the caption "tuned-out teenagers." Check this out:













This is what it's come to. This is youth in the modern era - staring at their screens, oblivious to the present moment. 

Do these kids look like they're having fun? Are they doubled-over in laughter, cracking jokes? Sad...they might as well be alone, because in a sense they are. It's like communal loneliness.

My kids were laughing the other day while looking at pictures of their parents in their youth. They can criticize the clothes we wore, or our hair styles, but they can't say anything about our music. And that makes us cool in their eyes. I never thought my parent's music was cool, except for the Irish stuff. I remember a few road trips, trapped in the cigarette smoke-filled car with my Dad's 8-track cassette of Marty Robbins..."out in the west Texas town of El Paso, I fell in love with a Mexican girrrrrrl" (twang!)  Lame. Compare that to, "Hey, Joe...where you goin with that gun in your hand...?"  Heavy. Timeless. Perhaps a tad before my time, but not by much. 

My kids have hundreds of songs on their i-pods, and they don't realize how crappy compressed files sound. And they don't listen to entire records the way we did. It's a smorgasbord of disjointed songs, none of which comprise a cohesive musical listening experience. There aren't any albums anymore, no cover art to examine, no liner-notes to read...we used to memorize the producers, all the band member's  names, who wrote which song, which session player sat-in on a particular number, etc. They meant so much to us in the age before Facebook and Twitter and endless texting of oh-so-erudite and pithy remarks such as "LOL" and "OMG" and "WTF."

Kids don't talk on the phone, they punch in meaningless codes and letters, and they're constantly taking pictures of themselves. Their concept of privacy is non-existent.  And all of this makes for a disturbingly silent household which really irks me. I want noise! I want to hear my kids talking to their friends! It's all just so weird to me, and I wonder if other parents feel as I do.

I rue the day we ever agreed to all this, but we held out as long as we could. Ours were the last kids on the block to get "connected." They convinced us that life was passing them by, leaving them stranded at the station in a cloud of misery, if they remained "stuck in the seventies." 



Ciao for now.