Nicholas, you are so ridicholas!

Oh what a fun time I had with my grandson today! He is the cutest, absolutely most hilarious little guy in the world! And he is soooo much like his daddy, it makes me giggle.

I wasn't supposed to see him today. In fact, we had him all weekend so his mommy could go for a well-deserved time away with girlfriends. She works days only this week, or so we expected, so when she picked Nicholas up yesterday evening we were informed that he would be taken care of without our help right until Friday. So imagine my suprise when mommy called me at 8am this morning! They wanted her to stay late at work; could I pick him up from daycare?

Ok, pause here...have you heard such a ridiculous question? OF COURSE I COULD! I had other things I was supposed to do tonight, like attend Pampered Chef training, go for coffee with a friend I haven't seen for a while, continue the purging I began in the kitchen yesterday, hang up the laundry that's laying around in baskets all over the place, or wash my hair. (No, not really wash my hair, I just threw that one in there, as I hear others do that in the evenings.) But when held up against the option of hanging out with cool Nick, my to-do list seemed erased.

Work was good today. I finally found the time to clean up! Which is a good sign, I'm all caught up otherwise...in fact, I'm ahead. The old Molly Maid in me came out and those guys didn't know who had replaced the otherwise laid back Liz. The end result was beautiful, including the fresh smell of Lysol and Vim. My male co-workers thanked me. (FYI - it takes more than one SOS pad to scrub clean a toaster oven used by guys who love cheese and detest cleaning.)

I also got to see my daughter again. We had lunch. At least I think it was my daughter I sat and ate with. This particular version had blindingly bright shock pink hair. Not just a few strands either. Her whole head looked like a glow-in-the-dark Pepto Bismal bottle! Sigh. Thankfully, she has such a face that it even outshines florecent colours. My girl could be bald and still extremely beautiful. (For anyone who doesn't know, Christina is taking hair-dressing at school so I expect a few changes over the next several months.)

Today's theme must be hair, because when I picked up Nicholas from daycare they had used glue and paint (or something like that) to create a bright blue mohawk out of his soft, blond hair. I was stunned. "Isn't he cuuuuute!!!!" the young daycare workers squeeled as if they had created a masterpiece. I have a hunch one of them is related to Picasso, I'm sure I saw a trace of it in their creation. I don't like Picasso's art and I didn't like Nicholas' hair either. However, just like his auntie, Nicholas is beautiful no matter what his hair looks like and on the bright side, at least it wasn't pink, right?

I didn't want to spend the evening picking up toys, singing babablacksheep and saying no to the snack cupboard all evening, so Nicholas and Bamma went straight to the mall. I covered his head with a hat and explained a bit about what was acceptable and not for a young man at the mall. Nicholas of course understood and kept his hat on. I actually think he was slightly embarrassed by the new do himself. Of course his hat sat on his head the same way Marge Simpson's hat does, a wee bit up in the air. One might think he had a pet in there.

We went straight to the hair dresser and made an appointment for Nicholas. Enough was enough and I was sure his mom would agree...the boy needed a hair cut. We had 1/2 hour to kill before chop-chop time so we hit the food court like any Fehr would. Apparently, a mohawk makes the boy hungry; he not only ate his spagetti but also most of my pizza. (Natalie and I got him hooked on pizza when we ordered it for breakfast on Saturday.) He also downed a milk carton and part of my water bottle. I like watching a boy eat, totally abandoning himself to his food with utmost enthusiasm. Big Nick grunted with pleasure as he twirled the cheese off the pizza and swooped that spagetti between his lips. So cute.

The hair cut went well. Bamma was SO proud of her little grandson! He sat perfectly still, and made his disapproving frown only when he got spritzed. It took a bit of scrubbing to get the blue out. "What is that stuff???" the hairdressers questioned amongst themselves. Only Picasso would know.

Once Nicholas looked like a normal boy again and the thousand Goodbye's were said (Nicholas says bye as if it were a question... bye? bye? bye?) we were off to Shopper's Drugmart for a reward. Have I mentioned how brilliant my almost 16 month old grandbaby is? I took down three different snack items, all of which I know he loves, and explained "You only get one, Nicholas, now choose carefully...which one would you like?" He right away grabbed the bag of banana/strawberry snacks. I asked if he was sure and he nodded. To be totally sure I took the bag back and gave him one of the cans containing star shaped treats. He handed it back and went straight for his original choice. So, I put the rest back on the shelf, tore open his bag of treats and he started grunting happily again as we continued shopping.

I got to go to all my stores without Nicholas complaining once. He even helped me pick out a hand lotion at La Senza. I knew he liked the same one I did when he tried eating it. Such a darling. Even Bampa complains at the mall, and he certainly won't come to La Senza with me!

We found Nicholas some shoes, in fact they're Airwalks. (Beats me what Airwalk is but it seemed like an important brand so I thought it might justify the purchase.) They were on sale for $7 and perfect for Nicholas' wide feet. He let me know by not kicking them off right away.

Before heading home I let my grandson check out the play area. A very cool place. That's where Nicholas became ridicholas!!! He started laughing, and throwing himself backwards on the floor. Not tantrum style, just totally opposite. The other kids were fascinated by his lunatic ways, even the older cooler 4 year olds. And the parents couldn't help but laugh along. Nicholas ran around and laughed out loud for about twenty minutes. I think he might have been tired, but he was having so much fun I sure didn't want to interupt. So were all the spectators. I could have charged a fee for watching and they all would have stayed. Did I mention he's like his daddy?

It wasn't until he ran out of the play area and down the mall that I had to call it quits for the day. As mentioned in an earlier entry, I don't do running, so I limped as fast as I could to catch him. Barefoot! (No shoes allowed in the play area, not even for Bamma's and certainly not Airwalks!) Leaving bags and all behind Bamma chased ridicholas Nicholas past several stores and shoppers. That was fun.

When we got home, the true dizzy lizzy came out. First, I parked at Kat's house thinking it would be so much easier to just go straight there. Not until I got out of the car did I remember I didn't have her keys with me. So back in the car and home to Bamma's. In the house, grab the keys, say bye? bye? bye? to Bampa and off we walk to Kat's. Nicholas became ridicholas again. He laughed and fell so many times I was cramping from laughing too hard myself. Clearly the little dude was not aware of Bamma's bladder "issues" when laughing, or he might have offered up a Huggies or two. Not that size five would fit me, but the gesture would've sufficed.

At this point we both were tired and ready for bed. However, after many choice words with the "stupid" door lock at Kat's and explaining to Nicholas that he needn't repeat everything he hears Bamma say, I realized I had the wrong key.

Back to Bamma's, hi and bye? bye? bye? to Bampa and laugh and fall, laugh and fall all the way back to Kat's. To my relief I had the right keys this time.

HOWEEEEEVER...mommy dearest had left the chain locked and Bamma is not Inspector Gadget. So around the house, through auntie Charlene's we go, stopping to comment on every beautiful flower and falling and laughing, falling and laughing, until we reach the back door. Have you ever tried opening Kat's back door??? I suggest you don't unless you want an exercise in patience. She likes to lock the handle. The handle likes to stay locked. It probably enjoys the frantic barking of crazy Kilo the wiener dog, and the sound of Bamma's outside voice speaking in Italian.

Once in, my beautiful baby grandson walked straight upstairs laughing himself straight to his crib. There he laid down, gave Bamma a kiss, waved bye? bye? bye? until I shut the light off, and voila! he was sleeping. Beautiful, wonderful, incredible, miraculous, marvelous, straight-from-heaven, ridicholas Nicholas! I love you my sweet! You are indeed my sunshine, just like your daddy.

Bye? Bye? Bye? It's bedtime. This Bamma's exhausted!

Yawn!

I'm sitting here at my computer, listening to the clunk,clunk,clunk of the wannabe drummer playing Rockband in our basement. I should be in bed. I am so very tired. I'm tired in the morning, tired in the afternoon, tired in the evening...you get my point.

Funny, I do not know why I'm so very sleepy all the time. Most people would blame the weather. It has been raining a lot, and it's cold for summer.

When the kids were younger it meant so much to have balmy summer weather. I would take them out for picnics, we'd go to the park or the zoo, and we loved the beach more than anything. Cold summers were disappointing.

Now I find I'm home most of the time, rain or shine. I cannot complain or blame. It was very warm and beautiful outside for a while and all I heard was complaining regarding the heat. People were sweating to death! Now apparently they are freezing to death. I for one am the same...thanks to air conditioning.

I don't go out much. If I do it's over to a friend's house or out shopping. At work the temperature is consistent one week to the next. I feel I have no right to complain about the weather as it makes little to no difference. Certainly the rain would only make me sleepy if I actually paid attention to it, no?

Then there is stress. I could blame my sleepiness on the fact that I just started a new job and I look after our grandson on a regular basis. However, I absolutely love my new job and I love my grandson even more. (I miss him terribly if I don't seem him for a day.) So no, not stress.

Rod thought that my medication made me groggy. So I stopped taking my happy pills over a month ago. Nothing changed. Am I depressed? That could make one sleepy. However, I'm happy. Exciting things to look forward to even. D-day is in 6 days! Woo hoo...light at the end of the tunnel!

Jesus has given me such inner joy and peace lately too. Depression has been far from my heart. In fact, driving back and forth to work has been my main time of worship this past month. I sing along to Avalon and Newsboys and my heart is filled with such praise. One day I just started crying; the happy kind of crying. I said out loud "I love you so much Jesus, I just love you so much!"

You see, God has been so very good to me. He brought me through, he strengthened my resolve, he healed my emotional pain, he gave me joy..the real kind, the kind I asked for, the kind that remains when chaos reigns in circumstances. How can I not be thankful?

I know, now more than ever, that whatever comes my way, sun or rain, joy or pain, loss or gain, God will reign!!! (Hey that ryhmed! And I didn't even try.)

God is good. It is true! All the time he is good. Even when nothing makes sense! Believe me my friend, GOD IS GOOD!!! He knows. He knows! One day we'll get it. All of it.

Anyway, back to being sleepy. So, what's my take on it? I blame myself. Not stress, not weather, not meds. Once upon a time when I couldn't sleep at all I asked God to grant me the ability to sleep. Just like I asked for the ability to eat again. I vowed never to complain about my weight or feeling tired; I'd rather be fat, sleepy and happy than thin, awake and miserable. Yupp, God answers prayer. That's what he does, it's just who he is. So I shouldn't be suprised that I am sleepy and hungry A LOT. Summer or winter, meds or no meds, stress or no stress.

Praise God for sleep! Praise God for a cozy bed and a husband to sleep beside! Praise God for a comfy couch during the day! Praise God for food, the ability to cook and the choice not to! Praise God for air conditioning! And praise God for the teenagers in my basement pretending to be rock stars!

I love my life, and I really love my Jesus! And that's the honest truth.

Meaningless drivel

I really have very little to blog about. I just spent some time reading other blogs this evening and I realized it's been ages since I wrote myself. Wanna hear something ironic??? For the longest time all I wanted was to quit my job so I could spend more time writing and working on my Pampered Chef business. Well, my last day working for Herzing was March 25. That's a month and a half ago!!! I have blogged ONCE since then. And I haven't written in my journal at all! Neither have I spent much time building my business.

So what have I been doing? The first week or so was a write-off. I was an emotional wreck. I was also a full-time babysitter to my grandson for two weeks. God knew I was meant to be a Bamma, not a daycare, so he performed a miracle. Nicholas was accepted in to a daycare way before we thought possible. So, more time for me to fulfill my goals right? Wrong. Although I have been spending considerable time playing with and caring for Nicholas, I cannot blame him for my laziness. I am in a rut! Perche? you ask..(if you're Italian or work at Herzing that is)

Ah, the lure of television. It has been so long since I've been able to sit in my grubs with a cup of coffee and watch daytime tv. Who says it sucks? Not me. Not anymore. There are so many do-it-yourself programs on HGTV. And I am hooked on the cooking channel! Never mind The View, Regis & Kelly and Rachel Ray. Right now I'm even fascinated with Dr. Phil as he tries to repair parent/child relationships. I have become an addict and I need help! (Maybe I should call Dr. Phil myself, huh?)

Then there is Facebook. Yikes! What a time waster that is. I do quizzes that tell me what colour I am, what my eyes say, (I never knew they said anything) and which princess I am. I know what kind of socks my friend wears, who has a crush on whom in our church youth group, what my kids' friends are up to (although my daughters themselves won't befriend me), what's up with Jon & Kate, and what the weather is like in four different countries. Once in a while I even join the young'uns in a discussion or two. Sometimes I even feel like I'm really part of it, other times they just tolerate me. Like when I suggested to Craig that he should watch Bride Wars instead of Doom of the Dead or something. Not popular.

This is the long weekend. It is flying by. Tomorrow is Sunday already. I still haven't baked anything, vacuumed anything, washed anything, or planted anything. We even had left overs for supper today. And tomorrow night I definitely won't have any spare time. The season finale of Survivor is on for crying out loud! I do have my priorities straight, you know.

But now at least I can say I have written something. Meaningless drivel, but it's here in black and white. I think I might need to get a job to get into a routine. I actually have an interview next week. Part of me would rather stay at home with C,C &C. (Cable, Coffee & Computer) But of what good am I to others this way? Maybe if I watch Oprah, she can tell me...

Until next time,
She who has Happy eyes!
(even when the brain is sleeping and the heart is weeping)

To my son and my Father.

It hurts. So bad. I kneel down over the couch and sob into the cushion. Oh what a sinner I am to deserve this. Surely you must be punishing me for something? You are a just God. As I always said to my kids "Make sure your sins will find you out."

I don't think we realize the impact of our sin and what it does to those around us. My son, if you'd known, would you still have made those choices? Or did you know and went ahead anyway? I have so many questions for you but there is so little point in asking them. I know you already feel so bad. And I have a hunch that you're as stumped for answers as I am.

There are just so many things to take care of, I am completely overwhelmed. The bins sit empty. I was down there today, thinking I should start sorting through your mess. But it's too painful. I wonder if this is how people feel when their child dies? How does someone move on after that? Oh God have mercy on us all!

I love your baby boy, he is my sunshine. But when I look at him I see you and it hurts. All I can think of is what he's missing because you are not here. You are the one who lights up his life, no one can take your place as his daddy. I feel so ill equipped for the task ahead.

I look forward to seeing you in a week or two. I dread seeing you in a week or two. That's the way it is now. Joy and sorrow hand in hand. Can't have one without the other.

I am so very, very tired. Why then can I not sleep? Can you sleep?

More than anything I want for you to surrender to Jesus. If you do that, all this pain is worth it. How can you not see that it's only by His grace that you aren't even worse off? You deserve what's happening. You actually deserve worse. I know you know that. Why do you refuse your King???

Only four days so far...it seems like a life time. This is going to be one long year unless something speeds up.

Lord give me energy. Lord give me sleep. Lord give me clarity. Lord give me strength. Lord give me peace and hope. Lord give me joy, not the fake kind that rises and falls like a leaf in the wind. But the real joy that is steadfast no matter what the news or circumstance. Only with that kind of joy will I survive this pain. There it is again, the two opposites, co-existing.

You oh God, created my emotions. You allow for them, only you can heal my shattered heart and stop my mind from spinning out of control. Please my God, remember me, remember and act as the compassionate God you are. I need you. This whole family needs you. I am counting on you to stay true to your promises even in this fog of fear and uncertainty. I do love you. I love my son. I know you love me and I know you love my son even more than I do. On that I base my hope. Please don't let me be sick from disappointment. Strengthen my heart to serve you.

Amen.

Monday, Monday, ba da bada ba-da..

It's Monday. Most people dislike Monday. It's the day after a relaxing Sunday. It's the first day of the week that most of us have to get up early and go to work. Morning traffic can be aggrivating on a Monday. Clients, students and customers line up to see you on Monday because "heaven forbid" you weren't available for two whole days in a row. And last but not least, Monday is the day that you sit and wish you'd gotten so much more accomplished over the past weekend.



Monday can be guilt inducing, exhausting, irritating and down right depressing. So I was somewhat delighted to see Pastor Steve's Facebook post this morning. Apparently, he thinks Mondays are great. Way to be positive!



I decided to make a list of reasons Monday is the day of the week. Please consider the following positive take on the most despised day of the week, and see if your day improves.

1. Hmmm...where to begin...let's see...YES! Monday gives you a chance to re-connect with the co-workers you've missed so much over the weekend.


2. New beginnings are always good...and Monday starts a new, fresh, let's-try-this-again week for us.


3. On Monday you can take it a smidgen easy at work (why do you think I'm blogging...) because you know you have four more days to get your weekly work done.


4. Monday brings you back in to routine, and if your routine involves a double-double on the way to work, well hey, that's something to cheer for!


5. Monday is a good day not to do housework because noone's likely to stop by until the weekend. (Again with the four more days thing.)


6. Usually, all the laundry is done by Monday so there are fresh clothes to wear. (Except for today..I quickly threw a load in before work, but not in time. I am wearing my all-to-tight emergency pants. Not comfortable whatsoever!)


7. You can feel good knowing no one at work won the 649 over the weekend since they all showed up for work. (Imagine being the one left behind if you weren't part of the "pool".)


8. It's not quite as annoying to receive those early morning phone-calls because you weren't going to sleep in anyhow.


9. If you don't have money to go out for breakfast - meh - no big deal. Who has time for breakfast on Monday anyway?


10. For me, this is the best part of Mondays: our little grandson moves back in with us for the week, so I'll be greeted by his huge grin when I arrive home after a hard days work. Just that makes Mondays great!

Yepp, Pastor Steve, you are dead on!

Third wheel, the Kingdom of God, Andre & Helen

The title is a run-down of my day yesterday.

Obviously, I have not blogged for a while. I'm not sure why. I've just been too blah to write. I could blame the blahs on circumstances; such as being tired, too busy, financial distress, fall arriving, others irritating the crap out of me, work becoming an overwhelming trap of incomplete tasks & unrealistic demands etc...

This morning, however, I discovered that it simply boils down to pure selfishness on my part. I have been too selfish to seek God, too selfish to properly love those around me, too selfish to do what needs doing, too selfish to see how good my life is, and too selfish to obey and do what's right. So, there is my confession! On to my day yesterday.

As mentioned, work is becoming less fun and more..well...work! My favourite co-worker has now gone on maternity leave; which left a huge gaping hole in the fun category. Her incredibly positive can-do attitude, laugh-'til-you-drop sense of humour, and quick whit, made me actually look forward to each work day.

Now that she's gone I enter the office with a deep sigh at the sight of her empty chair. Clearly, I am not the only one feeling the loss. Everyone seems to have lost the ability to smile and stay positive. More than one person could use a phone silencer for when they slam the phone back on the hook. Many a frown should be turned upside down. Complaints, gossip, and pure misery seem to have taken over the front office. Not fun! But I am as much to blame as anyone.

Yesterday was no exception. I knew it was best to just shut up and work, which is close to impossible for a pure extravert.

Then came the e-mail that triggered an utter sense of failure. A sister-friend of mine forwarded a set of e-mails shared by her and another friend. They went right over my head and I wondered why she sent them to me. For the umpteenth time I felt like a third wheel.

You see, I have a tendency to include everyone. I was taught that as a child. If you invite one person in your class to your party, you must invite everyone. Do not leave anyone out! For our wedding, Rod and I went out of our way to invite people we knew normally wouldn't be considered wedding guest material. I just believe in inclusion. Jesus included the outcasts, why shouldn't we?

So when I consider new friendships, I try to reach out to people who are not "in" or "cool". I figure they already have enough friends. Of course, being inclusive draws me towards everyone, including the cool people, so I do have some cool friends too, but I make a point of being friendly to the outsiders.

This results in my having many triangle relationships. No, not when it comes to marriage! I have only one husband who has only one wife. But friendship wise I have plenty of threesomes. It works quite well in some respects, not so much in other. I often feel like the third wheel, even if I'm the one who started the friendship. When I make a new friend I immediately introduce that friend to another friend so they can branch out. This has lead to many of my friends becoming closer with each other than with me.

I have three particularly close friends with whom I share a lot. I consider each of them a sister-friend. They each belong to a different triangle friendship. Usually, I don't mind when they exclude me and do things with the other person in the triangle. I just find one of my other sister-friends to hang out with.

For some reason though, I was bothered by this e-mail. At once I felt left out, taken for granted and totally incompetent as a friend. Add that to the stress at work and my feelings of inadequacy there, and my mood was pretty low. I decided to take a long overdue lunch break.

I collapsed in my car crying. It felt good and sad all at once. (FYI I stopped taking my medication a few weeks ago so I have started to feel again.) I asked God why everything is such a mess. (Of course EVERYTHING is a mess when one feels out of sorts.) I thought of my friendships, and how little I contribute in terms of really mattering to people. I tend to be the one friends go to for fun, lunch, a movie, coffee or shopping. They lean on the other third of the friendhip triangle for love, support and caring. So, what's wrong with me?

I remembered a quote from my favourite tv show "The Office". (It might not be accurate word for word.) Michael said "There's something wrong with society!" upon which Jim replied "Maybe there's something wrong with you, not society?" Then Michael came up with the best excuse ever by saying "Well, if I'm wrong, it's society's fault for making me that way!"

I used that argument with God. Not sure he bought it even though I mixed it with tears and anguish! "There's something wrong with my friendships, God!" "Maybe it's not your friendships, Liz. Maybe it's you that needs to change." "But God, if I'm all wrong for these friends, it's the friendships fault. Maybe I need to find new friends?" "Nope, your friends are good friends. YOU just need to change." "But how?" I asked with a sob. Then came the Bible verse to which I frequently refer. "Seek first the Kingdom of God and his righteousness and all these things will be given to you." Hmmm, back to that are we?

My best friend is God, really it's true! He likely feels like a third wheel nowadays too; I've sort of been neglecting him big time. I asked forgiveness for my selfishness, stinky attitude, and lack of "remaining in Christ".

Then I wiped my face and drove to the Bay. Big mistake financially, but wonderful for my sense of well-being. That's where I met Andre. I was a "sitting duck" for a salesman with hunter instincts. Checking out the perfumes with my puffed up red eyes, and lingering over the lovely smell of J'adore by Christian Diore, I was easy to spot as a vulnerable, ready to "charge-it" customer. Andre was observant and knew his job well.

"Are you having a bad day?" he asked compassionately. "Uh-huh..." I nodded as I took a whiff of another perfume. He went right for the kill..."Let's give you a makeover so you can feel better!"

Ok, let's pause here. If a very attractive, twenty-something, metro-sexual man with perfectly tanned skin, white smile, curled eyelashes framing bright blue sparkling eyes, mentions "make-over" and "feeling better" in the same sentence, wouldn't you sit down and let him have his way with you?

Maybe I'm a sucker (well yes, considering I bought $1000 worth of pots & pans when I was 20, single, and working for $4.25 an hour, I guess I AM a sucker) but it felt nice to have Andre's full attention for twenty minutes. So nice in fact, that I didn't care that he wore a microphone; announcing to every hearing person in the store that I had tired eyes, wrinkles, age spots and red blotches on my skin.

Let's just jump to the part where I bounced back in to the office with a bright smile and a bag full of goodies; some free but most highly pricey. I felt like a million bucks! (As I should have, since I spent close to that amount.)

That evening Helen (one of my other sister-friends, not the one who sent the e-mail) and I went for coffee. We had a good long heart-to-heart. The thing I love most about Helen, is that she is who she is. And she loves me for who I am, flaws, selfishness and all. I don't think she has ever complained or pointed out any of my negative characteristics. We can say and do ANYTHING and we still love each other. Isn't that what true sisterhood is? I think so. I felt spurred on by our conversation to "seek the Kingdom of God first".

This morning, before doing much of anything else, I sat down with my Bible and read John chapters 13, 14 & 15. It's all about obedience, love, bearing good fruit and remaining in Christ. They are all tied together.

No wonder I've been feeling bitter and angry at work! No wonder I've been feeling inadequate! No wonder I've been feelong detached from God and other people! I haven't been obedient in seeking God. That leads to not remaining in Christ, which makes it impossible to love him, others or even myself. And the fruit I've been bearing is as rotten as the banana that's been sitting on my desk for 2 weeks. Love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, gentleness and self-control have all been in very short supply.

Change is coming! As the leaves change colour in the fall, so shall I change fruit. I want to fill the emptiness left behind by my missing co-worker. I know that in and of myself I cannot do that. I'm not that positive, friendly, energetic, young and whitty. However, if I seek the Kingdom of God first, and remain in Christ, HE will see to it that the change happens. I'll get an inside-out makeover that will cause me to feel like more than a million bucks. All without using my credit card. And my fragrance will be that of Christ rather than Christian Dior.

Thank you Lord for third wheels, your Kingdom, Andre and good friends like Helen.

Our history with vehicles

Once again, Rod is out looking for a vehicle for one of our offspring. "Another day, another car" is becoming our motto around here. Let me give you the low-down on our vehicle history...

When I first got my license at the tender age of 18 (yes, in Norway you can't drive until 18) I bought my uncle Johs' car. It was an older, beautiful looking dark blue car. (You will notice that I name vehicles by colour, not type or year, as all that counts for me is how it looks and if it works.) My uncle had spent years caring for that car as if it were his child. Cleaner than my teeth after I've been to the dentist (which isn't very often because dentists scare me, but I digress...) this baby drove like a dream. I suddenly became popular with the guys. One of those guys became my boyfriend and brought sudden death to my beloved vehicle. Soon after that he became my ex-boyfriend! I have never really recovered from that loss (the car, not the boyfriend!)

When I moved to Canada I quit driving, because I thought I'd need to take a test to get a Canadian license. (Years later I discovered I just had to trade in one for another, I guess Norwegians are known for their strict driving qualifications.) That's when I discovered bussing. I bussed everywhere. At the time it didn't bother me. However, after bussing to work each morning this past week, I have come to detest it more than ever. Too many weird odours, stains and hairy armpits on Winnipeg Transit for my liking.

Rod came riding into my life in a beat up old red wonder that was ductaped together so as not to completely collapse. (Slight exaggeration, but let's not ruin a good story with the truth.) He became my knight in shining armor and we drove around in that old thing until it finally choked on its own exhaust fumes. Rod got $50 for the remains.

When we hauled our brood & belongings to Norway, my dad sold us a purple car which did nicely for the two years we lived there. My younger sister, Trina bought it when we decided to go back to Canada. This is where the real fun visa-vi vehicles starts to unfold.

We bought a baby-blue boat of a car while in B.C. Then we moved to Regina and discovered that the Prairies has a slightly different climate than the coast. Our poor car got sick. I learned to drive automatic in that car. Did it complain as I slammed on the brakes every two minutes thinking I needed to shift gears? Noooo. Did it mind the noise of 3 chicken-pox ridden babies in the back as we raced to the doctor's? Nooooo. Did it ever refuse to move again when I happened to back into a garbage bin, parking meter, shed, garage or curb? Again, the answer is Nooooo! I loved that car, right until it died....on the highway....in the evening.....when I was alone with the kids.....on my way to a retreat.....several hours away from home. I spent the weekend grieving.

It went down-hill from there. We bought a lemon yellow (on the outside) and lime green (on the inside) old tank of a vehicle for $200. I have a great picture of the kids playing in the trunk as if it were a sandbox or something. My boys' favourite pass-time was to jump on its hood. This one quit working late one night in the middle of cow country (yes, northern Alberta) after a trip to Grande Prairie. We had taken another couple in to town to see "The Firm" (one of my all time favourite movies) and it was on the way back disaster struck. It was atleast 40 below and the warmest thing any of us wore was the cowboy hat Dale always sported. In times like these I love being a girl. Celeste and I just huddled in the back seat while our male partners headed out in the cold to figure out what the problem was. Praise God, an RCMP vehicle stopped and helped us out. Our yellow/green tank never drove again.

That's when we decided to splurge on a glorious dark-blue van. After all, we were a family of six, living in the boondocks and in need of a reliable vehicle.

I will never forget the sight of my father in a suit, on his back under that van, trying to tie up its underbelly securely enough to get us home from the airport in one piece. He was not impressed with our new choice of transportation.

That van lasted until we were ready to start our vacation. One peaceful Sunday morning in Regina, an idiot decided to drive drunk in a vehicle without brakes. He interrupted our quiet drive to church by running a red light and hitting our van three ways before coming to a stop an inch from a KFC window. I remember seeing his fast approach and yelling "I'm going to die!" Thankfully, I didn't, but we never made it to the family reunion. Our van was totalled and our family in shock. I threw up at church that morning. Some friends lent us a vehicle to drive home to Flin Flon.

The next van was grey. It went up in flames in the middle of the night while we were at a Pastor's retreat. Say what??? Yepp, this is the total truth. We woke up from the front desk phoning us to say our van was in flames on the parking lot. Nothing looks as spectacular as a van burning to a crisp at 3 am. We still don't quite understand how that happened, but again we were thankful for the timing; at least we weren't in it on our way home or something. We caught a ride back to Flin Flon with friends.

Rod had just bought our next van (silver) when I sat parked at Natalie's school. I was in my pj's and totally unprepared for what happened next. A woman in a much nicer vehicle lost control and smashed into me. Nicer vehicle clearly does not equal better driver. I couldn't open my door to get out, but this one was at least repairable.

However, our first shopping trip at Polo Park in Winnipeg and that van was toast too. Our friendly "Welcome to Winnipeg" is familiar to many, as it is not unique. Our van was stolen, used as a joy-ride/stolen goods getaway-car, and left to rot on the side of the highway just out of town. Another write-off. Sigh!

Another van (the colour is a blur...it came and left so fast) was totalled by our son (I won't name names, but anyone who knows us will be able to guess) who ended up in a ditch while changing radio stations on Ravelstone. Then, David's first vehicle was stolen from our driveway and abused to the point of being written off. Daniel's first vehicle got hit by a nervous teenager driving her parent's car, and (you guessed it...) written off. The green van we bought after the ditch incident, lasted a loooong time, at least a couple of years. We sold it to Daniel when we took over David/Christina's burgundy car because neither of them could afford the payments.

David was driving Daniel's van a couple of weeks ago when a semi truck decided to slam into him as he sat at a red light on Nairn. The truck driver exclaimed "I thought you were going to blow that red, man! Us trucks need more time to stop you know!" Idiot.

So, here we are as usual, looking for another vehicle. Rod and Daniel just returned; it looks like a go. This car is a white two-door, perfect for Daniel. We'll see how long it lasts. Sadly, David has to pay a $200 deductible thanks to no-fault insurance. Yeay!

Meanwhile, I'll keep driving our burgundy car. Right now it makes a banging noise every time I hit the brakes. The mud flap has disappeared and every so often the whole inside thingamadoogie falls down, dragging along side the right front tire. I just pull over and tuck it back in. Thanks to a few garbage bins, sidewalks, parking barriers and meters both the front and back bender have "a few marks". But for now it'll do. Rod's about to take it out for a spin. Did I mentioned he is a mechanic? Stay tuned...