No Frills

Yesterday I stopped at the No Frills on my way home. It was a beautiful day, sun high in the sky, an awesome view of the harbour from the parking lot. I felt grateful. I just wanted to get some black beans for a recipe I was making. As I drove over the perfectly smooth new pavement I decided that I might also get some Chapman's vanilla frozen yogurt. That would be a treat, I deserved a treat. Yes, beans and ice cream. That's all I needed, Quick and easy, in and out.

As I approached the store I saw a grimy young man sitting down on the pavement right next to the entrance, cardboard sign in hand, big black block letters with decorative red stripes inside each letter of the words "Travelling" "Hungry" & "Anything will help". He was wearing black boots, jeans and a green army type jacket . God he must be hot, I thought as I passed by him saying hello to the skinny boxer mix laying on the pavement next to him, her head on the young man's crossed legs as he leaned up against the building, a small tattered back pack on the cement next to him.

It is worthy of note to say we are not used to seeing this sort of thing in our area. Everything/one here has a place, a history, a purpose. Most people can speel off someone's family history in an instant. An unknown is potentially also an unwelcome.

I have seen this guy before, or someone who looks like him holding a similar, but not so pretty sign at the intersection near the bridge during the busy traffic times, minus the dog. It was easy to ignore that guy though, easy to just drive by and not even look at him. For some reason, the young man at No Frills was not as easy to ignore. He was there, in front of me as I walked by. He seemed more real. He was young, and intelligent looking. He had kind eyes with which I got eye contact as he rubbed his dog's back.

As I rushed to the bean section I pondered how this person might have come to this point in his life. I had an internal dialogue that brought me to a place where I wondered if this man was just doing some kind of social experiment. Nah I decided, why would ya?

Most people just walked by him like he wasn't even there. I couldn't. Suddenly I found myself searching for food that might work for this person who was "travelling". I travelled once, but it wasn't called that. I was like a frantic mother getting last minute things for their child who was going on a road trip. Displaced nurturing...is that a thing? Hmmm, lunchables...well, I wouldn't buy those for myself, but it could work for a "travelling " man and it has protein...sort of. Yes, lunchables...and something for the dog, but not a can that requires an opener or storage. A V8 for him maybe...and oh something for fun...chocolate and some cheesies. What is wrong with me? Lets throw in some YOP and some cold water.

Za...are you nuts? Perhaps this man is in this position because of his own bad choices, maybe he is a rebel, just lazy, a criminal, a druggie? Either way I felt it worth the risk. All I had to lose was a few dollars after all. Maybe it could help...or maybe I would lose 10 bucks and feel a bit foolish...but maybe... just maybe it could help for a second at least.

So I packaged up a few things and passed them to him on the way out. NO FRILLS ATTACHED. I told him there was something for the dog and I asked the dog's name. "That's Gina", he said. I stooped down, petted her and talked to her a while. She seemed happy, tail wagging. He thanked me. I left, and on the way , my window wide open, I heard him digging in the bag saying, "Oh look what you got!" as he pulled out one of the dog food packages and fed it to Gina right away. His tone was the same I might use with my own dog. He looked up and mouthed thank you, I nodded as I drove away. Gina's long skinny tail was frantically wagging as she devoured her dinner.

I realized I had forgotten the beans.

The next day in the staff room I heard people say things about the guy at the No Frills. "They should have made him leave." "I don't need to see that" "He should get a job" "How can he have a dog?" " I wouldn't give him anything" "Sometimes those people just have dogs so people will approach them" Etc...etc...
I said nothing. I found myself wanting to defend him though, but I was silent.

I asked the dogs name, but I didn't think to ask his. Hope his "travels" are going well and he reaches his destination on time and in tack. I asked the dog's name...but I didn't ask his ... I asked the dog's name...

My Bike Makes me Wonder

I see and hear many things when I'm on my bike that might otherwise go unnoticed. This morning I stopped to read a plaque on the bridge indicating it was dedicated by Pat Binns on August 26, 1998, & sponsored by Strait Crossing. Who even knew this plaque was there? How could I have lived here on and missed an entire bridge construction?

Just on my short commute to work I see unusual items or for that matter perfectly ordinary things that jump out at me.
I once saw fifteen baby seals playing on a cement slab during low tide. The slab used to be part of the old bridge. I was able to stop and enjoy them.
I'm used to seeing the cormorants on the cement pillars, wings spread but it's only on my bike that I noticed their skinny little necks sticking out of the water as they glide to the cement pillars to join their friends.

Once a circular saw blade flew off the back of a truck with great speed and flung itself in my direction. Luckily, it missed me by inches but for an instant I had visions of being sawed in half like one of those sexy gals in the boxes at magic shows, only it would be much more gruesome and definitely less sexy. Moments like this jolt me back to realizing how potentially dangerous it can be and forces me to question why I choose to ride my bike over a busy and dangerous bridge daily. Then I remember things like how on both sides of the bridge I smell the wild roses that are on the causeway section before it actually becomes a bridge. Wild white on the way to work, wild pink on the way home. This type of rose always make me think of my mother so that's especially nice each day. I feel she is with me, at least in my thoughts. I would miss that brief moment if speeding by in my car. When the rose scent leaves the clover scent happens just as I come off the bridge--that is if not interrupted by the pungent exhaust from an older vehicle or interrupted by the air brakes of a transfer truck.

I see cranes with their skinny stick legs standing in the water, and as I'm looking I notice the bright green moss covering a large piece of driftwood, very nice...but I also notice the seemingly new, very expensive NIKE sneaker on the side of the road and I wonder if anyone actually misses it and how it got there, same with the shiny Volkswagon hub cap.

I note the very large seagull on top of the streetlight everyday. I think it might always be the same one, but I will never know. Another time I came across a dead crow surrounded by other crows...maybe a crow funeral. I felt like I was intruding as they quickly flew away when I slowly rolled closer, me being a little creeped out at the idea of a dead crow in my path. I also am treated each day to seeing another crow, the same one everyday. He's special, I recognize him because he has a white feather sticking out of his back. He's usually alone. I wonder why.

Every day, even on the hottest of days I meet a gothy looking young man all dressed in black, he has long black hair, he sports a set of bulky seventies headphones, and carries a walking stick. Every day he nods at me. I nod back.

I say hello to the flaggers, no time for that in my car. I feel the breeze in my face. Cleansing.

Also, for some reason I see many black straps with "S" hooks on each end that have obviously come loose from holding something which I worry might fly off and hit a biker because of the absence of these straps. I sometimes stop and pick them up cause they seem useful. So far I have collected three.

Once I saw underwear and a brush situated close to each other. Disturbing. I did not pick either of those up , but it made me wonder how they got there overnight.
And the bonus...and I know I shouldn't, but if I choose to I can ride by all the cars in the line up waiting at the red light. I can go right up to the curb and then wait for the light myself and still get home faster than if I was in one of those cars. For some reason this gives me a real rush...and so does going up a one way street the wrong way. Don't get me wrong, i am mostly a rule following biker, but I have moments.

Today on my way home I saw a dead sea gull and had the worse feeling that it might be the watcher bird from the street light, but when I looked up he was there watching over a bunch of baby seagulls awkwardly flying about and I forgot all about the deceased bird. I wonder what tomorrow brings?

An interesting day

Tuesday morning...after a long spell of grey, windy and wet mornings finally the sun had blessed us with her presence. The tops of the trees were totally still. This is usually how I gauge if I shall bike to work or not as wind is the enemy when on two wheels. Yes, A perfect day to head off to work on my bike. I had been waiting patiently as Mother Nature made all the decisions for me. What a beautiful morning. The water under the bridge a sheet of glass. How I wished I was in a kayak, but since this was not going to happen I would embrace and enjoy my 4.5 km ride to work. Even the pollution control plant looked lovely as I rebelliously glided on the pavement near the water, not on the bike path on the other side of the road as I should have been.
Yes, this was going to be a glorious day and I knew it.
I arrived at work, panniers in tow, loaded with everything I needed for my great day ahead. I get to the locker room unpack my bags that held everything I needed, a nice healthy lunch, including my freshly made veggie wrap, soy milk, and an orange.
I start to get organized for my shower:
Summery skirt, TICK, pretty little lemon yellow sweater, TICK, ultra feminine pink bra with lace, tiny rhinestone between the boobs, TICK, white tank top for under pretty little sweater cause its a little thin, TICK,
Shoes with heels and toes as required by the workplace, TICK, Sockettes so my feet do not get sore in said regulation shoes, TICK, name tag , so people know I work here, TICK, lab coat, TICK, accessories perfect for this day...a big orange flower necklace with matching orange earrings, TICK, Panties carefully chosen this morning, DEAR GAWD WHERE ARE MY PANTIES????? SHIT, BALLS, dEVIL, i HAVE LEFT THEM AT HOME ON THE BED. NO TICK! Panic. My skirt is knee length with huge flowers on it. This previously unimportant fact, the length of my skirt,
becomes very relevant.
I wear my biking pants on my bike, ya know to feel all bikerish, and they have a built in crotch rendering underwear wearing useless especially if one is going to freshly shower in good time.
Now there are times & situations that I might choose to go commando, like soldiers surviving with "necessities only" underwear being deemed a luxury. This day was definitely not one of them. I work in a sterile enviroment, with strict rules surrounding cleanliness etc... And now I am acutely aware of my skirt sticking to my bare ass and all that goes with that.
Hmm..I think in a panic, serious internal dialogue going on... perhaps I can obtain a pair of those mesh panties they provide with Promise incontinence products...after all it is a hospital right? No, that's ridiculous, just carry on, go with the flow, DO NOT CONFESS THIS TO CO-WORKERS, that's just weird. (being a confessional type I tend not to be too good with my own secrets). Carry on...go to work, behave normally...
And so I did...behave normally that is, but it sure made for an interesting day, and not the type I anticipated.
Since I spend the morning sitting at a biological safety cabinet wearing a waxy gown I was stuck to my chair and the gown. I claimed I was SOOO cold and asked a co-worker to get a blanket for my legs. (It is cold because of the airflow, so this would not be unusual). I had a nice warmed hospital blanket draped on my legs. The afternoon is a different story, I walk around, I squat to retrieve things and so on.
Strange sensations for sure. Going down the stairs I became acutely aware of my nakedness, held my skirt in tight noting the people under the stairs through the gaps. Going to the bathroom was strange, but ever so easy. and while one would not think that a little pair of panties would hold one's access flesh together much I was strangely aware of my loose belly swishing back and forth and my generous butt bouncing about. Part of me kind of liked it, there was a certain freedom, and a feeling of keeping a little secret... if I must be honest...and I must, cause as we have established I am a confessional type. Wednesday I did confess to my co-workers, an otherwise serious bunch, who did get a good laugh out of it all. Let's just say I do not plan to do this again...in fact I may just buy a brand new pair of Hanes Her Way and leave them in my locker. And YES, IT WAS AFTERALL AN INTERSTING AND GOOD DAY.

Ah...Retrospect

Robert Leo Oliver
Well, its Father's day again. Every year it comes, every year it goes. Usually it just slips by unnoticed by me, unless of course I go for brunch and can't get a seat, suddenly realizing that it is in fact Father's day and that's why there are so many people about celebrating. Today I decided not to let that happen. I would not let this day go by without thinking about my father.

It has been so long since the word "dad" had been part of my vocab that it feels weird even typing it.

My father died when I was young, eleven to be exact. My aunt arrived in her most serious form and as she leaned against our kitchen stove she told my brother and I, "Your dad is gone my Loves." Well, I didn't exactly know what she meant. Really I just wondered where he went and when he would be back. But somehow, I knew, what with all the tears and my aunt's serious face. I knew he was sick, but I had no idea how serious it was. I learned very quick meaning of words like "cancer" and "stroke" and so on.
Back then I was considered too young to go to a funeral. Its just as well. I can remember him alive and a comforting force. And so he went away...

Every day he would get up, wash with Ivory soap, & shave leaving tiny dark whiskers in the white sink. He would go off to work delivering other's fine furnishings for Osmonds Furniture. Sometimes he might bring home aspecial treat like my brand new pure white dresser. This was my pride and joy until my budding artist sister, whom I have since forgiven for this, saw only a fresh white canvas as she did her best work with her red crayon.

Every night he would come home, sit down for supper, bless himself, eat, have some tea and then sit in his big green lazy boy, sport his thick reading glasses and examine with great interest the Evening Telegram. Then we might watch Bonanza which I pretended to like cause it meant spending more time with my dad.

Every Sunday he would sport his best hounds tooth polyester pants and white dress shirt and I my white turtle neck and jumper and off we would go to mass. It was he who fostered in me the fear of God without once raising his voice to me. Always letting me sing loud at folk mass, always letting me place the envelope in the velvet lined collection plate. I was full of joy when we set out for the House of the Lord, but only cause I was with my dad.

With my dad I picked my first pair of fashionable road runners, a hefty $17.00 purchase. Now, I realize that was a lot of money! With him I chose my first pair of stop signed shaped eye glasses from the cheap section at Mitchell's and felt great about it.

Every Tue. night, we would drive to my grandmother's house and I would go to Brownies with my aunt, feeling safe knowing he was waiting just down the street. On the way home we'd stop at Sunrise Confectionery and I would be allowed to fill a small paper bag with penny candy as he chose his
Rothman's from behind the counter. Swedish berries, and Fun Dips, Orange Pineapple for him and Rainbow ice cream for me, Dixie cups eaten with a wooden spoon. A bag of hostess chips for John, and "something for the little one".

And who could forget the old Dodge Dart he and a neighbor attempted to hand paint and were so proud of. think they wanted beige and red. It was more like peach and red.

I went everywhere with my dad. Visits with his step mother "Mrs. Oliver" on her farm with free roaming wild and crazy turkeys with scary bulbous masses hanging from their chins, gathering caplin at St. Phillips, walks to the Janeway apartments playground, camping in the back of the furniture truck, fishing in the water supply area, rescuing my brother from quick sand, getting the Christmas tree from the woods, falling asleep in his arms.

And of course, trips to clean up the family plot. He trimmed the grass, picked up the mess, layed flowers while I played with the rocks. The best part though, of family plot day was sitting on the cement frame (which defined our dead family's space) and eating bologna sandwiches and drinking Pepsi in the sunshine with my dad. Ah...the family plot... He lives there himself now.

Yes today I will honor and remember my/our father who instilled in me a healthy dose of self esteem. His spirit with me always...He was a great dad, and he would have been a wonderful grandfather too.
Happy Father's day to all dads...and to me too...as I remember.

Inch by Inch Row by Row...

Well, I planted my garden for this year. A beautiful array of delicious veggies. I love the feeling of being down on my knees digging in the earth. There is something about the smell of freshly dug earth, something about the anticipation, the possibilities, the nurturing. Now I certainly don't claim to be an expert gardener. This is really only the second year I've done this.(I don't count year one when everything died and planted the wrong beans). Last year my little garden yielded enough bright red tomatoes to share with friends and make some salsa and sauces. I had enough squash for well into the winter, enough fresh cucumber to have a few good salads.
Now, I haven't gotten to the point where I have the urge to pickle or bottle anything, so there was lots of food to share. I'm not sure what it will yield this year. I've tried a few new things like eggplant and leeks. Who knows how that will go? Really, I like the not knowing, watching,plants grow taller and more full. I'm not rushing summer by any means but since Fall will happen anyway, I can't wait to walk out to my garden, pick a few onions for my soup, grab a cucumber & a tomato and make a fresh sandwich. It's such a good feeling knowing I planted this food.
I planted lots of herbs too, tasty and ready to use. Trying a new one I found called pineapple sage. Feels a little funny to do that with sage, but it's tasty and attractive and would be great in a fruit salad or a green salad. I dislike buying "fresh" herbs at supermarket...them, all tucked in their plastic packaging, bound together with an elastic...they don't feel so fresh.
I'm just glad I was able to take the time, the whole day in fact which seems to stand still when I'm in my garden as evidenced by my sun burnt forearms.

"Finishing Something Frees Up Energy"

It's Sunday already. I promised myself that I was gonna post something today. I've been thinking about it now for at least two days. I considered so many options but they all seemed boring and forced. I don't like that feeling. (Perhaps this is why I have not been posting regularly) Then I was flipping through a notebook that I use in my writer's group & I came across the above quote from my friend Yvette. All of a sudden it made sense to me. I also had just finished reading a post by a FB friend about her finishing a 5k and having reached her goals. Then I remembered my first 5k and what a good feeling finishing something actually is. It is freeing... so what's wrong with me...don't I want to be free? Weird...just as I write this, I'm sure coincidentally, there is a song playing with the lyrics "don't you want to live free?" it's all a bit witchy. (DOBACARACHOL is the name of the group I'm listening to, and I have not listened to this in so long) I am such a procrastinator.
I know this. I AM A PROCRASTINATION TOOL. At my writer's retreat I was having trouble getting motivated so I wrote a monologue about procrastinating. The words came easily. Within minutes I had a 10 min monologue ready to go. Don't get me wrong; I'm proud of it. It's funny, it's a sarcastic reflection that I am sure many writers can relate to, and really it's a bit of a record of my weekend with 7 of my favorite people, but I was avoiding writing all the good juicy stuff, the stuff I should be writing. The burning house (as Anne Simpson called it in a workshop I once took with her)... Well, I mostly avoid burning houses, but...guess I gotta go in if I want to rescue the story.
It's true, the whole "frees up energy" idea...I made pasta sauce first thing this morning, now it's gone from my head ...welcome energy to use for my writing. I baked a great choc cake...excellent, welcome...more energy. More energy to work on my novel. I finally get it so I'm gonna need to finish this post soon cause i need the energy to run from the burning house if I have to, or to stay there, finish the story and deal with the heat of it all.

A Funny Thing Happened...

Let me reintroduce myself; it has been too long. I'm Liza...AND...

I love the thick and juicy burgers my friend Andre whips up. We call them Dre burgers and I look forward to them especially this time of the year. I watch with sweet anticipation as he smacks the meat jammed packed with all its secret ingredients from hand to hand forming the perfect disk, knowing I'll soon be biting into one of these tasty delights. I look forward to a steak, med rare, thrown on the BBQ and the onions sauteed in all it's meaty juices. I am the one who loves the fresh sausage at the farmer's market. I sometimes cook a roast on a Sunday afternoon just to have the aroma seep through the house. When hamburger is on sale I buy pounds of it. I always order the meat lovers pizza. Pulled pork...well hold me back. kibbi, well, I'll have a side order of that. I grew up on Bologna in all it's marvelous forms. I never know what to cook for vegetarian friends.

So when I woke up a vegetarian about a month ago it really confused me. I thought I was done with identity crisis. That's right, with no explicable reason I woke up one morning not caring if I ever ate meat again, not wanting too. In fact, I was a bit repulsed by the thoughts of devouring animal tissue to get my required nutrients. Nothing happened. I did not see the movie Food Inc. (many have since asked me this question) I did not see rotten meat, road kill, or have a bad experience. In fact the night before I enjoyed some great ribs and some meaty lasagna. I could not and currently can't think of any reason for this strange twist in my taste buds.

Initially I was in denial. I went shopping as usual. Straight to the meat dept as usual. I couldn't"t do it. I had to get away from there quickly. Well, I had no choice but go with my body's instructions. I assumed I would resume my normal habits as soon as I started making sense again. Nope, It has been a month and the urge has not yet returned. Although I am not yet calling myself a vegetarian (sounds so committal and limiting??) I have no desire to return to my life as a carnivore. WEIRD!!!!!

THEN A FUNNY THING HAPPENED...I started to feel better, spiritually and physically...though I had no idea I could feel better or that my body felt badly. SMART BODY!!! Then, in seeped the protein panic. I have always admired vegetarians, but wondered about protein. I mean in my previous state of mind I could only imagine consuming so many nuts, cheese, peanut butter etc...

Since then i have learned so much more. I've discovered a whole new world of spices and foods rich in everything I need. I've made a nut loaf, veggie lasagna, parsnip and ginger soup, quiche, a tomato and basil pizza. I've discovered corn pasta, kamut pasta. I'm having fun with quinoa, ...and...and...and...It has been an exciting gastronomical adventure, but not yet a challenge.

I love eating this way.

I've looked for answers. I've tried to blame hormones perhaps...but I can't find any biological explanation for any of this. I don't know where its going, how long it will last, but I am enjoying the transformation thus far and the process of becoming a vegetarian. MAYBE (-;
I'd be interested in hearing stories of why you chose to be/why you are vegetarian. Thanks to my friend Andre Comeau for the pics.