Heading North.

Hello dedicated blog subscribers – and to the innocent reader that stumbles upon my blog.

I’m sorry.

A lot has happened since last time I sat down to write.

So let’s have a quick re-cap. (In the most non-naracisstic way)

My summer was spent in Fort St. James – My homeland.

I left Vancouver with mixed feelings.

Knowing that it will be a while before I call the rainforest home again – (if ever) – I left with a tinge of sadness, mixed with the excitement of knowing I’ll be charting unknown waters in the months to come.

At this point- I had no idea what or where or how or why or when. I did not know what the universe had in store for me come September.

All I knew was that I was coming home. And it was a beautiful and frightening feeling.

Gone are the Vancouver supermarkets and chaos,

to be replaced with the Vegetable gardens I grew up in and my silly puppies greeting me with wet noses and waggy tales.

I had put out a question to my friends and family in the Fort.

“Would you attend yoga classes if I was to teach?”

The response was amazing.

The interest in yoga blossomed in little Fort- and I was so thankful to be able to share the gift of a gentle, holistic Hatha yoga to those who had come searching for it at the gym, the classroom at the Enterprise Centre, the health unit, or at Kwah hall and at the tale end, the beach. My goal was to make yoga accessible to my community and what an adventure that was.

This was exciting and anxiety triggering – I loved the feeling of stepping out of my comfort zone, and stepping on to the instructor’s mat at the front of the room. But could I do it? Were my students happy? Was I skilled enough? Can I do this?

Yes. I can do this.

and by the end of the summer- I wished I was teaching yoga full-time (in a perfect universe this would make enough funds to get me through Art school…) as I had such an amazing and enlightening time with my students. It was as if every time I stepped onto my mat to teach, I myself walked away with a new lesson learned.

This little community I discovered by teaching yoga really opened my eyes to the beauty of Fort St. James.

If you have been, you will have seen the lake, trees, mountains, snow, wildlife, etc.

But that is not the beauty I am talking about.

The beauty I found was within all my students. Every single one- even if they just did one class- they helped me open my eyes to all the amazing people I was surrounded by. It gives me the warm fuzzies just thinking about it.

Every class I taught- I felt more and more whole. Working with your community does that.

*I just can’t help but get all mushy – it’s what I feel and what drew me into the life of a yoga teacher… ALL THIS LOVE!

Teaching 5 yoga classes a week as well as working as a Customer Service Representative at Hub International (Insurance Office/ICBC mini branch) was a big commitment. But in both jobs- I learned so much and worked with amazing people.

I was very busy- the summer went by too fast it seemed.

Summer seems to always slip through my fingers- I’m sure you can agree with me on this.

The weekends where I could simply lounge in a hammock and read my novel, whilst indulging in the sweet breeze drifting off the neighbour’s field were few.

But that does not mean the Summer was meaningless.

The quality time spent with my family, friends, puppies, co-workers, and students made this summer something out of this world. No, I did not lose enough weight to prance around in a bikini, but I was able to plan and execute an Art Show, Apply and be accepted to Yukon School of Visual Arts, and run a mini nomadic yoga business while learning how be a good employee at Barton’s. Mixed with family dinners, laughter, bonding with brothers, meeting the older brother’s lovely girlfriend, campfires, sweat lodge ceremonies, and a healthy dose of dog walking. Somehow looking at it that way- I don’t think I would of had the time to “prance” around in a bikini because life had handed me a plate full of responsibilities. And I took it with Gusto. I also learned that one piece bathing suits are PERFECTLY FINE.

Just have to make sure you stay away from the frumpy ones.

So yes- in mid summer or so I learned that my next journey in life would be heading north.

Dawson City.

So with the help of family and friends I packed up all my things, said my goodbyes and thankyous, and gave each of my dogs a big, long, teary emotional hug. (Just thinking about them makes me tear up right now. My little darlings. I miss them so much.)

Mom, Dad, Daniel (younger brother) and I then hit the road- It was a fantastic road trip. I am so glad I was able to drive there instead of fly- as it was a great adventure for all of us.

That trip deserves a post of it’s own –

When we rolled into Dawson City- we hunkered down at Klondike Kate’s in a little cabin. The next few days were spent touring around my new town- since the tourist season was winding down- we caught some of the last tours of the season.

Time once again went by too fast. And soon I found myself moving into a little cabin by the Yukon river and saying goodbye to my family.

Once again the tears, turning into sobbing and consoling each other and those hugs where you don’t want to let go of each other ensued – That was my mother and I. I may or may not have seen dad shed a tear, as I was completely immersed in a bear hug surrounded by dad’s soft flannel work shirt. I then really broke down into a teary, snotty mess when hugging Daniel. The youngest of the family is also the tallest and broadest of shoulder, so once again I felt completely surrounded by his hug. Being siblings and being a teenage boy- getting a hug from Daniel is a very special, rare thing. So I made sure to get the most I could while I had him there. Which also meant he climbed back into the pickup truck with a rather soggy, snot covered shoulder. I could tell he was completely grossed out- as now he would have to drive back to Whitehorse with his older sister’s snot on his shirt. Oops.

I am not a glamorous cryer.

It did not matter how many times I hugged my family goodbye. It felt like I needed another hug, another kiss, another confirmation that yes, I could do this. I can do this. I will do this. All that fear of being on my own hit me like a in the gut. And I think my family could see this. So the hugs continued. More kleenexes were handed out. And more kisses were given.

When the pickup pulled out of the driveway, and drove down front street, I watched it until my family disappeared into the horizon.

Back to B.C.

Taking a deep breath in – the fear parted like ripples in water to allow my excitement to come out of it’s little hiding spot.

I may be scared, but I CAN do this I thought to myself.

Once in my little cabin, I unpacked my pink afghan, sat on my bed, and looked out my window.

That’s when I realized my cabin slightly tilted to the left.

I couldn’t help but laugh.

Most buildings in the Yukon that are built on permafrost have a quirky tilt.

I slipped off my sandals and snuggled up under my pink afghan, looking up at the ceiling.

Before drifting off to sleep (saying goodbye to the most important people in your life is a tiring ordeal) – I could hear the Australians next door start to play the guitar and sing.

With I smile, I let myself relax.

I could hear the chugging of the Dawson Ferry cutting through the strong current of the Yukon River.

My eyelids began to close, the chugging ferry becoming a purr, the yodeling of the Aussie next door turning into a soft murmur.

Another deep breath in, and the little smile turns into a toothy grin.

“Welcome to the Yukon” I thought to myself as I let go of my fear and slipped into a little afternoon nap.


Photo below: Boo and I 🙂



Sunday Scribbles- I am my Mother’s Daughter

Today is a beautiful Sunday in Vancouver- yes the sky is grey, but there are no raindrops darkening the driveway and as I glance out the kitchen window- I observe a neighbourhood cat trek through the front garden. Most likely picking a nice warm spot to relieve itself.

Listening to CBC this afternoon I am hit smack in the face with some melancholy. Oh how I miss my homeland and family. Even though the flowers are blooming and the grass is green here on the coast, a part of my heart still houses a love of the snowy driveway that trails through the boreal forest to my home, the delayed spring, mom’s tuna casserole… There are so many things I miss- I think that is what is making it easier for me to prepare myself in regards to moving back to Fort St. James for the summer.

Family has been such a important part of my life that it seems that everyday I go without family contact my soul cringes- deep down I thrive on the unconditional love my family shares with me, and I with them.

Soon my mother will be coming to visit me- and I am thrilled.

She is my best friend – we share something so beautiful that living away from her felt strange.

But the distance gave me the space to grow, to find who I was and who I wanted to be, I was able to make mistakes, make gooddecisions, all by myself.

And now, when we get together it seems like nothing has changed but so very much has changed all at the same time. I can’t describe it in words- it’s a feeling. Nobody ever told me that this was a part of growing up.

I am still my mother’s daughter, but I have become my own woman as well.

I am so happy I will be able to celebrate Easter with my best friend.

Yoga, dark chocolate, and good food are in the plans for this easter holiday.

Happy Sunday Lovelies,



Love is all you need; along with some business skills…

Namaste lovely audience

Today was my last sculpture class at Capilano University. 

Even though I am sad that it had to come to an end, it is also one step closer to my journey of being a yoga instructor up in the big wild north. 

Scary really- there are so many little decisions that need to be made- hopefully I make the correct ones, so that I will be coming back to Vancouver in the fall with a happier bank account so I don’t have to eat rice crackers and apricot jam everyday while I attend art school, that is if I even get accepted. 


My brain is full of anxiety. 

a good night’s rest and a morning class of yoga shall help unravel things a bit for me tomorrow. 

I have been in contact with people up north- trying to make the magic happen. 

Sending good vibes to my higher self tonight, no matter what happens, I will make things work… Someway – I am hoping my summer will be prosperous and positive. 

One thing I love about myself tonight is: I am living my dream. 🙂 


Om Shanti, Om Peace 




Mother Nature’s Umbrella

It’s February, probably raining outside, and so not what I’m used too.
Even though I have lived in North Vancouver since late July – I still find myself mumbling “…should have bought rubber boots”
I have been telling myself that since my first rain In Vancouver…


Little green shoots are peeking through the damp mulched flower beds, the grass is green (as always) and grocery stores have put out daffodils, iris, and Easter coloured flowers in little charming pots – making my fingers tingle a bit, as my mind buries itself in deep memories of planting flowers with mom, vegetables with Neil, the smell of rich soil, seeing the robins with red breasts thrust out, vibrant and confident, prance joyously on the front lawn playing peek a boo with the worms.
Watching mother nature slowly take off her winter coat, is a treat in itself, sitting still amongst the tall swaying trees as your eyes catch glimpses of the strong masculine sunshine caressing mother nature, holding her in a gentle embrace, watching the intertwined elements between the two of them weave together, creating a shawl of new beginnings that wraps mother nature and sunshine together, blending them, creating such awe inspiring sight that unannounced; you find yourself surrounded in lush green leaves that almost seem to reach out towards you as you pass by, soft grasses slip against your heels blessing your pathway while young woodland creatures slowly open their eyes, adopting the look of curiosity as you go on with your day.
For a northerner at heart- I am accustomed to having a six month winter- so this “early” peek at spring is rather exciting. Mother Nature is still masked by her coat, umbrella, wool socks and gum boots down here, but every once in a while if you’re patient; Mother Nature tips her umbrella up, allowing you to indulge in her beauty as her silky emerald green eyes search the skies for her lover; Sunshine.
I am excited for the blossoming of the trees, for I have been told the cherry tree outside my bedroom blossoms graciously. Like a child waiting for her birthday, Christmas, or mother’s special dessert, I wait in angst- peeking out everyday at the cherry tree watching the little birds play tag amongst the branches chirping, tweeting, singing sweet melodies as if they themselves are celebrating each ray of sunshine. Knowing that soon Mother Nature and Sunshine will be together once again.


Artistic Frustration.

Is it better to be frustrated with your artwork rather than give up completely on it?

The one thing besides my antidepressants that I have at close reach that keeps me from slipping off the tracks is my art.

But when my pen graces virgin paper- I feel like I am destroying, wasting time, and really just doodling like a fucking eight year old.

There is a reason I do not allow people to see my sketch books.

It’s like a weather report of how much my depression is affecting me.

Right now its cold, damp, and sleeting sideways, with a risk of insomnia, self-doubt, and struggle.


Jesus, I’m miserable.


Grumpy Cats Like Afghans.

I live with Depression and Irritable Bowel Syndrome.

Let me define those for you:

Depression –  Taken from http://www.mayoclinic.com/health/depression/DS00175

“Depression is a medical illness that causes a persistent feeling of sadness and loss of interest. Depression can cause physical symptoms, too.

Also called major depression, major depressive disorder and clinical depression, it affects how you feel, think and behave. Depression can lead to a variety of emotional and physical problems. You may have trouble doing normal day-to-day activities, and depression may make you feel as if life isn’t worth living.

More than just a bout of the blues, depression isn’t a weakness, nor is it something that you can simply “snap out” of. Depression is a chronic illness that usually requires long-term treatment, like diabetes or high blood pressure. But don’t get discouraged. Most people with depression feel better with medication, psychological counseling or other treatment.”

I have been working hard- with the support of family, friends, and my doctor to manage my depression. Some days I truly feel like maybe I have beaten the monster.
Today, the monster fought tooth and nail, left me defenseless and infuriated, and won.
But wait,
it gets better-
here is my other monster

“Irritable bowel syndrome (IBS) is a common disorder that affects your large intestine (colon). Irritable bowel syndrome commonly causes cramping, abdominal pain, bloating gas, diarrhea and constipation. Despite these uncomfortable signs and symptoms, IBS doesn’t cause permanent damage to your colon.

Most people with IBS find that symptoms improve as they learn to control their condition. Only a small number of people with irritable bowel syndrome have disabling signs and symptoms.

Fortunately, unlike more-serious intestinal diseases such as ulcerative colitis and Crohn’s disease, irritable bowel syndrome doesn’t cause inflammation or changes in bowel tissue or increase your risk of colorectal cancer. In many cases, you can control irritable bowel syndrome by managing your diet, lifestyle and stress.”

This isn’t new to my life, but I am getting so worn down and my confidence honestly has seen better days. I am frustrated with myself mostly, disappointed, and just plain confused. There are days where being in my body is hell. Being in yoga school is simply magical, but not when you’re running to the staff bathroom constantly [staff bathroom is just one toilet with a door, room spray, and a lock. A blessing in my eyes] and wincing in pain when you spend all day sitting on the floor and doing asanas. I have the kind of IBS where it is both diarrhea and Constipation, alternating as my body wishes.

Some days are a real struggle for me between the IBS pain and embarrassment, and the stress and depressed thoughts. I can really be a pathetic excuse for a youthful glowing 18-year-old.

I just had my mid term exams for my Anatomy and Physiology class, I am at the point that I have IBS flare ups after I eat anything no matter how gluten-free dairy free etc. you can get it.

It seems my body likes the snowball effect.

I get stress/anxiety attack/sad/etc.-I get depressed I get ill- I get depressed because I am ill- more illness- more depression.

My depression and my IBS stems from stress often. So I saw this challenge on the horizon when I enrolled for this college course.

But no matter how prepared I was- with my colon relaxing drugs, strict diet, sleeping pills etc. It still feels like you’ve been thrown against a brick wall, face first, the bricks are sharp, skin tearing, cold, and unforgiving.

Running into “brick walls” happens often.

I am not saying no one else suffers from stress, but I just feel like I should be able to handle this by now. I was diagnosed with the IBS when I was 16, and the depression is being hog tied by the antidepressants. My TMJ headaches I have a pill for that, My Acid reflux- pill for that too, and I take a probiotic just to make my cocktail a larger handful every evening, don’t forget Birth control to help control my IBS and anxiety around that whole situation. God. My night table is a pharmacy.

I started my elimination diet up again. As my body confidence level is a joke. I never was a stick, I resembled more of a stump when I was in that awkward childhood fat stage. Not that I want to be super skinny, but when you feel heavy, dense, bloated, and just disgusted at your own body you want to have some control back. I respect my body, but I am at the point where I stare at myself in a full length mirror, this IBS, this bloated pain, is just so apparent. Its ugly, its distorting, it’s not sexy. I have begun to hate my body for it. I am self conscious, and it’s not like you can take off your abdomen, its permanent, its right there, up front and centre. So when I am having a sick day (which is almost everyday these days) walking by any form of a mirror is avoided. I never set up my mat near the wall mirrors in the yoga studio if I can help it. Putting on jeans is avoided, the pain in my lower large intestine sometimes makes wearing jeans difficult. IBS makes being feminine and sexy difficult. IBS, makes functioning in general difficult.

I just don’t want to be in pain constantly.

So when I was beginning to cry during pranayama practice this morning because of the discomfort, I really felt ashamed.

You can manage IBS, and obviously I haven’t found out how to do that yet.

I was pissed at myself, because I don’t want to miss out on anything because of my health issues.

I felt frustrated, let down, and embarrassed by myself.

I wanted to go home, crawl into bed, and disappear from this world. Maybe dream of an alternate world, where Sally didn’t have to take 7+ pills a day, where Sally didn’t have to constantly remind herself that depressed thoughts are a no no. I am guessing that is where I will also ride unicorns, drink beer, and eat as much cheesy pasta as I want.

Meaning- that will never happen.

I told my instructor that I needed to go home, but she insisted I stay.

I understand the whole bucking up and dealing with it to get my education. But frankly- I knew where I needed to be, and that was home, in bed, hidden from life’s stresses.

How am I supposed to concentrate when in the midst of a lecture, sitting is a no-go because my colon has decided to have a spasm. Nature doesn’t call in this situation. Nature shows up unexpected, giving no fucks whether you double over dry heaving while your colon literally feels like it’s being shredded. If you have ever looked inside a Pike’s mouth, see all those teeth? Okay, turn the pike inside out and then drag if back and forth inside your intestines.

Feels like hell; Doesn’t it?

I am blessed that IBS isn’t ruining my colon- I’ve got the colonoscopy, done the research, etc.

IBS is just ruining me, thats all.

So when I was laying there on my mat, crying in silence and begging my colon to hang in there, I began looking at the clock.

8 hours to go…

7 hours 45 minutes to go…

7 hours to go…

when I got to 6 hours to go- it reminded me of high school, counting down the hours, just wanting to get the hell out of there.

I did not pay good money to do that in a class.

For god’s sake how old am I ?

Self deprecating thoughts come flooding in.

I hate when I feel weak.

I hate giving up.

I hate this.

4th panicked bathroom visit I noticed someone else is in the staff washroom.


I’m screwed.

So I got back to my mat, tenderly sat down, and by this time I have no extra energy to plaster a smile on my face anymore.

For years, I have been told “listen to your body”

well – it was time to go home.

I found it hard to approach my instructors. I found I felt ashamed, and undeserving of getting the “permission” that I needed to be excused from class. I had never missed a weekend class in this course. Ever.

I missed one evening Thursday class when I was recovering from my wisdom teeth extractions. But from September to December- that is it.

Maybe it’s just the depression masking how I interpret things but I walked away from that situation feeling like my instructors doubted my dedication, and really were sick and tired of my “whinings”

I myself doubted my actions.

There is no protocol it seems when it comes to have a chronic illness not to mention a mental illness that has a risk of interfering in one’s schooling.

Is it a disability? I don’t know.

I was asked for a doctor’s note if I am going to keep missing classes.


I can do that, and I can get excused absences for the 2 classes I have missed.

actually one and a half. since I stayed until noon today.

But I left feeling as if I did something wrong, which caused more stress, more pain, I am pretty sure my face was in a attractive grimace as I sat on the bus, putting my bag on the seat beside me, because frankly bus etiquette was not my top priority at the moment.

I am pretty sure I looked like a grumpy cat…


I don’t want this to define me, I don’t want this to impact my life in a negative way, I want to win this struggle, I want to conquor.

I descended from fucking bad ass vikings- it’s not in my blood to be labeled as weak.

You never heard of weak vikings, never heard of a viking who whined and complained when all they wanted to do was roll into the fetal position on their yoga mat, you know what they did? they powered through, and got shit done.

Why can’t I do that?

Usually I can grin and bear it- but today I just felt…


I don’t know, emotional? extra depressed? Who knows.

Vikings also raped a lot of women and destroyed a lot of stuff. But right now if I viking was to take a yoga class, I am guessing they wouldn’t hijack and burn the yoga studio down…

I would like to say “no fucks were given today”

But I didn’t really feel that until I was in bed with my blanket over my head, blocking out reality.

Once I finally comforted and cooed my mind- reassuring myself that yes, health first, education second, I could finally doze off and forget about the pain temporarily.

I never liked “giving up” but in today’s situation I have to keep reminding myself that taking care of myself is not giving up.

I am still figuring this out, maybe I am missing some important pieces to my puzzle, but this is my journey.

Just happens to be that my journey includes a lot of bathroom breaks.


Denying homesickness only makes it worse.

I once felt sheer hatred towards this town.

I once felt so alone in this town.

I once felt I was slowly dying in this town.

I once felt that I would never, ever, come back.

The thing with depression. When you hit rock bottom, you feel like you are at the bottom of a dark, damp and cold pit crawling on your hands and knees, stumbling blindly amongst your worst fears and thoughts that reside in the darkness, and to make it worse you are chilled to the bone, your naked and shaking, with a heavy sopping wet wool blanket engulfing you. It’s scratchy, smells like wet dog, and is the only thing you can find in that pit to keep you comfort. The blanket makes it hard to move forward, for you keep stumbling, scraping the palms of your hands raw on the unforgiving rocks, slowly scraping away your sanity, your strength, your soul.

That is what depression feels like when you are truly at your worst.

For me, I felt like an injured fox, cornered in a dirty cage unable to fight back, fight for my life, when I was stuck in this town.

And when I say “stuck” I mean I was still attending High School.

Even though my family surrounded me with love, support, and fought for me to see the best doctors that little voice in my head, like a knife slicing through innocent soft skin, kept reminding me.

You are alone.

Some people don’t understand how this mental illness works.

You slowly surrender to this voice in your head, could be more than one voice, could be just a feeling, but you’re hostage in your own body.

The person you used to be slowly fades into just a faint memory, while your body slowly shuts down.

It is downright scary to be a witness to your own mental breakdown.

And I can only imagine what my family went through as I slowly slipped into a very very deep pit.

I can never repay my family for what they did.

They never shunned me,

never stopped trying,

never gave up on me,

even when I felt like that was the only option.

My younger brother used to see me curled up on the couch crying, and he would bring his colourful blankets from his bedroom to keep me warm as I zoned out watching tv.

My mother and father never left me- wether it be checking in on me, taking me to the hospital, dealing with a suicidal daughter, or forcing me to eat when I refused to eat.

My older brother was away at university for the worst of my depression- but when he came home- his hugs-still on my list of favourite things.

My family accepted my weakness, and slowly brought me back to life with the help of multiple counsellors, drugs and doctors.

My family made me realize; this weakness, that I had hidden for so long.

Was one of my biggest strengths.

When I moved away from this town- I felt liberated.

It was a major step in my therapy to leave what I thought was sucking the life out of me.

I felt like a bird, a bird breaking free from the cold metal cage, shattering the locks and bolts, and never looking back.

North Vancouver, where I live now has many positives.

Art class is going well,

Yoga school is life changing,

But a month or two ago I began to feel homesick.

As soon as the sadness hit me I boot stomped that emotion deep down inside me.

Me? Miss Fort?


But day after day,

each struggle became harder,

and slowly I realized what homesickness really was.

I missed the safety, the sacred space, the nest I had up north filled with unconditional love, and mom’s cooking.

My letters and phone calls home made it apparent I missed my family.

A lot.

My Mother and Father’s encouragement trickling through the phone as I broke down in tears helped me through the last few weeks.

After my wisdom tooth episode, my body decided it was time to heal

But as usual it made a big fuss about it and it wasn’t until I got home that I truly felt better.

Funny how subconsciously my body knew where it was meant to be.

Sunday night after class I took the skytrain to the airport

Ever since my mom had booked me a flight home, my heart warmed at the thought of being in an arm’s reach of my mother, father, brother, and family friends.

I made it through the mid-term exam, the anatomy quiz, the workshops, the lectures, and before I knew it I was speed walking toward the skytrain station. I would have ran, but my bags filled with yoga homework, clothes for cold weather and sugar cookies I had made the day before for my family weighed me down.

I was going home.

For the first time since I moved away.

I was going to see my two dogs who last time I saw was in the rear view mirror driving away at a kennel when I drove down to Vancouver with my mother in the summer.

I was going to sleep in my bed, stay in my room, shower in my shower,

be surrounded with familiarity.

My soul healed just at the thought of this.

As I tugged off my muk luks and emptied my pockets at security I became more and more excited.

What was the first thing I was going to do when I got home?

Raid the fridge?

Fall into bed?

Snuggle my puppies?

Sitting at my gate I chatted with the gentlemen sitting near me

We were all heading up north

All for different reasons

All from different backgrounds

Fort St. James, Burns Lake, or Vanderhoof,

We all knew where each other was going

That first feeling of community,

from two strangers.

I smiled to myself as I boarded,

I pulled out my mittens and adjusted my poppy,

turned off my cell phone, and buckled in to my window seat.

Said goodbye to the city lights of the night

and for the first time in a very long time I was happy to be on the plane, I wasn’t fantasizing about missing my flight, hiding in the bathroom as they announced my name over the sound system, or closing my eyes and trying to get this over with as soon as possible.

For the whole 50 to 60 minutes I chatted with one of the gentlemen from the gate

We soon became friends.

It was a nice way to start off my time home.

Arriving at the Prince George airport I could see my parents pressed up against the glass of the windows waving, I couldn’t help but smile.

I didn’t get far into the airport before I was engulfed in a mom hug then soon a dad hug and was ushered out to the car- to some yummy dinner!

The two-hour drive home was filled with chit-chat, laughter, and catching up.

It felt different,

I don’t know how to explain it exactly-  I was “visiting”

Something I had been wondering what it would be like for so long- to visit my parents, like my parents do with their own.

First thing I did when I got home was drop my bags and bear hug my two dogs Boo and Humphrey. It felt so good to hold them, the feel of their wet noses sniff and nuzzle my face, their tails wagging, their bodies leaning into me so eventually I was flat on the ground in puppy heaven.

Best. Anti-Depressant. Ever.

I then got a tour of the fridge.

Mother had gone shopping for her IBS daughter- gluten dairy free glory cluttered the shelves of the fridge. The fridge was practically a treasure chest of sally proof food.

Walking into my bedroom I noticed my room had been cleaned, flannel sheets had been put on my bed, and extra blankets lay folded at the foot of the bed.

Mom had lotions, shampoo, conditioner, a towel, and cozy sweaters for me to borrow while I’m here.

Even wool socks sat neatly in a pile in my room.

As I went to look for a toothbrush- I turned around and found what else mom had put into my room for my arrival.

Let’s just say…My family-

loves Halloween.

My mom knew I was sad to have missed celebrating with her, so she decided to leave some of the decorations up for me to see.

Of course she put the shrieking midget that pulls its face off to reveal its skull and bulging eyeballs in my room. I giggled to myself as it howled with pain and grumbled about brains as I pressed what I thought was the off button.

Little did I know that when I reentered the room- that I didn’t turn off the creature, so when it shrieked for a second time- it really did get me.

This was about 1am in the morning…

I dragged the monster up to mom’s bedroom begging her to turn it off.

You got me I admit, and for good reasons I haven’t looked under my bed yet.

Once the adrenaline worn down to a mellow whisper, I peeled back the soft sheets and slipped into  my bed.

I had forgotten how comfy this bed was, how plush and magical it seemed compared to my bed back in the city.

I slept until 1 in the afternoon that day.

I woke up with a smile, and have been doing so since that Monday morning.

This is what I was “homesick” for.

It truly should be called “familysick”

But it just doesn’t have the same jingle.

This is one of the views from my home.


Country Mouse Adventures. – Lonsdale Quay Market; North Vancouver – River Market; New Westminster

Google maps are an amazing thing. As well as texting Translink (33333). 

I set off to Lonsdale Quay with a purpose. Cellphone keychains that jingle.

As well as to see the market. And what a beautiful market it is, I love markets, the food, the shops, the people, the music, the smells, all of it. Each and every market I have been too has had its own personality you could say.

I found the cell phone key chains- 


and wandered around outside-


after wandering around some more, looking for employment options I soon hopped back on the bus and headed home only to be sidetracked and got out at Park and Tillford to look for more employment options.

No luck,

so I took a path home that winds alongside a creek where you can find many happy dogs frolicking. 

Thoughts racing about lack of money and lack of employment I soon stroll into a pub… again either no one is hiring or not old enough. even though I look old enough. Damn you government and your liquor serving policies.

I then step into a little restaurant called The Pantry at the Holiday Inn and score an interview.

Lets hope this goes well.

I go home and pass out on my bed. preparing for my next adventure.

The River Market.

A friend decides to come with me, choosing to drive he cuts my hour long transit ride into a 20 minute or so car ride. What an awesome guy friend.

We get there around 6 so only parts of the market are open, like the pubs.

I have this craving to try pub food. But that is going to have to wait I guess. 

Walking around, watching tug boats, and admiring the beautiful flower gardens, I soon realize how lucky I am to have moved here. To live near the ocean is a very special experience. 


My dinner consisted of pomegranate gelato- with memories of italy floating through my mind. 

We ended our little adventure with a picture near the boats.

Until next time- 



Country mouse is granted a challenge from Cousin Linda


I don’t know why I am portraying myself as a country mouse…

I grew up watching “The country mouse and the city mouse” on VHS at my Nanny’s house. Yes I had a “Nanny” and a brilliant one at that.Maybe that is what has influenced me to compare myself to little mice in clothes with a non-existent budget for traveling. (I am jealous that they can just scurry onto a boat to Ireland, WHAT IS UP WITH THAT.

Moving on.

I dedicate this post to my charming, vivacious cousin Linda. Linda was bitten by the travel bug just like I was, but she has learnt the skill of riding a bike in traffic, which frankly I am terrified to attempt that in Vancouver. She’s pretty rad you could say for she has given me a challenge, that I must admit is both exciting and daunting at the same time.

Sort of like some wizard giving a knight a quest into the wild lands of god knows what to come out with a shining prize.

For me, that will be city confidence.

Which I am in great need of.

So I already failed, because my first test of mettle was today; which frankly in my comfort of my bed at 7am I decided today was the day I will break into my new art supplies. For an artist this is an exciting time, one that you set aside hours of uninterrupted time of doodling, playing, and simply relishing the fact that now you’re an “adult” and you can do what you damn well want to. So I drew portraits and dabbled with techniques.

So. Tomorrow, I will start.

My first mission is to go to New Westminster to the River Market.

here is the link to the website 🙂 http://rivermarket.ca/