Oh Christmas Tree

I was walking through the lobby of The Fairmont Empress Hotel in Victoria yesterday to admire the annual Festival of Trees, a fundraiser for the BC Children's Hospital Foundation and here are just a few of the ornaments that caught my attention.

Queen Victoria had a much safer place on this tree than a couple of other Royals this week. Stay safe Chuck and Camilla.

I really liked this look. Oranges and lemons by a local florist shop.
If your mulled wine needs a bit more tang, just rip 'em off the tree.

 

Shaw Cable Tree

Sometimes you may think your cable is coming to you via Martian but unlikely.

IPA anyone? It's a beer tree by The Spinnakers Brew Pub.

 Look. You can see the forest and the tree (and the owls). I loved these delicate cut-outs.

The child who made this was confused. Is it a bat, an angel or a batangel?

Had to take this photo. Reminded me of a few of my Internet dates from way back. (Minus the wings of course.)

I didn't write this. Honest. I found it sad because I think a little girl may have written it.

I can totally relate to the sentiment, especially the "without any effort" part. But when I was six, I was a beanpole and now that I'm not (understatement) it makes me even sadder.

This champagne was just so close...and yet so damned far!

Got any cool things that make your own tree special?

Sounds Like Salt Spring, Feels Like Gilligan's Island

It was with a heavy heart I packed up from the tiny vacation home, bid farewell to the loving kitty and returned to the hovel a.k.a. my cottage. There's nothing like steppin in the front door of your abode and the first thing you catch in your line of vision is a mouse trap. The only thing worse might be a mousetrap with something in it - or worse yet - only half of something in it. UGHHHH! My trap was empty thank you very much.

Goodbye Kardashian sisters. Goodbye Oprah. Goodbye Trading Spouses. Goodbye drinking coffee in front of the morning news.  I'll have to drag my sorry ass back to deep water aquafit for some reality tv entertainment along the lines of Biggest Losers.

What can I tell you about my exciting life on Salt Spring today? The workspace was totally dead this morning. That was cool because it allowed me to hear about my co-workers recent trip to Vegas. Then, this afternoon it was as if the office became like a miniature Gilligan's Island full of professors and Mary Anne's and too many Gilligans. It was as if a ship of asylum seekers had run aground offshore, all piled into a little dinghy, and rowed madly to reach shore (and our office) but instead of being from Cuba or India they were from Victoria and Ontario.

I'm in a strange mood. Can you tell? At lunch today, over at Volume II books, I spent some time lingering and I heard about a couple of books that might make good presents. The first was called A Vineyard in Tuscany by a guy named Ferenc Mate who it just so happened was the boyfriend of the ex girlfriend who was friends back in 1963 with the wife of the guy behind the counter at this bookstore. Yes. I admit. That sentence should keep you busy for weeks trying to decipher. The book, however, looked really enticing and the woman who came in and bought the only copy raving about the fact that this bookstore would even have such a copy at all said that the writer, Mate, is hilarious.  Perfect for the wine lovers or sommelliers (love that word, use it whenever I can) on your list.

Then, I was watching Oprah and heard about her next Book Club book: It's called Freedom written by one of the rare authors who has made the cover of Time magazine and was actually summoned by Barack Obama for a 20 minute meeting. His name? Jonathan Franzen.  On Oprah's show he described how he writes in an office that has no internet access, no t.v. and is cold. He says it's imperative that the environment is really quiet. That is the only way, he says, that he can really hear his inner dialogue and to quiet his mind enough to begin to get real insights into the struggles he's having and find a place where he understands that his personal struggles transcend himself and are possibly tapping into universal truths which he finds a way to weave into plot on paper. Horrible paraphrasing on my part I'm sure.

The best thing that happened to me today was a beautiful woman of First Nation's descent about 60 year old came into the office. She talked with me, I learned she was a hypnotherapist and she handed me a tiny silver angel with the words Love inscribed on the back.

I'll leave you with that beautiful vision and to think about how it is possible through a simple act of loving kindness to exchange an acknowledgement of spirit with another human being who will then surely remember the feeling that arose from your one simple action, forever.

Trading Places on Salt Spring

Here are my dear friends Tom and Linda leaving their cute little paradise on Salt Spring Island via a Salt Spring Air float plane via YVR to Puerto Vallarta because they found an amazing deal on TravelZoo

The thing is, their going on holiday equals me going on holiday (sort of). They wanted me to stay in their house and look after Fluffy, their cat, whom I love. I love Fluffy. It's the easiest house-sitting/pet sitting gig in the world. Fluffy and I are like this (visualize fingers wrapped around each other) as much as you can be with a cat because, well, we all know about cats. Bon voyage mon amies!

Suddenly, I have a whole house. A full-sized fridge. A freezer. A bed with a box spring. A full oven. It's heaven. I love their house. How long are they gone? ha.

It's as if I've become one with the couch because, hey, they have a big screen T.V. and I no longer have a T.V. and late last night, I hate to admit it, but I tuned into this show called Trading Spouses which just going by the name seems despicable; the lowest of the lowest reality show common denominator.

The thing is, I'm just going to say it once, really quickly: I like watching this show. It's a sociological experiment. They take the most unlikely families and switch the mothers for a week. Think Mormon Mother meets The Kardashians.

Think of yourself. Think of how you live. Put yourself in a situation that you'd absolutely despise and there you have it. It would be like me going to live with a family of 5 guys who all participate in monster truck rallies and them moving into my cabin on Salt Spring surrounded by new agers and healers and having to attend a zillion craft fairs being forced to give up Miller Light for Yerba Mate.  Mother Teresa meet Lady Gaga. It makes for fantastic T.V. (to which I'm sure many of you will disagree wholeheartedly).

Take a couple from Thousand Oaks California both raised in India. The woman has  a Ph.D. and works as a research scientist. The husband is a successful businessman.  A porche and a Hummer are parked in their driveway. They have one daughter. The family the research scientist mom is going to live with lives in the country with horses and participates in medieval re-enactments. Gettin' the picture? One word: Nightmare.

The thing is, the Indian father and the 12 year old daughter are the whiniest, most pampered, materialistic shallow snobs that have ever walked the earth.  They don't ever cook. They only eat out (perhaps so they can complain bitterly about every morsel.) They stay in only the top hotels and the suite they took their "new mom" to was unbelievable but they described it as "trashy".

They take their new mom to Palm Springs where they spend all day wandering from shop to shop and every single time they eat, they have nothing good to say about the food. The new mom showed incredible restraint. Even when she made them some homemade sushi, they were grossed out and wouldn't eat it, digging instead into some ice cream while she had to throw out what she had just made.They're judgmental and rude and the epitome of what's wrong with wealth in the bank accounts of the spiritually unconscious.

It's fantastic to have nice things and to be really comfortable and for your home to be your castle. I'm all for it. In fact, not having that stuff, I am beginning to see, is incredibly motivating.

Trust me,  when it comes to trading places, it's much better to be "Trading up"than "Trading down" but not at the expense of graciousness and gratitude.