Forty by Forty (40x40) - Day 40

In 40 days, I turn 40 years old. Although I'm not especially bothered by turning 40 (if any birthday was hard, it was either #18 or #39), I kind of thought it'd be fun to try and do 40 things (a thing a day) on and before the 'big day'. I'm going to send my thirties off in as big a style as I can...

So what will I strive to do? Well, I can't travel too much (my ability to drive has been impeded) and I won't be doing anything crazy (like bungee jumping or skydiving) so in the grand scheme of awesome, it may only register as a “6” - perhaps even just a “5” - but it'll be my 5 and I'm going to enjoy every minute of it.

You can follow along here on Barefoot Deliberations or find me on Instagram or Twitter. I will also be posting publicly on Facebook (I will specifically open up the 40x40 Facebook status updates and will Tweet  links to them). The notable exception is the one item which stipulates "24 hours with no Facebook, Instagram or Twitter". I likely will still blog about it though - not totally decided!

Here, in a not yet determined order, are the first five things of the 40 things I aim to complete...

1. Finish & share my 40x40 list!
2. Sign my organ donor card!
3. Make a duct tape wallet for TroubleMaker (aka Brennan, who, with each year, outgrows his toddler moniker)
4. Store away our winter clothing & footwear
5. Make a kid summer "bucket list"!

Exciting, I know! Can't you just wait to follow along? Each Wednesday, I'll post the next five things on my list.

The Power of Music (my thank you to the Northern Pikes)

Years ago I read about the ability for music to heal; whether it be from depression or physical illness, I understood the connection between the two. In my teens, as a young, amateur musician, I felt the importance of that when dealing with my own issues. What I've come to realize in the past ten months is that music can also be a measure of the physical level of healing – from a basic biological healing to a more immeasurable brain/body connection.

Shyly snapped picture

In early August 2012, I learned my favourite band, the Northern Pikes, were set to play a small theatre in a suburb of Edmonton in early 2013. Feeling nostalgic, I immediately bought two great seats and started to flip through their catalogue of music. 

My happy thoughts of nostalgia were soon to be redirected inward as later in the month, I lost most of the use and strength in my right hand and arm due to a degenerative and rheumatic condition in my neck. The pain was extreme and my usual active life was reduced to almost nothing. House bound and in continual pain, my demeanor changed (enter FrankenB!tch), my health deteriorated and I found myself off work and facing another spinal surgery. Depression set in quickly and I was angry and hostile more frequently than I'd like to admit.

By Christmas, I'd began to lose feeling in my feet and the pain and weakness spread to my left hand and arm. Even more dejected and no closer to getting a surgery date, I settled in for a long, painful wait.

The man I'd leave my husband for (haha?)

February rolled around and we nearly forgot about the concert. Thankfully, I received an email reminder and we set about trying to decide if we should even go. The idea of spending a couple hours locked in a chair didn't seem like something I was ready to undertake! In the end, we hired a sitter – had the sitter cancel the morning of and again faced the decision of whether or not we should go. Mid morning, we decided and arranged for our niece to come and off we went!

As show time arrived, I sat in the audience mesmerized by just the instruments on the stage. The lights dimmed and my heard pounded. I grabbed my husband and I felt like a seventeen year old kid transported back in time to February 1991 when I saw the Pikes in concert the first time. When the boys walked out on the stage, I grabbed my husband, again, and professed my undying love for Bryan Potvin. The pain was erased, my body felt new and I was in the happiest head space I'd been in for six months.

Sitting in the little theatre, hearing the band play all the amazing songs they recorded, hearing them banter with one another and the audience changed my outlook and mindset. I knew as the concert drew to a close that I could survive this, I could get better, I could and would get past this health problem. The months of nothingness, depression and the loss of interest in everything had taken their tole but seeing the band I'd loved, admired and fawned over during my teen years spurred me forward in ways I never expected.

I came home energized and renewed. I dug out all my Northern Pikes CD's, ordered one I didn't have, got Bryan's solo work and even downloaded my first Itunes music (It's Good Life is not an easy CD to find – for under $100, that is)! Putting all the music in regular rotation, I started meditating to it, letting my imagination wander during the workouts I did with my physio therapist and letting my imagination again run free during my many sleepless nights.

Bass playing genius

All that beautiful music brought my creativity to life and I started writing again, something I'd not done in nearly twenty years (the obvious exception being my blog writing). In thirty two days, I'd completed my first novel length story (another first, although I'd written many, many stories in my youth, I'd never finished one) and had started on a second story.

It was about then I also decided to pick up my guitar – and this really is what the whole point of this tale is.

I'd played tons of music when I was younger, writing my own songs, playing in small bands – music was my life. As it does, life changed, I changed and my music took a back burner, eventually becoming a non-existent part of my life. In 2008, my husband bought me a new guitar and I started playing again. Due to many reasons, I didn't play much, but after the concert, hearing the music, I knew I needed to pick it up again.

Initially, my sessions were five minutes long, it's all I could manage as the pain was constant. Each day, for five or ten minutes, I played. Strumming the seven chords I could remember. Playing scales, playing bits of songs I remembered learning twenty years before.

The months of pain medications, neural inhibitors coupled with the weakness and loss of use of my arms, left me feeling clumsy and uncoordinated. 

A Google search found me the (sheet) music for Hopes Go Astray and I started playing along (fudging the Bm chord because it's not one of my seven). My playing was marred with missed chord changes, dropped (guitar) picks and muscle spasms that left me two lines behind but I tried and tried and by the week before my surgery date, I could play all the way through, although my strum patterns were often erratic and out of sync and I rarely finished the song with my pick in my hand.

On May 6, 2013, I had an anterior cervical discectomy and fusion at C5 to C7. This surgery was to erase all the problems of the past nine months. It was to get me off the meds that scrambled my brain, it was to restore my life, get me back to work, get me feeling and behaving like me. Two weeks post op and I wasn't feel particularly optimistic about the success of the surgery. The pain remained, the lack of coordination seemed ever present, the headaches hadn't dissipated, the loss of feeling hadn't gone away.

Best Canadian rock band - EVER

Feeling discouraged, I sat down after seeing my husband and son off on a bike ride and stared at my guitar. Did I dare even try? Did I need more proof I wasn't as good as I hoped? What if it hurt really badly? Could I make it worse?

Before I could think more about it, I went and got the guitar, plugged my Ipod into my ears and dug out the music. The song started and I readied myself, wondering what would happen when the first verse started.

Closing my eyes, I let the music transport me; I let the music take control and I found I could play! In fact, I could play well, much better than I had three weeks before! My strum patterns were as close to perfect as I could hope for, I experienced only minor muscle spasms and I did not drop the pick! Just to make sure it wasn't a fluke, I did it again and I did it even better!

After fishing the pick out of the body of the guitar, I realized that although I've been very wary of whether or not the surgery has corrected what it was supposed to, the Pikes music was a fantastic measure of the level of my healing! I've still got a long road ahead of me but having this tangible reminder of how far I've come has done wonders for pushing me further in my belief that I will get better!

When I reread this, I sound eerily like a crazy stalker lady and in some ways, I am. I've let a group of strangers, people I don't know, into a very personal part of my life and invited them to be an integral part of my healing process. Their music was as instrumental to my health care as my surgeon, physical therapist or my husband. A unwitting fan club cheering me on, letting me know I could get past it, I could get through it, I could get better – and when I didn't know if I could, I could get lost in their music.

So thank you, Don, Bryan, Jay and (former member) Merl for creating the music that made the past few months bearable and helped me measure how far I've come in my recovery. Thank you, thank you, thank you!

PS I've been debating whether or not I should share this post - it's very personal and it does make me sound like a crazy stalker lady. I am, but that't not really the point. I'm just intensely shy when it comes to sharing my feelings and if the best band in the world got wind of crazy old me, I'm sure I'd never be allowed to see them in concert again so don't tell them (unless it's going to get me a marriage proposal from a certain guitarist). ;)

PSS I'm kidding. Really. No, I'm not but now I'm deflecting and don't feel nearly as weird.
PSSS In case you are still reading and care, all pictures property of Barefoot Deliberations, 2013. They aren't great but I took them and am of the generation where snapping photos in a concert used to get you kicked out.

NaBloPoMa: Hot Topics

I have, as a rule, tried to keep my personal beliefs on certain topics out of my blog. My beliefs are mine and I do not expect anyone to agree with me - that's why beliefs are opinions and not facts.

That said, this morning, upon logging into my Facebook account, one of my favourite politician's (doesn't that sound like an oxymoron) status was

Now I'm getting guff from the other side because I said I don't like abortion. Does anyone who's ProChoice, as I am, really LIKE abortion? Justin Trudeau

I do not know the full context of the conversation and nor does it matter (to me). What got me thinking were the the fact that the Federal leaders of this country would take the stance that because one supported abortion, one would there for like and support the procedure. And because Mr. Trudeau said he didn't LIKE abortion, he's being criticized because how can his dislike of abortion still translate his support of a woman's right to chose. As I said before, beliefs are opinions so they don't matter but I wondered how common it was for ProChoicer's to LIKE abortion. Would it be possible? Should it be possible?

Regardless of one's opinion (pro choice or not), I always thought and assumed that abortion was not a happy thing to undertake. No one should like abortion, no one seeks out pregnancy so that they can have an abortion. It is an invasive, medical procedure.

As it stands, I think it is completely rational and logical to be ProChoice and not like abortion. The two do not go hand in hand and nor should they. It has been decided that part of living in Western, Americanized society is that we are free to make choices for ourselves - whether or not anyone else agrees with them. These freedoms do not only apply to this topic.

It is likely a circular argument, much like abortion itself and in the end, no one really wins so is it worth arguing about anyway?


PS I am in no way wanting to start or engage in a debate. This post is simply an observation.

Light a candle and help them find their way home...

It has been an emotional day - battles were fought - some were won and others saw no winners.

Ryan Nadeau is still missing and his wife's desk sits empty. Our office is filled with hushed whispers and clucking tongues and although everyone on the floor knows, no one speaks of it. Ryan's brother in law has been at work and although his mood is fair - an inexplicable sadness still falls over him like a grey storm cloud.



What can we do?

Essentially, nothing. Posters are circulating and are being posted in our city and beyond. Articles are being written and news broadcasts carry his photo and interviews with Amanda. Keeping his face out there, his story current is all anyone can do at this point in time. They family has done and continues to do everything they can. Friends, coworkers and strangers are uniting for a common cause: bringing Ryan home.

We all ask, how does a person just disappear? How can a person cease to exist? No trace. No record. Erased.

I don't know all the details of Ryan's disappearance but I understand how people can be lost, even when they are right beside you.

Today, after a few of us returned from posting Ryan's missing person posters around the campus, I had an email from a friend of a friend. She and I had been in contact because our mutual friend, Nire, has been on a slow and steady decline into mental illness. Or perhaps it was a rapid decline and we just didn't see it. Or we saw it and pretended it wasn't there.

I've known for a while something was "off" with Nire. I've known her for 23 years. She's been my best friend and big sister, confident and support network. Three years ago, as I was embroiled in being a new mother, something went seriously wrong for her. As her story started to unfold, it sounded like she'd found love. I was unsure if it was reciprocated but as time passed, it seemed to have potential.

But things changed. Our conversations began to get muddled - she'd speak of one thing and the next time, she'd repeat the tale but with a different ending or middle... Then the object of her affection became a dark, seemingly heartless jerk who was toying with her heart and emotions. Not being clear with her, sending her mixed messages. Professing feelings but hiding from her.

Slowly things slid further. Messages, conspiracies and accusations of everyone betraying her. It was nonsense and ramblings of a crazy person. I remember telling her that it sounded crazy and couldn't be possible. She said she realized how it sounded but she was certain it was fact.

I'd speak to her again a few weeks later and she sounded like she'd come back to reality. The next conversation with her was again, nonsense.



I ask myself now why I didn't act then. I knew there was a problem - something was wrong... I knew I was only one friend of many - could I be imaging things? Why did no one else seemed concerned by her behaviour? What could I do? She was holding her job and although she'd been more-or-less demoted, she admitted an addiction to Facebook caused some issues at work. Her son didn't seem concerned. Maybe I was the crazy one?

More time passed and then odd emails started appearing from her. Accusing things - odd statements like "Corrie, quit fighting, she's my mother". When questioned, she said several coworkers were standing outside her cubicle talking about 'the game' (what she'd started to call the entire conspiracy) and she'd found out a long time ago that the only way to end these games was to email someone else involved.

I contacted her older brother. He was useless. Absolutely and utterly useless. I understand they aren't close. I understand they live two different lives. But as a family member and human being, shouldn't he have been concerned?

I contacted three of her other friends. One called me back and yelled at me. Literally reduced me to tears. One offered help, but didn't know what to do and her other "old time friend" was concerned but didn't know what to do either.

I called around to different agencies looking for help. Short of the police or an adult crisis unit, I was powerless to do anything. I had resigned myself to just sit tight, talk to her son and wait.

Her son said everything was "fine" and that his Mom had just been really lonely. At that point, I decided that perhaps I should just be her friend - listen to her, support her and try to steer her towards some professional help (which I had been doing since I first realized that something was wrong). I knew that everyone else in her life had been pushed out of it because they all told her she was crazy and needed help. I knew that I was one of the only people left and I could get her to talk and as crazy as she sounded and as draining as it was, I knew that I had to keep in contact with her in case things went south.

And as I spoke to her step mother today and to the mutual friend, I realized just how easy it is to disappear. To vanish and not even have anyone notice...

So tonight, my head is filled with thoughts. Of Ryan and his family, of Nire and her family. Of the people wandering the streets, lost - no matter what the cause.

Let's all light a candle and help at least one of them find their way home.

52 Week Challenge: Exposing yourself (and the skeleton in the closet)

Each week, I really enjoy surfing all the blogs of those participating in the Organizing Junkie's 52 Week Challenge. I'm always amazed to see that there are so many people who are continually overcome by their stuff and, like me, are working on getting out from under it all!

For Week 19, I had to call in extra resources... See, I know myself too well and I know there are several good words that describe me: creative, fun, silly, kind, passionate, dedicated. But there are others too - like scatterbrained and disorganized. I don't like those words. Sure, I always joke about my piles and my chaotic filing system and I've purchased something twice forgetting that I had already purchased one but couldn't find it when I needed it (ask me how many large sized bias tape makers I have).

I want to be organized and I want my world to fall neatly into line and stay there for more than five minutes!

Participating in the 52 Week Challenge has made me see a few things. First, I like to think I thrive with chaos around me. I've learned that I'm (more often than not) out of control because my environment is out of control.

It's like the old saying 'contempt breeds contempt' - chaos breeds chaos and one does not thrive: one adapts and learns to exist and survive in the world they created around them. To do anything less would be tantamount to admitting defeat.



I am defeated.

I've also learned that my stuff bordered on hoarding. I'm fairly certain that my entire house would like like my office (if I lived alone). I would just keep piling more and more stuff until I couldn't dig my way out with a forklift!

BUT noticed I said "bordered" - not "borders".

Sometime in the past three or four years I quit buying stuff (mostly). But generally speaking, I'm getting better. I realized that those things do not make me happier or feel better nor do they add any value to my life. But I've spent over 12 years getting everything I have because I really tied my sense of happiness and well being to my possessions. I became so overwhelmed that I just stopped dealing with it. I've moved things around and re stacked the piles but I've never really dealt with all the issues tied to it, in part because I don't know where to start.

This week, I had the opportunity to attend an Organizing seminar with a local professional organizer. I've gathered information from the wonderful online communities and I think hearing it in person helped it click. I've also gone back and read many of Laura's older posts (I easily succumb to obsession).

Quite simply, my office, as it exists now, is more than I can do.



So, armed with a little knowledge (enough to be a little dangerous, anyway) I set out to use the PROCESS and a couple of the tricks from the seminar.

First, I really took a look at Laura's PROCESS. We are renovating the basement, I've spent many hours looking and planning (storage) solutions to my sewing and design studio clutter problem. I've pictured a place for everything and room to grow. I also decided know that I could not possibly keep everything I have and fit it into the new space.

North Elevation

West Elevation



This is what I've allowed myself for storage. The nearly 250 metres of fabric, the hundreds of spools of thread, miles of ribbon, cutting rulers, pins, books, magazines (don't ask me about my button collection) has just this much space to exist in along with the crochet supplies, scrabooking stuff, clay modeling and acrylic painting supplies. No storage solution would allow me to keep everything and keep it even a little organized. Trust me, I tried and tried to get everything to fit but I do believe it would be physically impossible for me to squish the current 160 sq ft of clutter and stuff into 14' feet by 18" deep space I will have. Did I mention I also do interior design jobs on the side so I have a sample library too (of paint chips, product guides and laminate samples)?

So, I planned. Then I 'removed' my stuff from the space - well, sort of. The room is adjacent to our main living space so there is no way I could dump put everything out there. Some of the big stuff is in the living room - at least the huge stuff that I can't contend with. As my husband said, I need space to work at the clutter!

And this is where I began to employ some of the tips I learned at the seminar.

First, remember I said I didn't know where to start? Well, this week I learned about "White sheeting" and not biting off more than I can chew. I knew from the get-go my office was going to be a struggle so the White sheeting idea seemed a good one. I used two table clothes to 'hide' part of my room.

This allowed me to focus on one, small manageable piece of the room. Then I applied "containerize" - but not in the typical way. I got boxes and labeled them "Keep" and "Give-away". I also had a garbage bag and a blue bag (for recycling). Then I set to work and I was ruthless.


The Purge Pile


The Undecided Pile

And I know it doesn't look like much, but it is a huge start for me and combining the two helpful techniques allowed me to positively focus on one area as well as allowing me to see instant results.



And although I did not find any Mom jeans or medication older than 2002, I did find three large sized bias tape makers, 17 garbage CD's (old software - I was keeping for a craft), several floppy discs and the notebook I kept when I had my back surgery in 2003 - in which I document every detail of the surgery and resulting complications... And I only did 1/4 of the room...

I have Freecycled all my old design resource guides and paint fan decks, 18 gift bags (I have a dozen still saved for my own use) and I have two - two cubic foot boxes filled with craft items to be played forward. I also have about 70 bottles of acrylic paint I'll be passing on to my Painting Princess of a Sister!

It was a good week and very rewarding for me to see actual progress!

Catching up - an apology!

This was one of those weeks - I was struck by my first and hopefully only migraine Monday afternoon... It rendered me powerless and paralyzed. I couldn't think, couldn't see and it hurt to even move a finger. The recipes for the week's menu sit unposted (I'm so sorry about that) and my design post slated for publishing Wednesday didn't get completed. Which also means my Thursday "Green" post isn't done either.

And then I went to log in to my Blog this morning only to find out my password has been changed - thankfully I set up alternative access and was able to recover my account.

So I will delay my design post and my green post and in light of it being Remembrance Day, thanks to our soldiers and our veterans - young, old and no longer with us - for their contribution.

Happy writing,
Brennan's Mom

If he can do it, so can I!

With over 700 kilometres under our belts and TroubleMaker's first trip out of the province, we ventured out of the 'deep South' and back to Drumheller and the Dinosaur Valley.

With Fall approaching, the campgrounds in the area are primarily filled with retirees. In the summer, the more than 1000 spots in the area are packed week in and week out with families and people of all ages. There are many things to do in the area - museums, coal mines, Hoodoos, and live theatre (just to name a few) - it is a paradise for the young and young at heart!

Our first touristy order of business was to see the World's Largest Dinosaur. Standing 86 feet tall and 151 feet long, the dinosaur towers above the town and it certainly caught TroubleMaker's eye! He continually refers to it as "my first dino-store" every time he sees it - in person or in picture! He and his Dad ventured up into the T-Rex's belly and peered out it's mouth. I don't think he quite understood where he was but he emerged happy and carrying to rather large and ferocious dinosaurs of his own so I think the trip was a success!



We poked around town a bit more, went to the Hoodoos and let TroubleMaker catch a nap. Only my kid could sleep in a lifted, soft topped, mud-tired Jeep YJ but never in his own bed...

Today was a new and exciting day and the weather continued to agree with us! Sunny and warm, we headed out to take in more of the sites. Horse Thief Canyon, the Atlas Coal Mine, and the Suspension Bridge were all on our list of things to see. This brings me to the things I've learned for today...

Things I've learned today:
1. Two year olds are scared of nothing - unless you introduce fear (so this means a 36 year old can overcome fears).
2. If a boy finds a ramp - or a thing that might resemble a ramp - and he has a bike, he will inevitably figure out one can be used to ride over or jump the other.

About twenty years ago, my Mom, sister and I were in this area on vacation. If I recall correctly, we ventured out to the Suspension Bridge and promptly turned back around and went some where else. I am not really afraid of heights but the swaying, suspended bridge was a little more than I cared for. Today, my Husband was going to take TroubleMaker across... Until, that is, TroubleMaker grabbed my hand and said "Mommy, you come."

And off we went. Across the swaying, suspended by cables bridge. And he even jumped and pulled me. And the worse was looking behind me (to find out why the bridge was rocking like a rocking chair in the hands of a toddler) to see my darling Husband carrying our 50 pound scaredy cat Schnauzer across! We got to the other side and I was OK! We poked around a bit and went back and I was even able to look around! We got back on terra firma and TroubleMaker wanted to go again...

The dog and I stayed on this side and off he and my husband went.

Brave little TroubleMaker in the middle of the suspension bridge
















The Bleriot Ferry is one of the few operational ferries in Alberta. Built in 1913, it is maintained to this day as a crossing point on Secondary Highway 838 across the Red Deer River. As we rounded the bend, I said to my husband "I can't do it..." I said I'd stay on this side and he could pick me up on the way back. He explained the ferry did not come back. We was going to turn around and allow me to chicken out.

Then I boldly said "NO! Let's go... How bad can it be?"

You know what? We were half way across before I even realized we were moving! So two of my fears overcome all because I didn't want my darling little boy to see his Mom scared.


My brave husband got OUT of the Jeep and took this picture of us!










And as I wrap this up, I wish we could stay here forever. Just capture this moment in time - the muddy shoes, the scraped knees, the little hand on my cheek saying "Mommy, I don't want you to go to work." I wish I could freeze this moment and never have anything change.