NOTHING VENTURED, NOTHING GAINED

It is day 14 of the Ultimate Blog Challenge. I’m living up to my slogan of getting up, dressing up and showing up. I have no business to promote or products to sell. I’ve had my dreams of being an entrepreneur, have you? Let me tell you about them. You’ve heard the one about being a writer. I guess I am one since I’m here tapping out the words. It hasn’t earned any pennies except the ones in my heart. Way back in time, I did invest quite a few pennies trying to sell Mary Kay products. Someone threw me a hook and I bit. I learned the hard and expensive way that I’m not a salesman and I hate selling. I also learned that I’m easily inspired and I’m a good catch. I lost $1500 in the venture.

I did gained in experience and knowledge about people and myself. I was valuable when I was being wooed into buying into the scheme. I had potential. A nurse had a good salary and lots of contacts. I can still see and hear the possibilities clicking in my area manager’s head – a second pink cadillac. But once in, the wooing abruptly stopped. They had little time to help me in establishing my business. They weren’t all like that. Another ‘consultant’ tried to take me under her wings. She was already a success as a Mary Kay consultant and fashion buyer for one of the department stores. Her husband had a small business in town. They were very generous in their help. I gave it a good try. I even took a Dale Carnegie Course to boost my confidence. But when selling tastes like taking medicine, I cut my losses and quit.

I could have tried returning the products but I didn’t. I should have only invested in $750 of inventory but the manager said you have to have the merchandise if you want to sell. That is true but not that much when I knew nothing about the business of selling. I ended up giving away what I could. I found out the people willing to accept them free had been reluctant in hosting parties to help me sell. I had a lot left – makeup for blondes, brunettes and black heads. They were a sore sight reminding me of my huge failure, I chuck them in the dumpster after quite a few years. I am a tenacious hanger on.

You think I would have learned my lesson. But I did tried another venture. It didn’t cost me much except in disappointment. I tried to have a plant sale. My bedding plants were beautiful, healthy and CHEAP. It was not that I failed miserably but that I was not supported. Only a few people came but not the ones who called me for their sales. Not the woman who had offered her husband to pick me up for her jewelry party. I had also spent $200 buying essential oils from her. The friends who valued my plants and friendship came and bought. They’re the ones that mattered. Now I only feel disappointed in my head but not my heart. I feel somewhat petty talking about it and that it still resides in me.

THE TELLING OF A STORY

It’s November 13th, day 13 of the Ultimate Blog Challenge. It’s 3:13 in the afternoon. Not prime time for me to talk about inspiration or to get inspired. I am a little weary after making, consuming and doing lunch dishes. To top that off, I received a phone call from a neighbour. She was inquiring the name of my neighbour right next to me. She was going to file harassment charges against her. It brought back alot of bad memories and feelings. But at least I feel somewhat exonerated – that it was not I who was behaving badly. I’m not the only one who had trouble with her.

I am feeling better now that I’ve let that breath out. Words are powerful. They’ve always helped and inspired me. I’ve written many posts on my relationship with this woman. I am happy to have curtailed the need. I can sing a different song now. Perhaps we shouldn’t be so hard on ourselves when we hang onto things/people/issues for seemingly too long. Perhaps it wasn’t the right time yet. Perhaps there’s a lesson we have to learn first. That is what I tell myself. There’s comfort in that.

Words and stories inspire me. My mother excels in story telling and is great inspiration to me. She doesn’t set out to tell a story but the stories come out just in our every day conversations. Here’s my words on her in a post from 2018:

If there’s anybody that I aspire to be, it would be my mother. She gives me inspiration on how to be, how to live. She teaches me through her story telling. That’s how I’ve learned everything Chinese, the culture, my ancestors, my very being. Don’t get me wrong. I find faults with her, too. Our mother/daughter relationship has had many difficulties like all such relationships. I’ve had my share of ‘I hate my mother’. Growing and maturing has enabled me to understand my mother and see from her point of view. Sometimes, especially in recent times, I feel as if I am my mother.

my mother and sister

Words and pictures speak to me. I see pictures in words and I see stories in pictures. They give me inspiration to tell my stories with ink, paint and thread.

My energy tank is running low. Let me finish by acknowledging that the Ultimate Blog Challenge and Paul Taubman, our digital maestro, also give me inspiration and a platform to tell my stories.

THE MUSIC IN MY HEAD

It’s day 12 of the November Ultimate Blog Challenge. 12 days is actually a very short time but when you are counting, it feels like forever. I’m still up for the game. There’s only 18 days left. How hard can that be? When you’re having fun, time and words flow. If you’ve visited me before, you would know I have a regular jukebox in my head. It hasn’t played for quite awhile until today. When lifeI get too fast, the music stops. I’ve been slowing down this month, taking more time to languish and enjoy the coffee. My jukebox started up again today.

This morning Don McLean is singing in my head.

So, bye-bye, Miss American Pie
Drove my Chevy to the levee, but the levee was dry
And them good ol’ boys were drinkin’ whiskey and rye
Singin’, “This’ll be the day that I die
This’ll be the day that I die”

I have no control over what plays. It’s not like there’s a slot I can plug my quarter into. But whatever plays have been quite helpful and inspiring for my index card art.

I hope the music never dies.

NOVEMBER 11TH – REMEMBRANCE

A very good morning to you on this snowy and 11th day of the Ultimate Blog Challenge. I am feeling pretty ‘up’ today. I think the brightness of the snow has something to do with it. Our neighbours must be feeling it, too. We encountered some cheery smiling snow shovellers on our walk in the hood. Of course, there has to be an exception to the crowd. We past a fellow walker who was not only scowling but would not acknowledge our good morning greeting. He looked cold. Maybe he didn’t have his long johns on.

I’ve been focusing on writing these days that I forgot today is Remembrance Day. I had to stop and reflect on it a bit. It brings to mind one of my first Remembrance Day in Canada. The service was held in the Maidstone Theatre. I was chosen to lay down the wreath. If I close my eyes, I can still how it was -walking up slowly and solemnly in my Brownie uniform. I must have gotten igood nstructions from our leader, Brown Owl. And so today, I take a moment, close my eyes and lay the wreath down again in my mind’s eye and bow my head in reverence and remembrance of those brave soldiers.

My uncle, my mother’s elder brother was one of those brave soldiers. He was in the US Air Force. He was a radio operator and was in Africa, the Balkans, Italy and the Rhineland. He did make it home and I got to see him a few times in NYC before he passed away in 2002. He was 79. I hadn’t seen him or my other uncles often but my mother spoke often about her family and how they grew up. I felt as if they’ve always been in my life. I remember one visit to NYC my uncle picking up and holding my hand while in conversation. It was so natural a gesture and so endearing. I was enraptured by the moment. We, Chinese are not a touchy lot. At least I am not. But whenever someone holds my hand in conversation, I a deeply touched. There’s but a few. It’s alot to me. I’m grateful.

IF I TELL IT

November the 10th and day 10 of the Ultimate Blog Challenge. No snow but it must have rained overnight. The ground is wet and the sky is grey. It would be a good day for California dreaming. Winter is on the way. What story can I tell today. I’m hoping like the farmer in Field of Dreams, that if I tell it people will read it.

I had dreams of writing even in grade school. I have memories of huddling with a couple of friends at recess to start a story. I bet we gave our teachers a smile and maybe a chuckle or two. Nothing much came out of these gab sessions. How productive or creative can kids get in 15-20 minutes? I know that it’s ample enough time for them to get into trouble. But I was never that kind of a child. I was rather boring. I never got into trouble. I got ran over by a boy on a bike once. I was in my Brownie uniform going to a meeting. My face got smashed into the dirt. I got a lip full of gravel. Still, I worried about getting into trouble.

In grade 8 the principal overheard me talking with another student about not having to study. We were walking back into the school from recess. We were still on our own time. He came to my class and called me out to talk. The other kids in the class thought he was going to praise me or something. They thought I was his pet. Instead he gave me supreme shit. Something like ‘Don’t you dare be a bad influence. Now get back inside!’ I was crushed and shocked for I was sort of his pet. It was rather harsh.

Looking back now, I think maybe it was around the time his wife was sick. She had cancer and died but I don’t know the time frame. But I was still a tender child. I must have gotten over it because I babysat his young daughter on evenings when he had meetings. Then he taught me how to dance for my grade 12 graduation. He was always proper with me. After high school when I was in Saskatoon going to university, he called our house. I answered the phone. I thought he would want to talk to my father eventually but no. He invited me out for supper.

We went to the Marigold on Third Avenue. They had a delicous barbecue chicken. He asked me if I wanted a drink. I ordered a margarita. I don’t know what we talked about. I do remember he told me I should be careful about drinking when I am out with a man. I already thought it a bit improper that he asked me out. But he was my teacher and principal from Maidstone. His advice gave me great pause. But we were in public and nothing improper happened. I am the original Miss Innocent but I have good instincts. I have heard stories that he like young blond girls. Well! I am not blond at all but I was young and supple.



SOME FRIENDS ARE LIKE THAT

We’re having another beautiful day for this 9th day of the Ultimate Blog Challenge. It’s almost noon and I’m reluctant to leave my sunny writing space. Lunch doesn’t cook itself so I will finish my cuppa and tap a few words and rise to the occasion. These golden moments go so fast. I mustn’t rush. I will savour them while they are here. They will come again. I tried to push out my words after my meditation this morning. They wouldn’t come. It wasn’t their time. They couldn’t be forced. I had to be patient and wait till they are ready.

So if we were having coffee today, what would we talk about? If we were simpatico, I am sure our words would flow like water. We would not need wine to loosen our tongues. Some friends are like that. We are sisters from different mothers. Our friendships spanned decades, remaining steady through the seasons of our lives. It’s wonderful. It’s marvelous. I couldn’t have asked for more. Everything is copacetic.

It is after 4 pm already. The sun is gone. The light is steely grey. Snow is coming. I better shorten my new snow pants. We might have to do some shovelling tomorrow. My words are few today but a photo is worth a thousand words.

MORNINGS ARE THE BEST

Good morning to you on another beautiful sunny day in November. It is almost noon. The soup is cooking in the Instant Pot. We’ve just come back from our walk and a little shopping at the Chinese grocery store – Market of Asia. Right across from MOA is another Chinese grocer, Great Asian Market (GAM). These are just 2 of the many Asian options for us. What a change since my first days in Canada! Back in those days my parents had to order Chinese supplies from Vancouver. It’s great that we live in the middle of everything, within walking distance. It gives us a destination and a purpose now that we don’t have Sheba to walk with us.

Mornings are my best times for everything. For not being a morning person most of my life, I can’t wait to get out of bed nowadays. Most mornings you will find me up between 6 and 7. I like those early hours. They are so peaceful. I would sit for 20 minutes in meditation with a cuppa tea listening to Mark Williams online. YouTube is a wonderful learning and inspiration center. I’m grateful to the generous people who so willingly share their videos. They give me such a boost to start the day. After my meditation I watch a little video on gardening, regenerative soil managing, permaculture or alternative living. Lately I’ve been entralled with tiny houses and sustainable living. I saw this tiny house video the other morning. It is about the size of my sunroom.

When I was much younger, way back, it seems like I could not have enough space. My sunroom was an add-on and so was the deck. I’m thinking and feeling different these days. I’m thinking it would be an adventure to live tiny. It is rather ironic don’t you think? My start in Canada was tiny. We lived above the cafe in 2 adjoining bedrooms. The other rooms were occupied by my dad’s cousin(business partner), his wife and nephew. I can’t remember how long we lived upstairs until grumblings started about too many of us. So we moved when my mother was pregnant with my brother.

We rented a tiny house behind the cafe. It had 2 rooms, a kitchen a and bedroom. The outhouse and coal bin were just out the back door. The linoleum on the kitchen floor was peeling. In the kitchen there was a potbelly stove and a table by the window facing the street. There was room for a hide-a-bed couch for me and a fridge in the corner. My father hammered together a not so perfect chest of drawers. He still slept in the cafe, having to get up early to open for the day. The cafe closed only on Sundays.

I feel like I am still telling old stories but in telling, I see the irony of where my heart desires are today. I desire not hardship, but challenges and reasons to be. I desire the less of things and more of quality life, of caring of the people in and outside of our life and caring of our planet.

Mornings are my best times. It is when I am more clear minded and have more energy and focus. It is late evening now and I am rambling. It would have been better if I could have finished my words in the morning. But I didn’t. So ends this 8th day for the Ultimate Blog Challenge.

THEN AND NOW

A good afternoon to you on this 7th day of the November Ultimate Blog Challenge. It is past the noon hour. No snow yet so the mornings are dark. I slept in! It was still pitch black at 7:30 am. My blackout curtains are also working too well. I made them last fall because my next door neighbour started to keep her outside garage light on 24/7 as security. It is mounted high, casting a bright light at night over her backyard as well as ours. The light goes through the aluminum venetians and reflects it onto our bedroom walls. It was rather disturbing for sleep. Negotiations was too difficult. The curtains was my beneign solution.

We had a late breakfast, our usual Sunday fare of bacon, eggs and sourdough pancakes. It’s quite filling. I can delay lunch a bit, sip my tea and lay out the foundation for today’s post. Our digital maestro, Paul Taubman, suggested writing “about where you have been, where you are now, and where you see yourself going in the future.” I thought I would take it literally and talk about my physical where have I been.

I was born in a tiny village on main land China in the Taishan region in the province of Guandong. The name of my village (san eng) means mountain top. It’s all very complicated especially when it come to passports nowadays. In the past, I’ve always put Canton, the old name for guandong for my birthplace. Now immigration is super picky. They want the name of the actual town even though they can’t find or verify it on the map. So I had to make it up. It’s very difficult to translate it phonetically. The immigration person couldn’t find it, of course, but it was acceptable. Strange, isn’t it?

our house in China

I was born before we had electricity. So it’s been a few years. I saw my first electric lightbulb when I was six in a hotel room in the city of Canton. My mother and I along with 3 cousins and their grandmother were on our way to Hong Kong to join my father. It would be my first time seeing my father since I was 2. He had immigrated to Canada and now we were meeting up in Hong Kong. It was tricky for my mother and I to get out of Communist China. I have vague memories of mother going to Taishan City to get this and that paper. And it was who we knew that helped us.

I think my father stayed with us in Hong Kong for a year or so before heading back to Canada. That’s how my sister came to be. At first we lived in rented rooms in someone else’s flat. We were able to share the kitchen. That’s how alot of people lived. After awhile my paternal grandfather sent money from Canada and we bought our own flat. It had 3 bedrooms. My paternal grandmother and my 2 uncles were already in Hong Kong ahead of us. We all lived together.

I can’t remember how long after my father left for Canada that my grandmother and my younger uncle also left. Then it was my older uncle. That left my mother, my sister and I. My mother’s family was worried about mom alone with 2 children. My mother’s sister and younger brother came to live with us to help out and keep us company. Then it was our turn to leave for Canada. My sister was not quite 2. Here’s our family photo before we left.

This is turning into a long story. The short of it is we ended up in Maidstone, Saskatchewan, a small town of 600 then. It had electricity but no running water and no flush toilets. I was almost back to where I started out in China. Though I had lived in the big city of Hong Kong for 2 years, I don’t remembered being frazzled by the drastic change in my environment. I did have a sense that the lights had gone out. I had a vision that Canada would be full of colourful balloons and cotton candy. The adults called it Gold Mountain. How was I to know?

Enough for now. It is getting late. Tomorrow is another day. Perhaps I can talk about the now, how I ended up here, in Saskatoon, later on. You are always welcome to come back.

A SATURDAY IN NOVEMBER

A very good Saturday morning to you. It is still rather cool at 10 am. It is 1℃. The sun is just coming out. Welcome again to my writing space on this 6th day of the Ultimate Blog Challenge. It is too early to say I’m still going strong. I’ll save it for the middle of the challenge. I like to lay down a few thoughts and sentences to get things going. I can’t jump in with both feet. I have to let things simmer and percolate slowly. Like wise our passive solar greenhouse in November. Everything is still growing but ever so slowly. I have rolled up the shade to let the light and sun in. There’s not much excitement going on now except the lettuce. They seem to be able to grow new leaves overnight. They are a welcome sight when I open the door. So fresh and green! We can still have fresh salads every other day.

I’m glad I started this conversation this morning. It’s late afternoon and I’m running out of steam. We just came back from our walk around the hood. Yesterday we went out to the Richard St. Barbe Baker Afforation area. It was our first time here. The day was sunny and warmer than today. The park was beautiful, awashed in autumn sun. I wished Sheba was still with us. More than a few people and their dogs showed up so I got my dog and nature fix.

Today we watched the online event celebrating the Jubilee celebration 50 years after Richard St. Barbe Baker received his honorary doctorate at the University of Saskatchewan. I’ve only learned of the man a few years ago. And what an interesting man Richard St. Barbe Baker was. Strange how I can live in this city for so many years and only heard of this place and man recently. It is true the most valuable jewels are those within our reach.

The sun has set. It is time to roll down the ‘blanket’ in the greenhouse to keep the heat in. I fed all the plants with homemade LAB (lactic acid bacteria) earlier. I’m hoping to give them enough of a boost to keep them going till December. It’s wonderful what you can learn on YouTube. The LAB is made with just rice water wash and milk. You not only get a liquid fertilizer but curds to make cheese. I have to warn you the LAB is a little smelly but the plants don’t mind at all. I made only a small batch since it’s my first attempt. I didn’t want to waste my milk if it doesn’t work. It does and I made a little cheese. The cheese wasn’t exactly gourmet but was good – like feta. The LAB has other uses besides as a fertilizer. I love learning to make my own stuff.

It is time to close shop. Tomorrow is another day. I hope you will drop in again for a cuppa and a chat.

STUMBLES, HICCOUGHS and LETTING GO

LETIING GO

Another beautiful morning for the 5th day of the Ultimate Blog Challenge. Welcome to my space. I thought I would lay a few bricks for today’s post before I get too caught up in the cobwebs of daily life. I am feeling brighter and more energetic since I’ve joined the challenge. Having a goal adds purpose to my day. I look forward each day to sitting here with my cuppa and sharing my thoughts and words with you. November is not only a writing month but a month of hope. I am taking advantage of Sounds True’s free 4 day event on Activating Hope. Jane Goodall is a keynote speaker. That says it all for me.

It is interesting to learn that Jane had no experience or degree when she started work as a secretary with Louis Leakey And my renowned art professor, Dorothy Perehudoff, had a degree in biology before she took up art. I still have time to become a good artist or whatever. We are not just one thing. We are always evolving and there are more than one destination on our life journey. Being such, there’s bound to be a few hiccoughs and stumbles along the way. Jane Goodall was no exception. Though she had many awards and recognition, she had criticisms as well. She was accused of plagarism in her book, Seeds of Hope. She acknowledged, apologized and move on.

On 22 March 2013, Hachette Book Group announced that Goodall’s and co-author Gail Hudson’s new book, Seeds of Hope, would not be released on 2 April as planned due to the discovery of plagiarised portions.[87] A reviewer for The Washington Post found unattributed sections that were copied from websites about organic tea, tobacco, an “amateurish astrology site”, as well as from Wikipedia.[88] Goodall apologised and stated, “It is important to me that the proper sources are credited, and I will be working diligently with my team to address all areas of concern. My goal is to ensure that when this book is released it is not only up to the highest of standards, but also that the focus be on the crucial messages it conveys.”[89] The book was released on 1 April 2014, after review and the addition of 57 pages of endnotes.[90]

That is what I must do also for my stumbles and hiccoughs – move on. They are not failures. They are lessons to stop falling into the same rabbit hole again and again. I am a slow learner. I hang onto things and people like my Sheba with a bone. There’s no wisdom in doing the same things and expecting a different outcome. No wonder I feel like a gerbil on a wheel. I can’t believe how long I keep telling the same story over and over. Now that I had my moment of recognition, of knowing, of seeing how and why I’ve been treading water all these long years, I need to adopt a new course of action. I need to let go of things that no longer serve me. I need to tell a new story.