Object Lesson

Yesterday I got toothpaste in my eye.
It really hurt.
I mean, my eye was minty-fresh, but also blurry and in a lot of pain.

I often do object lessons when trying to teach a skill or a concept to a group of kids. I think object lessons are valuable, fun and really can get a point across. Yesterday my point was that we learn to do things by observing and watching other people - and that other people teach us and show us how to do things.

For the object lesson I put on a plastic bag and blindfolded a kid. I told him that there were two things on the table. He had to figure out what they were, and then use the objects - on me. He quickly figured out that it was toothpaste and a toothbrush and after building it up for a while that I had never in my life brushed my teeth, (which, BTW is a lie) I told him that he was going to have to show me how. Blindfolded. Because he was such an expert on teeth brushing.

And that's how I got toothpaste in my eye. And on my neck. And through my eyebrows. And up my nose.

It was a great object lesson for the kids. And I learned something too - don't let kids near your face with a brush and/or anything that may require an eye-wash station.

Sometimes I say dumb things

Sometimes I say dumb things. My problem is that I personally think I'm hilarious, and I forget that not everyone knows me and has the same opinion. So sometimes I think of things that are really funny, so I say them out loud, and then people give me a weird look because they don't know how truly hilarious I really am.

Like today.
During an interview.
Obviously not the best place to say something dumb.

The question: What makes you really sad?
I thought for approximately 0.007 seconds before I blurted out "people killing kittens."
Which, in my defense is REALLY sad.
But is also a dumb answer. Good answers would have included: child soldiers, poverty, rainy days, cancer etc.

But when I was asked the question, all I could think of was this video.

I don't know why. I haven't seen or thought of that video for 5 months, but it was the first thing that popped into my head. Watch the whole thing. It is WELL worth your time.

I also said another dumb thing. This guy was firing off, literally, a million questions about everything ranging from hobbies, to relationships, to jobs, to traffic tickets, to family etc. And it's going quick.

The question: What's your opinion on marriage?
Me: Yes please!!!

I probably should have clarified - not to him, just in general. I'm pro-marriage. I also could have said, "I support the concept of marriage. I think it's a good idea."

But I didn't say that. That would have been too normal.

But normal is boring.

School Supplies

I don't know about you, but not once in my childhood or adulthood did I get "back-to-school-mustard."

Masqurade

My last night in Barkerville was a blast.

I attended the Fireman's Masqurade Ball, which is a victorian tradidition in Barkerville dating back many, many years. Everyone had to dress in formal victorian wear (or the best they could come up with), wear masks, fascinators and get formally announced at the door. There was a formal sit-down dinner and then a dance.

I had a beautiful dress all planned out, but 5 minutes before we left when I put it on, the zipper split so at the last minute I had to borrow a dress from a friend. It worked out ok, but my dress was better. Sad, sad, day.

It was an awesome event, not just because it was something random that I had never done before, but because the only people allowed to come were people that worked in Barkerville. It was great to just hang out for an entire night with all the people that make the town come alive during the day. No entertaining tourists, no strangers, just all Barkerville people. It was great.

Here's some pictures.

Stanley

Since my first day here this season, a group of friends and I have been planning on driving to a town called Stanley which is along the Cariboo Wagon Road that leads to Barkerville. Our plan was to go as soon as we had a nice evening. That nice evening came on August 5. (I kid you not, August five was the first nice evening). Because the Cariboo Wagon Road (often considered the 8^th wonder of the world) is 160 years old, it is virtually impassable unless by foot, we drove around and came in from the far side instead.

Stanley was a booming town just like Richfield, Barkerville, Camerontown, Marysville and Wells, but when the gold played out, the town became abandoned and slowly rotted into the ground. Today all that is left is a dilapidated cemetery and two buildings. We walked around and explored the area for quite some time before heading back to Wells.

When I wander around these old cemeteries I often think of the people that lay beneath the rotting, moss covered headstones. Is there anyone left in the world that remembers that that person is buried there? What kind of a life did the person live? What kind of legacy did he leave?

I think when I die, I’ll have a florescent pink, twinkle and neon-lighted statue built on my grave - Las Vegas style. With my life story engraved around the bottom. Ooohhhh, OR the statue will talk and move and tell my story. It’ll be a major attraction that people will come to see from all over the world. Forget about me? Heck no!

The truth is, I’m not concerned with the legacy I leave here on earth. Obviously I want to be a decent person and have people think well of me, but my few years on this earth is so little compared to eternity that I’m living for that part of my life instead of this one.

Today, think about what legacy you are living for.

My Granny

On Monday my mom and Granny came to visit me in Barkerville. My granny is out here from Ontario so I was really glad that she made the trek all the way to Barkerville to see me. We had a great time meandering though the town, visiting with all the characters, shopping, seeing a show and eating lunch. As part of the day my mom, granny and I got our picture taken at L.A. Blanc Photographic Gallery and Studio where I work. I really wanted us all to be outlaws, and I had granny in this awesome dress and buckskin jacket and cowboy hat, but she didn’t like it so she got a fancy dress instead and me and mom were outlaws.

It was hilarious. Granny was laughing and complaining the whole time.

On our way to the stage, she said, “This is the worst thing that has ever happened to me?”

My response? “You lived through World War Two, and THIS is the worst thing that has ever happened to you?”

That sent us into fits of laughter for the rest of the day.

Arts Wells

Last weekend was the long awaited Arts Wells Festival. This festival is a celebration of all things art. Music, dance, crafts, painting, drawing, weaving, instruments etc. You name it and it was probably there (including a workshop on how to play the bass - not the guitar, not the cello-like instrument, but the washtub-broomstick-string combination).

Last year I didn’t attend the festival, but this year I purchased a weekend pass and had a surprisingly good time at the festival. I was impressed with the quality and quantity of bands that performed and although I had to work and couldn’t attend any of the workshops, I did wish I could have gone to a few.

The Arts Wells Festival draws in people (mostly hippies) from around Canada and the states. For 4 days around 10 000 hippies descend on the town of Wells (population 250). Tents are pitched anywhere and everywhere and despite large amounts of drinking and smoking there is very little, if any, crime. Everyone is polite and curteous and friendly.

On the first night of the festival I knew that I was in for something different. An impromptu band popped up in the middle of the street and started playing music. A crowd formed and the crowd started to dance. In the middle of the street. The entire weekend was like that.

Although I am not a hippie - far from it- I decided to use the weekend as an opportunity to observe a culture different from my own. While participating on an exchange with Canada World Youth I learned that no culture is “weird’, they are just “different.” So I bring you my list of observations and I do not state them because they are ‘weird’ I state them because they are ‘different.’

1. 10,000 campers + 3 public showers in town = smelly weekend.
2. Dreads are really cool. Double cool if you play the cello or violin.
3. Pee wherever you want. On my front lawn, no problem.
4. Camp wherever you want. The baseball field, the ditch, my back yard, the side of the road, whatever works for you.
5. Dance. All the time.
6. Men can wear flowery silk skirts.
7. Barefeet make you 100% more hippie than the guy beside you wearing sandals.
8. Clowns are the new fad. Forget vampires, it’s all about clowns now.
9. Make music whenever, wherever with whatever you can find.
10. You are never too old to be a hippie. (85 yr old)
11. You are never too young to be a hippie. (1 month old)

I actually really enjoyed myself on the weekend. Caught up with some old friends, danced a bit, watched many, many bands and just chilled. Good Times.

I haven't blogged for a while, and I'm always short on time these days, so here is the point form list of the happenings the last little while.

Yesterday I woke up and fox was sitting on the roof of my car.

It snowed last week.

It has rained every day since I got here.

I got told that I was a 'beauDiful prindsess' today by a little girl. That made me feel good.

There is an art/hippie festival going on right now and it is so full of BO, Dreads, random art, music, clowns and hippies. It's such a different culture and I'm actually enjoying observing it.

I had a dream that someone was trying to nuclear bomb Wells and Me and Vin Diesel had to save the town.

Flew to Vancouver last weekend for the Western-Gerrits Family Reunion. Good times.

Found my first ever Geo-Cache with my cousin.

Slept in my car for a night.

Miss my family and bestie.

Still happy and healthy.

:D

I actually AM Dr. Quinn

So...

It happened this week.

I actually became Dr. Quinn Medicine Woman.

It all started the other day while I was at work in Barkerville. I'm all dressed up 1870's style, have excellent Victorian hair that day by the way, lace up boots, the corset, the whole deal. While I'm working I hear a shout outside on the street,
"Help! Someone help! What happened? Help!!!!"

I take a peek out the window and notice an elderly man laying on the ground. I yell for my boss to call for First Aid as I heft up my skirts and run out the door to assist the man in need. I fall to the dirt, my skirts (yes, plural, I'm also wearing petticoats), pooling in the dirt of the street around me as I assess the situation.

Long story short, after some calming words, some help up off the ground and away from the approaching stage coach (yes, stage coach), the man and his wife went on their way.

And I realized what I had done, who I had become, and smiled.

Worst Case Scenario

I'm a 'worst-case-scenario' type of person. I constantly am thinking about what the worst possible thing could happen, and how I would react should it actually occurr. Maybe it's all my first aid training or the fact that I'm generally just a responsible person, but my mind always jumps to how I would dal with a terrible situation. Here are some from this week.

Wednesday, I was driving to a great couple's home for dinner. They don't really know me, but are super nice and friendly and they invited me over. I knew that we were having rice noodles as part of the meal. I've never had rice noodles. What if I had an allergic reaction in the middle of dinner! We are out in the boon-docks and it would take an hour to get to a hospital. I would die. Would my life insurance still get divvied out, or would the company deny my family the money because technically I'm not teaching during July and August? Who would pack up my room here in Wells? Who would say my eulogy? Would anyone from Ontario fly out for the funeral? Where would my ashes be spread?

Then, after that panic attack I saw a MASSIVE moose on the side of the road. What if I hit it? and died - refer to above scenario.

Thursday, what if the touron (tourist-moron) that is smoking on the boardwalk (in the town made of wood btw), drops his butt and the town lights on fire? Do I have to help put it out? I haven't been trained in historical-village-fire-putting-out. What if my skirt gets on fire! It's synthetic, it'll probably melt to my legs and I'll have these nasty plastic blue-flowered legs the rest of my life. Do I just watch as the town burns down? Do I run away? Do I help clear out the shop?

Various times during the week, I'm out walking, biking or doing something in this sleepy semi-deserted town and I wonder, what would happen if I came across the resident grizzly bear and her2 cubs? She'd swipe my leg and I'd be all bleeding. Who would save me? No one comes out of their homes before 9am when I'm usually out and about. Would I use my sweater to staunc the flow of blood? It's polyester, would that just act as a sieve and pull out more blood making me bleed more? I don't want to use my super awesome, but also inappropriate Dirty Dancing T-Shirt that I'm wearing today! That was my best V V find ever!

Those are the thoughts that go through my mind when I'm awake.

What goes through my mind while I"m asleep you ask? Well last night me and Vin Diesel saved the town of Wells from a nuclear bomb attack.

Barkerville Day 1

Well I made it north safe and sound.

I'm happy to be here in Wells/Barkerville.

Last nigh wa a staff BBQ at the park and it was so good to reconnect with and see some of my old aquaintences and friends. People were thrilled to see that I had come back and there were lots of hugs and smiles and jumping up in surprise.

My favourite greeting was when I saw one of the actors and as he gave me a hug, he said, "Welcome home." Not welcome back, but wecome home. It took me off guard for a miinute because home to me is Kamloops, but as I digested his words I thought to myself, "yeah, you know what, this is my summer home. This is where my heart lives during the winter, and it's where my mind and passions have lived ever sinc I was 12. History. The past. Making heritage real and living.

The following pictre is one my roomate/friend/co-worker Hayley took this morning.

That would be a fox eating from my hand.

His name is Mr. Socks ad our apartment building has adopted him.

The Best Clean

I just had the best shower ever. You know, that once a year shower where you are so filthy, dirty, sweaty and smelly that the longest, hottest, soapiest shower ever is necessary to clean the filth off your rotting with dirt-stink carcass.

I just re-read that sentence and it sounds like I only shower once a year. That is a false lie. I shower regularly. But do you know what I'm talking about? You have that one super-dirty-smelly weekend (usually after camping as I was) and you go into the shower feeling like you are caked in a mixture of dirt, sweat and boogers, and you scrub and scrub and scrub and come out feeling cleaner than you've ever felt before. You soap up, lather, rinse AND repeat (as in wash your hair twice), shave, maybe shave again for good measure, scrub your feet, clean under your fingernails and then lather up again and have an extra-hot rinse. Glorious.

Deoderant, some perfume, pluckage of the eyebrows and you feel like a new person.

This new person is now off to my last movie of the summer. Wednesday I head north where the idea of going to a movie is just that - an idea that can't happen. Live theatre every night of the week? sure! Movies? No such luck.

I'm off for the Summer!

I'll be leaving Kamloops next week to spend my second summer in the Wells/Barkerville/Bowron Lakes region of BC. I love it up there and I can't wait to be in my car driving north, even though it will take me half a day to get there.

The region I will be living is in the Cariboo, east of Quesnel BC, pretty much in the middle of nowhere and literally at the very end of a long and winding mountain road.

Wells, BC, where I'll be living is a small town with an average population of about 300 people. It is a tiny town filled with arts and culture and history. It's surprising that this town is so small and yet has three art galleries as well as a regularly attended theatre. Most of the people who live in Well's are seasonal employees at Barkerville (North America's premier heritage attraction) or work at one of the many gold mines in the area.

I will be working in Barkerville, North America's largest Heritage Village. Everyone who works in the town dresses in 1880's style (including underwear), speaks and acts Victorian 100% of the time when we are at work. We are not even permitted to speak about modern things or our regular out of work lives with eachother when the public is around. We are dedicated to bringing the past and the Cariboo Gold Rush alive to the thousands of visitors that come through the gates each season.

If you know anything about me, you know that I love history, and if you were a part of my childhood in any capacity, you know that I dressed up like Dr. Quinn more than I dressed up like Nikki Gerrits. This is the perfect job for me. I love it. I love my job at the photography studio, I love visiting the other merchants and workers in town, I love interacting with the street interpreters and actors, and I love being a part of a very small town where everyone knows everyone. Living in Wells/Barkerville is the strangest experience, it really is like going back in time, and I really enjoy it. I'll try to keep posting through the summer to let you see parts of my life there.

Keep well everyone!

28 or 80? I'm not sure.

I recently discovered that I'm actually 80 years old. I may look 28 (or even 14 to some of you - thanks again for regularly mistaking me for a student at the school I teach at), but deep down, I am an old lady. An old, old lady.

Let's think about this. I am quite conservative. I have an unusual obsession with history and Barkerville, I like to wear Victorian clothes, I play violin, I have a limp and arthritis and I know every hymn in the hymn book.

So, as part of my 'being 80 years old in a 28 year old's body' issue, I took up a new hobby this spring and I want to share the final result with you. My new hobby? Ceramics.

And I rocked that class 20's style. Those old ladies didn't know what hit them when I showed up. And here is the results of my ceramics class experience: Pierpont the Gnome. He's adorable and awesome and I love him. Especially his Klompen.

Soon and Very Soon

Soon, so very, very soon, school will be done for another year. I'm literally shouting out, "Praise the Lord!"

That shout out to my awesome God is yes, partly a thank you that it is the end of the year, but mostly a shout out because it was a pretty fantastic year. I had a pretty great class this year. I liked them and for the most part I think they liked me. I built good relationships with them and I *think* that the might have learned a few things from me. :D

Here's my top ten from this past year at Kamloops Christian School

10. Taking my class skiing.
9. The Christmas Party.
8. The Human Body Science Experiments.
7. Heritage Fair Projects.
6. Telling stories. Me, them, whoever. We talked a lot about stuff that was not related to the curriculum.
5. Tuesday's. Every single one of them.
4. Track and Field at the school and at zones.
3. The class-nap we took on Pajama Day where everyone full out 100% slept.
2. Swimming Lessons.
1. All the staff. I like them all and we work well together and get along as colleagues and friends.

Just a few more days and we will all be parting ways. My students will be spending two weeks swimming, playing sports, vacationing and relaxing and I'll be heading north where I get to go back and time and live out my dream. Stay tuned for more information about that!
Keep Well Everyone!

Dr. Pooh

I saw this truck weeks ago and didn't have my camera on me. It made me laugh SO hard. Then, last week, after searching for nearly 5 weeks, this truck showed up just outside my doorstep.

Seriously, whoever owns this business has clever advertising and a sense of humor. And actually, a really good business because seriously, no one likes to pick up dog poop. And think of all the elderly and housebound people who can't pick up after their little dogs that they love. I hope the owner of this business keeps busy and makes a good living.

Awesome!

CatKirk

One time I came home from work and found this in my garden:


After calming my heart rate down after being shocked by this grotesque statue, I took a good look at it (but I didn't look directly in it's eyes, that would be too much to handle.) I decided that the cat is ugly. Not just ugly, but uuuuuuuuuhhhhhhhgly. I threw up in my mouth a little bit and wondered how this uuuuuuuuuuhhhhhgly cat had gotten into my back yard.

I put on some gloves (because lets face it, would you touch it with your bare skin?) and just as I was about to smash it and burn it, I made a mistake. I looked at it again. I noticed all the chips, and the creepy paw-nails, it's devilish look of contempt, it's perky ears listening for it's master (the devil obviously) to call it back to where it belongs, and I decided that the cat was so hideous, that I was just going to have to keep it and love it. Extend it some grace if you will...

As part of keeping it and loving it I put it up on the ledge that backs onto the Rivers Trail that runs through my backyard. Probably a hundred people use that trail every day. And every day those hundred people get to see my devil cat staring at them.

A group of students walking to the pool one day noticed the devil cat (hereafter named CatKirk), and they began yelling, "Ohhhh my eyes! My eyes!!! They are burning! That cat is uuuuhhhgly!"
A few days later a pre-school class stopped, pointed, laughed and I believe some cried. I would apologize to their parents for the nightmares that most likely came as a result of meeting CatKirk, but really, it makes me laugh.

My neighbour has asked me numerous times to get rid of it because every morning it stares at her through her back window. It also makes her 3 year old cry.

But CatKirk remains. And he will remain on that ledge forever.

Hot Yoga

I like to try new things. I really do. In the last five years I've picked up tennis, snowboarding, violin, manicures, sewing and ceramics. Whenever someone suggests something new, more often than not I'll give it a whirl.

Tonight I gave hot yoga a whirl.

I have never felt more disgusting in my life. Disgusting in a 'good/healthy/revolting/I'm going to barf' kind of way.

The premise of hot yoga is this; shove 40 females and 3 strange (read: weird) males into a tiny room. Turn the heat on. Turn the heat up. Keep turning the heat up. Let the room fill with body heat and then, for good measure, turn the heat up a little bit more. Do yoga.

I've never really been that interested in yoga (or sweating for that matter) so what possessed me to try hot yoga I don't know. I'm not into all the other mumbo jumbo ('thank everyone for sharing their breath with you, find your inner divinity blah blah blah), my facbook brain automatically clicks *ignore* when they go into this and I think about how I can become a tiny, bendy, perfectly proportioned Asian like the girl in front of me.

But I did it. Almost all 90 minutes of it. (I had to take a break half way through because I actually thought I was going to barf and or faint - two things I rarely, if ever do). And I sweated. None of this 'girls glisten' sweating, but full on, dripping rivers down my legs and arms sweating. Droplets of sweat falling from my brow to make a satisfying splash on the linoleum. My clothing is actually wet to the point where I could wring it out.

Gross eh?

Or awesome?

I'm undecided. I always tell people to give everything three chances, and I'll probably do the same for sweaty-yoga. Wanna join me next time?

No.

No.
Never.
What crazy person thought that creating this was not only a good idea, but an acceptable idea?

Co-Counuts (Go Canucks)

I am a die-hard Canadian. I really am. But when it comes to hockey, I just really don't care. Not as much as I should, and it barely even enters my radar that it exists. Oh I go to one or two games a year, and I'll watch approximately 0.4 minutes of some game, but other than that...

I've been wanting to share with you for quite some time the following magazine cover. I *just* found my phone cord (horray for cleaning my dresser out!) so now I can share it with you.

My favourite part is the last line "A national identity is in peril"

Really?

Our National Identity - our bacon loving, red and white, maple syrup drinking, comedian producing, peacekeeping, largest coastline, second largest land mass, mountie, beaver, moose, mosaic, free, roll up the rim fanatics identity is in peril? Because 30 000 fewer kids played hockey this year?

I think not.

I never played hockey. And I already told you that I don't really care about hockey. Does that make me any less of a Canadian? To some, yes it would. But I know in my maple leaf tattooed heart and soul that I love Canada. Love it times a million - and hockey has nothing to do with my proud Canadian identity.

Amen.

P.S. Lacrosse is our national sport, it should be our identity not some sport whose history begins in ancient Egypt.