A IS FOR ASHLEY

May my beautiful friend and coworker forever rest in peace.
(Beautiful photo from her LinkedIn profile)

It was the last Friday afternoon of this past January. 

My boss and I had just finished our end of day call, when he empathetically said, “I have some news to share.” Then, after a long pause he said, “Ashley was killed in a car accident early yesterday morning.”

In that moment, it was like I had been punched in the throat. My mind began swirling, and I was in a complete state of disbelief. This girl had the most amazing energy and sense of kindness, I instantly fell into a general state of shock.

Fast forward from that Friday night to Sunday morning. I couldn’t find any information online, other than there had in fact been a vehicular fatality in that area the morning I was told she passed. 

So, by mid-Sunday morning I reached out to a coworker to go fishing for facts. I couldn’t stop thinking about it and I wanted to confirm that there hadn’t been some sort of bizarre misunderstanding. She quickly confirmed it was in fact her that had died.

Flash to the next Tuesday, when the rumblings shift to the chatter that her husband was being investigated for foul play in her death. In that moment, all I could do was be angry at the potential small town gossip.

Low and behold he was formally charged that Friday with second degree murder and indignity to a dead body and is being held without bail. 

His charges were then formally upgraded to first degree murder on February 17th, 2023.

Though I want to be angry at the person accused of taking her life, he doesn't deserve any space in my mind. That said, I can’t help but focus my empathy and worry to their two young children, both under the age of ten. Still processing all of this, it is so sad that they lost both of their parents that day. 

Not that I am anyone special in the big scheme of all of this, I am just one of many that is extremely grateful to have been able to call Ashley Schwalm my friend. I will always miss my former coworker dearly.

Rest in peace my beloved Schwalmster. 

Because if there is one thing you deserve, it's to forever sleep easy. 

Z IS FOR ZOMBIE

 

Our last practice with Ashley ending our summer session.
TAKEN: AUGUST 30th, 2018

A few years back I started doing yoga with the SweenyMeister and a gaggle of gals I worked in the Muskoka construction industry with.

In the beginning, I was leery of the process but by the third or fourth class, I started to compartmentalize my energy for the activity. As I began to understand the purpose of the process, I could literally feel the stresses of my day leaving my body. 

As a result, I truly began to look forward to my Tuesday and Thursday after work ritual. That hour of time I booked for myself at the end of the day, twice a week, quickly  became a haven. 

During those twenty months, I slept better and handled general stress better. As I reflect, I wasn’t looking and feeling like the freaking zombie I am today.

Following that statement, I read somewhere that ‘a zombie in possession of brains must be in want of more brains.’ 

I guess I must be one of those hybrid type of zombies – because after my rollercoaster month of April, my brain won't shut off and I am always in the want of more sleep!

On that note. As I yawn, I will raise my keyboard to the end of another April A-Z year.

...Namaste. 

PS: I wonder how a Hindu zombie would groan that greeting of respect as their lips and limbs fell off?

#yagottalaughaboutit #thanksforreading

Y IS FOR YAWN

Do you want to yawn too?
TAKEN AUGUST 21st, 2021

I remember my mom telling me a stories when I was a kid about yawning being contagious.

Before she married my dad, she worked in downtown Toronto and rode public transit. Thanks to the daily grind of boredom, she would purposely seek out someone to look in the eye and immediately pretend to yawn. 

She would then observe how long it took for everyone else around her to begin yawning; which is DNA evidence of where my warped sense of amusement comes from.

As you can imagine, I'm feeling just as my Miya Maria is looking as we rode home from the cottage last summer. I'm not yawning due to the boredom of the daily grind or sheer exhaustion from chasing my tail, actually it is anything but. 

April has been a whirlwind of emotions for me. Highs and lows. Days filled with happiness followed by days of deep sadness and in some cases total devastation because of my unexpected loss Easter Sunday.

Never one to quit, I am one letter away of finishing the April A-Z challenge and I am glad a persevered. 

I did well to post daily in the beginning... but at this stage, I am just happy I am going to finish. 

...Smartie would have wanted me to.

X IS FOR XEROX

 

 Always be genuine and unique...
Because everyone knows XEROX is unable to be original!
TAKEN: APRIL 7th, 2022

W IS FOR WORDLE

 

Each day I Wordle as I sip my morning coffee.
... and Quordle while I eat my lunch.

When I started my new job everyone in the office was talking about this thing called “Wordle”.

I’d never heard of it, but I had seen a flood of yellow, green, and black square emojis flash across my Facebook timeline. Always cautious of click bate, I never gave it a second through. That was until my entire new crew seemed obsessed with it.

For the first week, I listened to try and understand what the point was. Limited to just one game a day, you have six chances to guess a five-letter word. Each time you hit enter to register your guess, each letter turns a different colour.

Black means the letter isn’t in the word at all. Yellow means the letter is in the word but in the wrong spot. Green means you have the right letter in the right spot.

I haven’t been playing long, but I seem to Wordle in just three guesses quite regularly. 

Don’t get me wrong, I have also burned through my six guesses just as easily.

All in all… Just a really great way to start the day.

V IS FOR VICTORY

On our recent trip to Key West, we took in a popular tourist trap simply called “Robbie's” in Islamorda.

I had watched the destination being featured on several must-see attractions on YouTube, so we planned to stop in on our way back to Miami. The experience did NOT disappoint.

This school of more than a hundred tarpon linger for hours at the hope of being hand fed. They actually rise out of the water to grab the fish as it leaves your hand. My husband braved the activity, I watch and took pictures; but had a blast just the same.

Now you’d think the tarpon would be the main attraction, but it was the ornery pelicans. Both bold and somewhat aggressive in nature, they not only steal the fish, but they also definitely steal the show. 

The VICTORY was theirs!

Here are a few pics of our fun adventure.

The lunch lineup
TAKEN: APRIL 9th, 2022

My husband feeding the tarpon (close up)
TAKEN: APRIL 9th, 2022

I tried to warn him there was incoming!
TAKEN: APRIL 9th, 2022

They have no fear!!
TAKEN: APRIL 9th, 2022

A fun $2.50 to get in and $4.75 for the bucket of fish. Good times....
TAKEN: APRIL 9th, 2022

U IS FOR UNDERSTANDING

In memory of my best friend that passed away Easter Sunday 2022
TAKEN: AUGUST 28th, 2021

 

T IS FOR TOXIC

#meanpeoplesuck

I am sure you’ll agree that there is always one. 

One person you've never really suspected but kind of thought maybe, wanted to put a pillow over your face at your lowest point, hoping they could do you in. 

I should disclose that there had been instances previously, but they had always ended in my having a 'water off a duck's back' attitude. (Oh, it's just so and so... being so and so.)

As you know, this last week I’ve been a mess. I struggled with my letter S because of the sheer emotion of creating the collage and writing the few words I could muster.

Then, out of the blue, I got a series of personal messages from 'so and so,' asking questions about what was happening around me and what had unfurled the night previous.  In the end, I believe this person thought she had information that would shock and devastate me more than I already was.

After she delivered her dramatic zinger, she gave me a thumbs up followed by hug emoji. My reply was swift like a razor blade. 

“Don’t hug me,” I said. “You knew exactly what you were doing!”

Deleted, blocked, gone in a social media instant. Screw enabling her any longer. 

That, my friends, is the only way to deal with TOXIC troublemakers...Especially when you're unable to punch them in the face in person!!

Ahhhh, typing that last sentence out felt great. It processed closure for me.

Thanks for listening.

S IS FOR SMARTIE

One of my best friends passed away on Easter Sunday. Though we were separated by thousands of miles, we spoke on the phone at least once a week. He was mere fifty six years of age.

My avid readers will recognize his name as well as his photo, as he has appeared in several journal posts over the years (even has his own label). All very raw and still in shock, I am struggling to deal with the loss. 

As a result, I have decided to share what his oldest and dearest childhood friend "Howie" posted for him on the exact day my letter S was due. 

I think it paints a perfect picture of this wonderful man. The words brought me to both tears of laughter as well as deep sadness. Words can not describe how much I will miss him.

Rest in peace Smartie. Keep my seat next to you warm and your wit razor sharp....Until we meet again.

Love you always xoxo ~ Rhondi

I miss my buddy

He’s gone.  That’s what his ex-wife said to me when I answered the phone the evening of Easter Sunday.

All who knew Brian entered a new world in that moment.

So far, that world is one of shock, disbelief, boundless sadness and equally boundless gratitude; feelings all common in the wake of the loss of loved one. The shock, disbelief and sadness will settle.  The gratitude for all he brought to my world, will remain forever.

His laughter was matched only by his ability to make others laugh.

At the end of grade 7, we went on a class camping trip to Bass Lake Provincial Park.  As far as we could tell, our teacher, modeled his classroom management style after Joseph Stalin. From the perspective of a bunch of dumb, gangly 12-year-old boys, he was mean.

The camping area was a large, rectangular field. Perfect to ensure boys tents lined the perimeter of one side, girls on the other.

In line with our teacher’s overall approach, there was a seemingly endless list of rules. Among them, very precise direction as to when all were required to be in tents and very ominous threats of consequences if not.

As 12-year-olds we had yet to develop much in the way of foresight and probably worse, we had yet to develop any awareness of our limits in that regard.  Despite the dire warnings we came up with, what we believed at the time, was an airtight plan. Immediately after sunset and tent check, we’d leave our tents, bolt across the field under the cover of darkness and visit our classmates with the utmost confidence that none of this would stir even a hint of suspicion. 

Once darkness set in, tent checks complete, the zippers of 16 tents rang out and the charge was on. 

Almost instantly the flaw in our planning was exposed.  Who would think that teachers would patrol the tents after dark? Clearly 12-year-old boys didn’t.

Thankfully almost every one of us detected the flaw immediately, dove back in our tents, with adrenaline surging but safe from suffering the wrath of our teacher supervisors.

Everyone, that is, but Brian.

Peeking through our tent doors, there he was. His silhouette like a gazelle, bounding on an open plane, all on his own, in the dark, cool, damp, spring air completely oblivious to his solitude.

It turns out that teachers must develop an extraordinary capacity to identify 12-year-old running boys in the dark of night.

But as Brian’s luck would have it, that wasn’t his biggest problem.

In a highly predictable twist of fate, the world’s most fearsome teacher spotted him immediately. We cringed as we heard him yell: “Smart, where are you going?”

At that moment, the magnitude of Brian’s initial mistake compounded significantly.  For instead of responding with something like, “I’m just running to the bathroom”, he chose instead to announce, with a completely misplaced sense of sarcasm, at the top of his lungs, “I’m going to an orgy”.

And to make matters much worse, as he was sometimes known to do, he added, “where the fuck do you think I’m going, you asshole?”  

It was too much for 12-year-old boys. We spent years laughing about it.

And that’s what he did more than anyone I know. He laughed a lot and he helped other people laugh a lot.

Equal to his ability to make people laugh was his ability to build big friendships.  He had more best friends than anyone I know; he did it effortlessly, sincerely and happily.  He was as comfortable with his 3-year-old grandson as he was with the 93 year olds he was working with as part of his studies to become a healthcare aid. 

I will always be proud to call him my best friend as I know many others are too.

The span of his musical taste was broad. Together, we saw John Lee Hooker, The Clash, Peter Tosh, Black Uhuru, Talking Heads, The Police (actually more than the musical kind), the English Beat, Flock of Seagulls, Eric Clapton, the Hip, Nash the Slash, lost some/most of our hearing watching the Headstones at the Rivoli and watched some dude throw a banana 125 meters and land right at the feet of Joan Jett - an act of athletic prowess I have yet to witness again.

But his greatest achievement is undoubtedly his family. His son, daughters and his wonderful grandson; they featured prominently and lovingly in virtually every single conversation. Each of his kids inherited his greatest attributes. 

Among the many things uniting the human experience is our frailty. None of us live perfect lives. We all deal with challenges. 

All of us, in our own way, do the very best we can to accommodate those challenges. 

We love our families and friends and care for our communities, our country and the planet.  We count on those we love in our time of need.

This was especially true of Brian.

I am grateful for every second he lived his life.  

I will miss him for as long as I live mine.

R IS FOR REALITY

 

#truestory #lifeisshort

P IS FOR PERSISTENCE

My teacup not only defines the word for today, it defines how I have lived my life so far.
TAKEN: OCTOBER 30th, 2016

O IS FOR ONE

The last thing I did before I left Key West was tour the Hemmingway House.
TAKEN: APRIL 9th, 2022

'I decided that I would write one story about each thing I knew about.'

~Ernest Hemmingway

I know that I have joked here this challenge about 'pub crawls' and 'pool parties' but aside from experiencing the amazing road trip vistas traveling to and from Miami, touring the Hemmingway House was atop of my list of things I wanted to do. 

My husband, wasn't so keen. Touring a home full of cats that just happened to showcase a writing studio that produced seventy percent of Hemmingway's works in the nine years he lived in the house? Meh....

Now I get that not every married couple want to experience the same things, but when my man questioned the whopping $17 price of entry, I told him he could wait outside for me. That way, I got in for half price!

Seriously, from the audio of him delivering his acceptance speech for the Nobel Prize for Literature in 1954 playing in his writing studio, to the amazing architectural bones to the house built in 1851, I feel it was well worth the price of admission.

Sure there was a lot of Hollywood memorabilia but there was also so many original photos and furniture for the time he lived in the home; not to mention an amazing library.

Not everyone's cup of tea. I get it.... But it was a great experience. 

Which is my ONE story I know to write about today.

N IS FOR NATURALLY

When you have the luxury of something and you decide to let it go, naturally you miss it. Some things more than others, yet I feel great childhood memories always linger and ultimately stay ingrained in us forever. 

Being the youngest of four, ideally I got to spend the most time at my Uncle Louis Camp on the beautiful shores of Lake Temiscaming. 

Built in the mid-fifties, the shelter was a mere 650 sq.ft. but the shoreline and property were perfect. It was never used very much, that was until I entered my 'tween' years and my parents began using it in the summer; rather than renting two weeks in the Ottawa Valley. 

I remember the day Auntie Andy took this photo. A great weekend and us so very happy.
Not quite pregnant with the twins... NOR had I discovered need for quality hair care products!
TAKEN: MAY 1991

They agreed (my dad and his eldest brother) that instead of paying rent, my dad would spend his time and money doing upgrades. A win-win for both - and when he passed, my uncle left the property and its contents to my dad.

My last couple of summers in high school, we lived there every weekend. 

The rents would pick me up at the rink in North Bay and we would head east across the border into Quebec.  (My mother’s brother had a camp next door and my father’s sister was just a wee bit further up the lake.)

I believe it was those amazing summers that helped shape me into who I am today. 

We always worked through the day as there was no television, and some Saturday nights there were at least ten of us playing a board game around Auntie's table next door. My mother was as fiercely competitive then, as I am today.  

Over those years, my cousins next door evolved into my sisters, and to this day I cherish all of their children, as I have watched them marry and raise their own families.

As an aside, we did offer to buy my dad out in the late 1990's (he was welcome to stay until he died) and he turned us down. Less than two months later, we bought in Muskoka. 

Just fifteen minutes from our home, we were blessed to offer our children the same shelter I had been given surrounded by loyal friends.  To this day, we still own it but that doesn't stop me from reminiscing. 

... About the first summer we had propane lights, the summer we hand drilled the well with a sledgehammer, or the first time I didn't have to jump in the lake because Poppa put an indoor shower in. Oh, and the fact that we conceived our children there.

All, such amazing and truly vibrant, life long memories! 

M IS FOR MERRIMENT

As I have written here before it takes more effort to frown than smile. 

Christmas morning fun - seven years ago. Look how little my beautiful Annie is?
TAKEN: DECEMBER 25th, 2014

Like a lot of people I know, I have previously struggled with depression. It first appeared and was identified post-partum after Jukebox was born but as the years went on and I conquered the worst of it, I am always aware it could be lurking around the corner.

As a result, I have always been very open in our home about the importance of personal mental health, and as my children entered adulthood and real-life struggles appeared, I was always asking if they wanted to speak to someone outside our core.

I believe advocacy is critical because I had about a year and a half of extensive psychotherapy when the children were small, and during that time, my Psychotherapist armed me with a toolbox of solutions that I still use today. As a result, to this day I am forever grateful to her.

I know in society today that medications usually win as a solution over root cause analysis, but for me, I wanted to understand why I didn’t feel like myself so I took a deep dive and have never been on any type of medication except Advil since leaving her sessions almost twenty years ago.

So, when I was aptly reminded that Dickens wrote that 'Christmas was the season of hospitality, merriment and open-heartedness.' I instantly knew that this was the photo I wanted to share for this letter.

Photographic proof that we truly are all aboard the mental health MERRIMENT train. 

It's just how we love to roll!!

L IS FOR LIFE

 I truly believe that if I threw my life problems into a heap with everyone else’s that I’d quickly scramble to get mine back. 

Not because I wouldn't have preferred to get rid of them, but I feel that being surrounded by the mound of everyone else's, mine would seem pretty insignificant.

The point of my post?

Much happier times on a Mommy/Daughter trip to New Orleans.
TAKEN: June 2019

Life is forever full and evolving of lessons. You either learn from them, or you don’t.

I understand that everyone is different and what may seem like a boulder in front of some (stopping you from moving forward) may only feel like a simple pebble in someone else’s shoe. 

For me, I always try and draw on life experiences and understand what I have learned. I try to use those lessons to help me push through the noise and crap and keep moving forward.

That last bit of advice is based on personal experience. Though it may seem simple, life in general is tricky. Some lessons offer relief, as if you've only scraped your knees. Some feel as though they've truly broken your heart and spirit; while others, bring and offer wonderful opportunity.

I'm a simple gal, that was lucky to marry a man that makes me laugh. As we look toward retirement, we know one thing to be true. We have raised our three children to the best of our ability and wish all of them the nothing but the best. Truly hoping they all find happiness.

So you can understand that it just breaks my heart that almost seven years to the day, history repeated itself. Personal choices were made and once again we were blamed.

With regards to the latter instance,  I have resigned myself to the fact that the current situation is just LIFE!

Sad, yet completely and totally acceptable from where I type... and absolutely fine with the second round of estrangement.

K IS FOR KEY

 I am going to revisit this letter with a better explanation. I am just too upset to share the horrible experience in Grassy Key at this time. 

At more than $800 for the night, we had to share the place with cockroaches.

Thanks for understanding ~ Rhondi

The KEY was as old as the cockroaches that were staying in the room with us!
TAKEN: ARPIL 8th, 2022

J IS FOR JOVIAL

 There are so many words I could have selected for this letter. 

Justified, joyful, jaunt (a very long one) yet I ultimately chose JOVIAL. 

I picked it because it was how I felt when my spouse and I reconnected with my brother (pictured below) over a fifteen hour phone call. Which is truly amazing, considering the three of us hadn’t spoken in as many years.

My big brother in the downstairs room where he first played me Hotel California on his new stereo.
TAKEN: 1983

Growing up, I was the youngest and he the eldest of four. 

Though I have many vibrant memories, my mom making him sit with me to go through the Sears Wish Book catalogue when I was about seven stands out; I can see us sitting at his desk.

That specific exercise was to help her establish what I was hoping Santa was going to bring, which must have been a drag, because as my senior he knew the real deal.

All these years later, I know he did it because he was made to, but I think he will be surprised to read that I still remember our very first Christmas in Ontario at 190 Shier Street like it was yesterday. 

Growing up, I was always in awe of him. He had cool friends, played in a band, did well in school, and always seemed to have a very specific direction. I'm sure the latter had something to do with my mother but I can’t say for sure.

In our clan, he was the first and I the last. Bookends per se, for all the family adventures and stories the others grew up with. He was closest to our mother before her death, me to our dad before his.

As I share the photo I do tonight, you can see I tore it trying to take it out and scan it. So once again this challenge, I share another Kodak moment that is a picture of a picture. Funny how times have digitally changed.

As my big bro sent a text in song for my birthday, I giggled and smiled from ear to ear.

Not just because we’d reconnected…. But because he’d become my newest electronic friend, as well as he has always been one of the very few people I have always enjoy talking on the telephone with.

Who’d a friggin' thunk it? Not this cat!

I IS FOR ISLAMORADA

After a whirlwind long weekend, I am back in Canada, browsing the bazillion photos I took and realizing how much I loved staying in Islamorada.

One never knows what to expect when planning a road trip with Google Chrome and Trip Advisor. In this instance, both those knocked our first night stay out of the freaking ballpark.

The Chesapeake Beach Resort was a total shot in the dark for us and we got lucky!

Our least expensive night of the lot and we had a blast!!

Not because of the night life or five-star restaurants in the area, but simply because of the vibe. Completely laid back, which was exactly what we were hoping for.

Home and settled, we both agree that on our next ‘Toronto Raptor Road Trip’ to Miami to see Kyle Lowry, we definitely have to factor in an two additional nights and head down highway 1.

... Because regardless of everything we did and enjoyed on this bucket list trip, Islamorada was by far (most unexpectedly) the high point in the overall experience department. 

Made it through the car rental process and we are on our way down Hwy 1!
TAKEN: APRIL 6th, 2022

Checked into the hotel and over to Wahoo's for some seafood!
TAKEN: APRIL 6th, 2022

                                                                                          

Our view as the incoming boats settle in for the night.
TAKEN: APRIL 6th, 2022

Chilaxin' by the pool which is where we stayed until it closed.
TAKEN: APRIL 6th, 2022

Enjoying our 8am sunrise as we prepare to head to to Margaritaville
TAKEN: APRIL 7th, 2022

H IS FOR HAPPY HER-DAY

 

By the way, this shot took four cupcakes!!
TAKEN: April 2, 2022

Today is the amazing Miya Maria’s first birthday and I can’t begin to express how much joy this little rascal has brought to us and everyone she meets around her.

I knew I would be away to celebrate with her in person, so I planned a little party and photoshoot before we left. Excited at the thought, I told my husband what I wanted to do. As expected, he rolled his eyes, told me I was crazy, then drove me all about town to shop for props.

My first stop, Dollarama. I immediately made a beeline for the party section. As I perused the plethora of beautiful birthday hats that man with the ever-rolling eyes whom refused to stay in the car piped up with, "you know, she’s not going to keep that stupid thing on her head.” Knowing he was right, I made a second purchase of the headband you see here.

Next stop, Dollar Tree. For better candles and the hope for a nicer hat. No hat but I scored the candles for a buck then headed to Wal-Mart in search of the perfect cupcake. Only packages of twelve mini ones there, and my driver and I agreed we did not need to eat the leftovers. Grabbed what else was needed and back to the car we went.

Open the hatch and there you have it. Miya had shredded the hat, ripped apart three of the four headbands (which now simply read APPY RTHDAY) and the candles were missing. All I could do was carry on my quest. All my husband could do was laugh!

Not to take my eye off the ball, into the grocery store I went and headed for the bakery. What the hell, they wanted $1.99 for one stinkin’ cupcake?

Again the man with the ever-rolling eyes who officially named it Let’s Laugh At Rhondi Day chimed in yet again, “there is no way she is going to do this thing in one cupcake.” 

Dang, he was right again. So this time I rolled my eyes and bought a pack of four.

There really is no handbook for what stupidity looks like. But on that day, this quest officially deserved to post my picture next to the word in the dictionary. 

Over six attempts, with three dogs, four cupcakes and one headband left I did it. Not proud of the journey but happy with the result.

Please join me in wishing the beautiful Miya a Happy Her-Day. We celebrate her today as she was the perfect gift I gave myself last year at this time.

You see, on this day last year, she was MIYA BIRTHDAY PRESENT!

...Thanks again for reading.

G IS FOR GORGEOUS

A tiki boat riding into the sunset at the southernmost point of the United States
TAKEN: APRIL 7th, 2020

Early morning Sunrise in Grassy Key
TAKEN: APRIL 8th, 2022