The Family Salm

Trudging Around My Garden

2009-02-06T09:21:00.000-08:00

Your thermometer in your garden might be registering 23°C--and so is mine! But that's quite a different 23°, on the opposite side of zero. Shoulda taken a picture of that!

How fondly I remember February in Vancouver, with snowdrops and crocuses, pink buds of rhododendrons, birds gone wild, singing madly. The ground soggy, but green. This is the brightest spot in my Brampton garden:

Am I bitter? Never!

My mom is spending the days with us now, as she recovers from the insertion of a pacemaker to keep her heart from leaping wildly from 50 to 170 beats per minute. I'm sooo glad to be able to keep her company and help in a small way. We're reading David Copperfield aloud as a family and I think she's enjoying it.

And boy, we don't let the snow stop us from getting out into our little garden. Sebastian's shovelled a path around the perimeter so that we can throw the Kong around for Moxie.

All is well and we're patient.

Now get yourself over the Sheila's and see what's happening in her garden:
http://greenridgechronicles.blogspot.com/2009/02/perambulating-in-garden.html

Interiors

2009-01-29T06:30:00.000-08:00

More than thirty years ago, I pasted this cheap and cheerful paper onto the walls of my laundry room.

I couldn't have known that 4,500 km away, someone thought it would be just perfect for the long wall in their living/dining room. After bitching about it for over 6 months, we finally rolled up our sleeves and did this:

And this:

After Sebastian washed and primed the wall I was truly on the hook, so I picked my colours and invited the family over to help with this:

That's my incredibly hard-working brother Bob, cheerfully finishing up that evening. Thanks also to Emil, my brother-in-law, who was volunteered for the job, and laboured like Hercules nevertheless.

How I obsessed over that colour. For months I sat in libraries scanning decorating books and mags for colour ideas, worried that I would pick something and hate it later. I wanted a calm room with light colours, but felt hamstrung by our humongous black couch. When I found Shadow Grey and Sweet Innocence by Benjamin Moore, I worried that it would be too dark. But as it turns out, it was an inspired choice: greys with just a touch of blue. The long wall is a little darker and the lighter wall colour ranges from violet to charcoal depending on the light and angle but it's hard to see in the photos.

It's just the beginning, of course. I'm just starting on freshening up the paint on the baseboards and we have plans for stripes on the end wall in the dining room. Then it's fabrics for drapes and pillows, moving up the piano, looking for art, a mirror, side tables and lamps, maybe a rug. I don't know how long it all will take, but it feels so good to finally start to make this house our own.

Wordless Wednesday

2009-01-28T08:18:00.000-08:00

Moxie Crimefighter

The Family Salm Grows

2009-01-23T06:53:00.000-08:00

If you've ever taken on the task of raising, housebreaking, training, cleaning up after, entertaining, worrying about and paying for, a new puppy, you'll know I'm a little pressed for time. And stressed out. Bijou's Moxie Crimefighter lies sleeping for the moment at my feet. But not for long.

Sure, she looks sweet. But what you don't see is those razor-sharp teeth that she obsessively tries to attached to anything that passes. Your ankles. Your couch. Your down-filled ski jacket. Your snow boots. Yes, even sprayed with "Bitter Yuck," those boots are irresistible.

Did I mention ankles? And fingers? And the soft, fleshy part behind-the-knees?

The Garden Grows

2008-09-07T09:41:00.000-07:00

My new neighbour asked me the other day how the painting was coming along inside the house and I had to confess that other than the inside of the kitchen cabinets, nothing at all had been done. But that is only because we've been working on the outside instead. Do you remember this from July?

Well, a few weeks ago, it looked like this:

And now we have this:

Although the grape arbour was beautiful, there are only so many times you want to clean racoon poop off your deck. You could hear the rustle of the little scoundrels up there every evening, and what a mess they would make. Does anyone know if there's a such a thing as a grape vine that doesn't have fruit?

Only the maple tree, a couple of sedums and hostas, and a burning bush in the front were left. I've added a serviceberry tree and a lovely little red-twigged dogwood to the back. They're tiny yet, but they'll grow.

Years ago, a friend amused me greatly by confessing that she took the Reader's Digest Gardening in Canada to bed with her every evening. Now I must also confess a growing fascination, although I tend more towards the Marjorie Harris books myself. Within the next few years, I hope to fill that raised bed with trees, bushes, vines, perennials, etc. in soft soothing colours. This is my very first garden, in our very first house, and already I'm wishing I had more space! Maybe something like Sheila's terrific garden back on the West Coast?

Robert John Pickering

2008-08-20T04:31:00.000-07:00

June 19, 1925 - August 6, 2008

One of the reasons we moved from British Columbia to Ontario was to be near to my Dad. We had seen him at Christmas and I returned in January to help my sister and brothers with the miserable task of moving him into a nursing home. I didn't think anything could make me sadder than that. On Wednesday, August 6th, he died in palliative care in the local hospital and we all learned a new lesson in heartbreak.

Dad suffered from Alzheimer's, complicated by Aphasia. It was difficult to communicate with him, but he enjoyed our visits and a joke, a pretty girl or a child could still make him smile. He liked to be pushed in his wheelchair around the neighbourhood and seemed to appreciate any talk about visiting England.

Here, in my sister Kim's words, is what happened. This is from her excellent letter to the Ministry of Health and Long Term Care:

During a visit with Dad on July 20, along with my Mother, it was obvious to us that Dad was uncomfortable and experiencing some pain. He had recently been treated for a diaper rash and the nursing staff and Personal Support Workers (PSWs) assured us that this issue had been cleared up. I relayed information to the PSWs on July 20, that Dad was experiencing discomfort and judging from his behaviour thought he might have a bladder infection.

My Mother was in every day thereafter and repeatedly made requests for a urine sample to be taken. She spoke to the Charge Nurse in Dad’s unit, as well as to the PSW staff. She also spoke to the Director of Nursing. While the Director of Nursing was most accommodating, the urine sample was still not taken. My understanding is that the staff tried on numerous occasions to obtain a sample but were unsuccessful. Repeat requests by my Mother were met with cavalier unconcern and in fact, she felt very much as if she was being patronized. Dad’s discomfort grew during the week but by the 24th and 25th he seemed very sleepy and it was difficult to even feed him. They were, apparently, able to get a urine sample on Friday, July 25th – however we have no idea whether they processed the sample or not.

We were out of town on Saturday but received a call early Sunday, August 27th from Sandalwood Park to advise that Dad had been taken to the Brampton Civic Hospital. The charge nurse from Sandalwood Park informed me that Dad had been very agitated on Saturday night and they administered extra Atavan to calm him down. At approximately 5 a.m. on Sunday they discovered that Dad’s “level of consciousness was very low.’

Upon admission to Emergency, Dad was in severe pain. He was diagnosed with acute renal failure, caused by an untreated, acute urinary tract infection. He was also suffering from a low-level pneumonia, which, in the Doctor’s opinion, was likely caused by food aspiration. He was very dehydrated and in absolute agony. The catheter was full of pus and blood. He was unable to do anything except repeatedly pull his legs up to his chest and scream in pain. Except that you couldn’t really hear him scream as he had aspirated on food and required frequent suction to clear out his throat. Dad was unable to swallow and repeated attempts to insert an NG tube were unsuccessful. He was admitted to the Palliative Care wing of [the local] Civic Hospital on Saturday, August 2nd. He died on Wednesday, August 6th at approximately 5:15 p.m.

By copy of this letter and on behalf of my family, I wish to lodge a formal complaint against the nursing and PSW staff of the Sanders Unit at The Village of Sandalwood Park. The specific issues are these:

• Lack of care and timely response to our concerns. A blatant disregard for the fact that we TOLD them Dad was in pain and we ASKED them to run a urine sample a full week before he was admitted to the hospital.

• They were the care givers and the health care professionals. Where was the compassion – they were the ones who were entrusted with the care and well-being of our father – why didn’t they take us seriously? If they had difficulty obtaining a urine sample by putting him on the toilet, why didn’t they order a catheter? In fact, why didn’t they have the staff doctor take a look at him?

• In conversation with the General Manager, Jennifer Simpson, of Sandalwood Park on Monday, July 28, we were informed that Dad’s file contained a standing order to administer Atavan every 8 hours (3x daily) as well as on an as needed basis. This was contrary to the instructions I issued during the family health care conference on May 28, in which I requested they administer Atavan on an as needed basis ONLY. In fact, Jennifer Simpson admitted surprise at the standing order as she was in attendance at the conference and recalled the conversation.

• Despite being told that Dad was in discomfort they CHOSE to label his pain as agitation. So what did they do? They over-medicated him with an ANTI-PSYCHOTIC drug – despite everything we told them. They administered a significant amount of Atavan all week, to the point where he was non-responsive – enough to mask his agony. Remember – pus and blood in the catheter when he was admitted on the 27th – which lasted a week. How long did he suffer with this before he was admitted?

• Aspiration and Urinary Track Infections are very common in the elderly. Where was the quick response time to nip a potentially life threatening condition in the bud?

• When admitted to Emergency, his teeth were covered in food. No wonder he aspirated on food which subsequently lead to his low-level pneumonia. Where was the concern for his oral health and respiration?

We are shocked at the events leading up to Dad’s death and we are broken-hearted about his untimely demise. It is our opinion that his death was precipitated by Sandalwood Park’s gross negligence. Had they responded in a timely manner, diagnosed the problem and prescribed antibiotics, this may have been avoided. Shame on them.

The whole family stayed with him in palliative care, and took turns spending the night with him. Mom and I were there at the end, and I hope it gave him some comfort. It still seems very unreal, and we're all a loose ends without nursing home visits to make.

My father and I were not very close, since I spent the last 20 years on the other side of the country. Dad was smart, articulate, charming—and stubborn. Like me, he was an atheist, but was so conservative in his viewpoint, that he once argued for prayer in school in a disagreement we had. But he was always very generous and so clearly loved us all. We all ache for him and we will never be the same.

Critical Thinking 101

2008-07-25T06:07:00.000-07:00

This should be required viewing for all kids, every year. And adults. There's just not enough critical thinking in this world.

Here be Dragons

Home Sweet Home

2008-07-20T15:53:00.000-07:00

June 29, Ontario

We're still camping, but now it's in our own home. We arrived Thursday night, the 26th, after nine days travel. The family welcomes us with such generosity and I'm overwhelmed by happiness and gratitude. The garden is now like a jungle,

and now that the house is empty, I notice so many little annoying details of shoddy workmanship that I have to consciously direct my mind from seeking them out and spoiling the whole effect. Because really, this is the perfect house for us. Only four minutes drive from my sister's and mom's house, and a five minute walk from a park and a conservation area. The park leads into a municipal trail that is 14.5 km. long. It takes us to the library in 20 minutes, and we can bike from one end of the city to the other if we like. We're 2 minutes from a major highway that will take us into the city in 30 minutes (if the traffic co-operates), yet we're in a quiet 30-year-old subdivision, close to shopping. The house is huge. After 19 years of always being near enough to carry on a conversation with someone at the other end of the apartment, we're constantly losing each other in here. And my knees, after 9 days of sitting in the van, are protesting the number of stairs in a big back-split like this. 26 steps from my bedroom to the laundry room. 16 stairs just to get from the car to the kitchen.

Dan the mover arrived yesterday morning with our stuff and we spent 4 hours trying in vain to check off all the boxes and items from Dan's master list. I think we've got it all, but only time will tell. In the meantime, we're still using our camping gear and and wandering around the house in a daze, full of ideas, and dreams for the future, trying to take it all in. This is going to be a big adjustment for us all.

Nine Days, 4736 miles

2008-07-20T12:46:00.000-07:00

June 22, Swift Current, Saskatchewan

My skin's turned pink and freckled and my hair has that dandelion-gone-to-seed apearance, but finally I have found my camping groove. My camp kitchen is organized and I have my minions trained to set up and break camp in an orderly manner. And when I get up off that cold, hard ground in the mornings, I no longer feel battered. With his golf cart battery and inverter, Sebastian grinds the coffee beans fresh every morning and declares he could go on like this forever.

No so Leila. For her, the only saving grace is WiFi access in the campground here in Swift Current.

Departure was chaotic. That day we packed like fiends, racing against Dan the mover and his boys as they loaded over 144 boxes, our piano and furniture into the semi-trailer. It was rush hour before we said our farewells and made the last drop-off to the Sally Ann and the library. By the time we had set up our tent by Lake Osoyoos it was midnight. The wind howled over the water like a thousand demons, flinging sand in our eyes and whipping the tent out of our hands at every opportunity. Exhausted but stressed to the max, I tried to sleep, but Lindt chocolate, screaming winds, nagging doubts and a severe lack of padding under my sleeping bag, conspired to keep me tossing and turning for hours. At 3:30 I woke Sebastian to ask if he thought the wind might blow the van over on top of us. He gave me that WTF look and I burst into tears, then laughed, then cried again. I conked out shortly after.

Since then, every day has been better than the last, and we're enjoying the experience. I always protested that this tent was too big for me to set up by myself, but here's Leila doing it all by herself in Lundbreck Falls, Alberta.

Lundbreck Falls also had the lumpiest ground of any I've slept on, and here's the little varmint who was responsible.

Camping has changed in the last 25 years. I don't remember ever seeing signs on the water taps warning you to boil the water for 5 minutes, but so far that's been the case. Nor to I remember so many fancy RVs. I've been reading Starting Out in the Afternoon by Jill Frayne, who describes them as:

...freighted with the comforts of home: campers that puff up into livingrooms sprouting awnings and Astroturf steps, motorhomes equipped with generators to power microwaves, TVs and hot water tanks.... Outside are scooters and bikes, lawn chairs arranged under tarps, twelve-by-sixteen mesh tents rigged over picnic tables. Sheltered under these contrivances are rotisserie barbecues, propane lamps, camp stoves, coolers the size of doghouses, twenty-litre water barrels. Motorboats squeezed ingeniously into the sites, bristle with fishing gear. I notice a practice of keeping a leaping campfire going at all times, even if everyone's inside.

And were there always so many trucks on the road? At least half of all traffic seems to be freight trucks. I'm so glad Sebastian's such a confident and capable driver.

We are fascinated by the wind farms in Alberta, and heartened.

June 24, Nipigon, Ontario

We are deep in DEET country, and it's a particularly nightmarish place to be. If you ever must camp on the North Shore of Lake Superior, I suggest you give the Silver Birch Campground a wide berth. Imagine setting up a tent, doing your laundry, eating dinner, all the time all the time one-handed, while you use the other to wave away the mosquitoes. All night long the trucks roar down the highway, but it's really a minor annoyance compared to the bugs. Leila claims 60 bites and some of them are quite swollen.

At first, Ontario is sweet relief from the dry flat prairies and reminds us all of Vancouver Island. By Kenora, we're crabby and getting on each other's nerves, but it all evaporates when we get to our campsite at Rushing River. We're right on Dogtooth Lake, very private with an incredible view. This is the first campsite where I could image staying for a few days. The water does NOT have a warning! I see my first beaver, paddling up the lake with just his head out. The dog next door sees him too, and Mr. Beaver slaps the water with his tail and disappears. Leila sees her first chipmunk, cute as any 13-year-old could wish. What a relief it all is. Across the lake are stacks of canoes and there's a sign warning that wakes are prohibited. We eat salad and hot dogs and corn on the cob, grapes and roasted mashmallows. Too bad this place is 3 day's drive from our new home and we're on such a tight schedule.

Two days before, stopped at a Tourist Information Centre just inside the Manitoba border, Sebastian spied a Great Canadian Van Lines truck racing east. "There's our stuff!" he cried, and we hopped back into the van to give chase. It took a good 5 minutes to catch him, but sure enough, it was Dan the mover at the wheel. "Want your stuff?" he called. Unable to maintain his 120+ km/h speed, we let him go.

No Comment

2008-05-27T10:12:00.000-07:00

Eye Evolution

2008-05-07T15:05:00.000-07:00

As part of the Expelled Exposed site, there are a series of educational videos to counter creationist claims. They're short, simple, and easy to understand.

The search for a home is over!

2008-05-04T21:55:00.000-07:00

After almost 4 weeks of traipsing through a wide variety of houses, we've finally found our new home in Brampton. It's a 5-level backsplit, with 4 bedrooms, 2 bath, air conditioning, fireplace, full basement and single garage. Quite a departure from the little 2-bedroom apartment we've spent the last 19 years in.

I think I was so overwhelmed by the huge size and great condition of the interior of the house that I didn't see the yard very clearly until I got home and showed the pictures to Sebastian. So this is what we'll be working on this summer: trying to make something out of this space before we tackle anything else.

Good grief, it makes you wonder, what were these people thinking? Or did they just sit under their grape arbour and shut out the rest of the yard?

Any design ideas, any advice, gratefully accepted. We may yet save up our pennies and get professional help, because this is truly way beyond a novice gardener's scope. The drainage seems quite crucial, with the way the yard slopes up at the back, and slants down at the sides to direct water away from the house. As is common in Southern Ontario, the soil is dense clay. It actually looks like very little has been done since the builder laid some sod over the clay 30 years ago.

I so want to be able to enjoy my little back yard. After all these years in one of the most beautiful city neighbourhoods in Vancouver--or the country for that matter--we want to make a green oasis for ourselves in this deeply suburban community. Vancouver nights are quite cool, so I'm looking forward to being able to sit outside late into the evening again.

A Sure Sign of Procrastination

2008-03-27T13:50:00.000-07:00

When the bookkeeping is piling up, what do I choose to do with my time?

Here is a sample of what I'm doing today: No Knead Bread, whole wheat and walnut version. I thought you'd like to see it before I sneak those scrumptious walnuts off the top.

5 Years Ago

2007-11-27T10:09:00.000-08:00

The significance of this photo doesn't immediately jump out at you.

What a darling at 7, with her hair up on top of her head, and that little green cotton jumper. But look a little closer, at the whiteboard in the background, where it says EEG, June 18 @ 9 am. Underneath that it says midnight–5 am. That was all the sleep Leila (and mom) were allowed the night before the big event, so that she (and mom) would be as tired and off her game as possible.

It all started at the dining room table, during our school time. Leila would suddenly stop what she was doing, or reading, or saying, and just stare off into the air. Only for 10 seconds or so, but it was plain that she could neither see or hear me when it happened. She had absolutely no awareness that she was doing it. Sometimes she would repeat a syllable over and over. Once it happened in the middle of a piano lesson, with her hands poised over the keys, totally blank.

At first I thought she was just a spacey little kid, but then the words "petit mal" flashed into my brain like a neon sign. And sure enough, that's what it was, a form of epilepsy officially known as absence seizures. Leila spent two years on anti-seizure medication. The weeks before, waiting for a diagnosis, watching her so carefully, keeping off her bike, and after, as we tapered her dosage and watched again for symptoms, were some of the worst in my life. How often Leila longed to be just like every other little girl. Or barring that, to have a friend right next door who was also adopted from China, homeschooled, with a medic alert bracelet that said Peanut Allergy, Absence Seizures. Being different is the hardest thing when you're 7.

Now I seldom think of that time, over 5 years ago—until I read Kimberly Geswein's blog entries about her little Katie. They are in Beijing today, while Katie has her first EEG. Everyone here in the Family Salm is rooting for you and sending you our very best wishes, Kimberly and Katie.

Poetry for Goats

2007-11-16T17:07:00.000-08:00

You know what it's like, when a neighbour phones you to invite you to a potluck poetry event, and you're thinking, Oh, no, not poetry, I'd rather have dental surgery, but gee, they're nice people, and I did say I wanted to get out socially more, and it's only two doors down, I could slip away if it's awful, so...OK, sure, I'll be there. And then the time approaches and you think, Geez, why did I say I'd go to this thing? And then suddenly you're there and you're hit with this gust of joyfulness and warmth, that is, as Bill Bissett says, Excellent.

If, like me, you've never read or heard Bill Bissett, check him out at: in th whirlwind. You can hear him in Real Audio and see his drawings as well.

Good food, good people and a good cause: Goats for Third World Families, through Oxfam. Besides Mr. Bissett, we heard the poems of Miranda Pearson and my neighbour, Geoff Inverarity.

I'm so honoured to have been included.

Why I won't be driving in China

2007-11-06T20:40:00.000-08:00

Tianjin Morning Traffic - Awesome video clips here

A big thanks to Kimberly Geswein in Tianjin for her optimism, resilience and humour, as well as this great video clip. Oh, and the font for my title is hers as well. You can check out her blog and her lovely little girls here.

I'm also indebted to Super Happy Girl (linked in the sidebar) who has been so helpful in getting this blog off the ground. I love you Pan-Pan.

Between teaching a class in Physics to 4 teens, studying Mandarin and a course in Teaching English as a Foreign Language and trying to clean out this apartment to get it ready for subletting, I'm about to tear my hair out in frustration. Posting may be a little sparse for a few weeks, but I hope you'll understand.

Ni Hao and a Short Introduction

2007-10-26T08:27:00.000-07:00

Sandy, by the grace of Nothing, Queen of this Apartment, Lady of Kits, Duchess of Vancouver and the GVRD, and Countess of British Columbia, to her merchants, dentists, doctors, librarians, garbage men, cashiers, family and loyal friends, Greetings.

OK, so I'm not writing the Magna Charta. This is a just a simple blog by a homeschool mom to let my family and friends know what's happening with our family as we prepare to leave for Shanghai in January. Priorities at the moment are to tidy up and sublet the apartment, sell the RV, learn some Mandarin and try to keep the homeschool bus from running off the road while we prepare. All this before we go to Ontario for Christmas.

When we brought our daughter home from China in 1995, we vowed that learning about her cultural heritage would be a priority. We attended FCC events, celebrated Chinese New Year and, most relevant to our minds, enrolled her in Mandarin lessons at 5. How naïve we were! We know now that copying hundreds of thousands of characters does not make a Mandarin speaker. Nor does an enthusiastic teacher’s kind compliments and inflated marks on homework. If I could do it all over again, I would have started learning the language at the same time she did, but I was full of excuses. (Oh, I’m still learning French, or the Latin’s so much work already.)

Then last spring my husband, Sebastian, took a job mixing sound on a movie that shot in China and fell under the China spell. We tease him that he just likes the bargain shopping, but I know it goes deeper. He feels we can help to make a meaningful connection for Leila, as well as give her language skills a boost.

I know, some will say we are still naïve. But we are striking out for adventure and it’s never failed us yet.