Happy Holidays from the Pugsley Street Posse

I always want to start off every Christmas letter by exclaiming, "Where the heck did the year go?" and I'm sure you feel the same way. I remember "older people" always telling me that time will go by quickly the older I get, and now here I am, stuck in that time super highway, desperately trying to slow everything down! According to some physics theory, as Brad patiently tries to explain to me, the faster a motion is, the slower time will go. So why does it seem that when I'm rushing from the point A's of life to the point B's of life, I don't have enough time to do what it is that I intend to do? I think he'll have to re-explain that theory to me because it isn't fitting in to this artist's logic of the world. haha But what a deliciously fantastic year it has been; full of creativity, love, and adventure even if it has gone by at lightning speed.

Last winter started off with a lot of excitement, as Brad moved in at the beginning of December 2010, and shared Christmas holidays with Alexander, Sandy the Wonder Dog and I. We all got caught up in the chaos of feasting, jamming to carols, burning down sliding hills in dangerous positions, spending time with families, and kissing under the mistletoe. *blush* We headed down the highway to Brad's stomping grounds on Boxing Day where the Beckman's put on an annual skating party/bonfire. Alexander had his first hand at playing hockey and really enjoyed himself, not coming off the ice until he was literally numb. I on the other hand, didn't attempt to put on my old figure skates and preferred to sit by the fire and meet all of Brad's family, extended family and friends. What a fun crew!

It wasn't long before Brad had to pack his bags though, and headed "South" to Ottawa to attend Algonquin College for Part 1 of his apprentice for plumbing. We were very thankful for technology and the ability to keep in touch daily through Skype.  It made me think a lot about the war time wives and how horrible it must have been to not hear from their better half for excruitatingly long periods to time, if at all, which kept me humble and remembering how lucky we truly are to have the conveniences we have today. We continued to have our nightly reading time with Alexander and got through Book 3 of the Harry Potter series via Skype. It was also quite romantic to send and receive letters back and forth and send care packages to remind Brad of home. He was quite embarrassed, yet thrilled, when I sent him a big bouquet of sunflowers for his birthday and he had to carry them to class before having the opportunity to take them back to his dorm! All of that time apart was not in vain, as Brad got an almost perfect GPA, and even spent time tutoring other students and teaching some of the math classes when it was apparent that he was doing a better job of explaining the theories than the professor! (Oh, he's going to hate that I'm bragging for him. haha)

While he was gone, I was busily preparing for an art show, and spent most of my alone time working in my studio. Unfortunately the show was postponed, but will supposedly run this summer, so I will have an opportunity to re-apply for the show and hopefully show what happens when someone is holed up in a studio for two months!!! haha

Here's a link to my Facebook art page. Enjoy browsing around!

 At the same time, I was also in the process of preparing to direct a community mural program, as artistic director of three groups that painted murals around the theme of "My Red Lake". I was the leader for the teenage group, and we had a blast getting together once a week through the summer months, making a wild mural that focuses on what it's like to be a teenager in a small northern town. If you are ever going by the OPP station, check it out. It is posted on the Treasure House building thanks to the generosity of the Weaver family.  My son also participated in the program and painted a mural about his favourite activities; biking and fishing in the summer, and skiing in the winter. That mural can be seen downtown on the fence beside the pharmacy. I love that our downtown is coming alive with colour and creativity!

 Alexander also spent time in his studio, conjuring up his next award winning Science Fair idea. He won a "scholarship" from the University of Toronto's Young Engineer program and also an Ontario Hydro award for his idea about solar power and how variants in the colour of the light source changes the amount of power given to a controlled object such as a remote controlled vehicle. Where does he come up with this stuff??? I'm curious to see what he's going to design for this year, albeit the older he gets, the less I understand regarding his scientific interests. The important part is that I support him in what he does, and it's also a big time guarantee that I am NOT one of those parents that does their project for their child. haha

Brad and Alexander usually spend the weekends waking up early and scheming on different inventions and designs, theorizing about concepts around time and space and speed and force and all of those things that allow me to sleep in on Sunday mornings. They worked on a trebuchet this summer which is kind of a flingy catapult, and had a working model in the yard. The intent was to make a huge trebuchet on Brad's property out by Vermilion Bay. Eventually, we are going to see pianos and pumpkins flying great distances, so keep your head up if you're in the neighbourhood, and perhaps keep your cat indoors. haha Just kidding, kind of.
It was only fitting that Brad, Alexander and I went to the Leonardo da Vinci exhibit in Winnipeg this fall, so that they could tinker with replicas of his amazing inventions and I had an opportunity to get a closer look at his intricately detailed art work and learn more about the mystery behind the Mona Lisa painting.

                    
Summer came upon us quickly and we busily got to work on the "BoBeckman" farm, making the gardening plot a bit bigger, planting a ton of veggies and working on other landscaping projects. We finished off the rock pathway and Brad built a beautiful gate using birch trees and adding permanent planters at the bottom of the gate so that annual ivy can shimmy up the gate in the summer. My perennials (compliments of the late Leni Sadtler) worked double time this year, and I even had the opportunity to divide and share my plants, twice! Even though it was a hot, dry, fire riddled summer, we were able to use mainly rain water to keep everything lush and productive.  Brad and Alexander have big plans to create some kind of recycled water system with pipes (and God knows what) dug underneath the yard. Next summer we're considering making the garden even bigger, and I still want to have an outdoor tub to lounge in under the stars in the evening. I'll definitely have to invest in some mosquito netting!

We also had an opportunity to go on a super fun vacation after Brad and I pointed to a dot on the map and decided a road trip west would be fun. We did a bit of research but kind of let the wind just take us, with the destination of Saskatoon in mind. The goal was to go to the Saskatoon Ex. The true fun was in the journey there and back though, stopping in every small town along the way, exploring abandoned farmsteads, stopping in an artist community to give a critique of all the paintings at a local gallery (They asked me! It was quite entertaining!), stopping in at a sod house in Elbow, Saskatchewan, enjoying the sand dunes at Great Spirit Lake, coming back to a soaked tent at midnight, meeting a luthier who let us into his home to try out all of his beautifully made instruments and tour his workshop (eventhough he had to clean the house because his girlfriend was coming over), and of course, counting endless cows and hay bales. I love the prairies!

We even had the opportunity to meet up with one of my dearest friends, Steph, and her kids who were heading back to Alberta after being in Red Lake, while we were heading back home. Yet again, because of the power of technology, we were able to communicate via cell phones, meeting up at a greasy spoon on the trans-Canada, somewhere on the border of Saskatchewan and Manitoba for one last hug goodbye until we meet again. This road trip was a great way to break in the new truck we bought at the beginning of the year. I sure missed my big red truck, so we bought a Chevy Silverado and it's giving us the pleasure of tromping through the bush and across the country yet again.

We also spent an excellent  couple of days at the Winnipeg Folk Fest, with the highlight being KD Lang. If you ever get the opportunity to see her live, don't miss out. The ticket price will be worth it. She has a phenomenal stage presence on top of her incredible voice, and she'll have you weeping one minute and on your feet dancing the next. But keep in mind if you're going to the Folk Fest and you don't have intentions of camping, that you should seriously consider booking a hotel room well in advance. We learned that the hard way, after having to spend a creepy night at the Montcalm! I still pucker when I think about that experience! Lesson learned!

Here's a link to the blog about that "interesting" experience.

September came quickly and I was back in the saddle, teaching the awesome students that make my job entertaining on a daily basis. I swear, I learn more from them than they do of me. And nothing makes me more proud than to see them grow into the beautiful, intelligent people that they become in those short four years that I have the opportunity to spend with them. Many graduates swing by for visits and it's awesome to hear about their life journeys. That is one of the perks of living in a small town, I guess, because Red Lake has a way of bringing people back to see what they've left behind. It's not sooooo bad here afterall! :)

Along with our busy jobs, Brad and I also had the task of harvesting everything in our garden and deciding what to do with it. We made many a jar of pickles this year, along with pickled beans, cajun pickled beans, salsa, and canned tomatoes. We have a freezer full of shredding beets, carrots and more tomatoes to get us through the winter. Yum. But all of the canning created a ripple effect as we decided to make a cold room in the basement, which led to adding extra walls, which led to redesigning the whole space downstairs, and finishing the laundry room. Brad has almost completed the drywalling, taping, mudding and sanding of the den (his man cave and music room...haha) and I'll most likely spend the Christmas holidays doing a lot of painting and decorating.

But we are about to have our lives changed again, as Brad has decided to take a job at with KPDSB as one of their maintenace men. We are thrilled that he will have steady hours from 7 to 3 so that we can spend more time together as a family to do all of the crazy, kooky things that make us who we are. Change is good, and that's the way we roll around here!

And on that note, I'm off to spend more time with my kooky family and hope that you have the time to do the same with yours. We hope that your year has been filled with joy and that your future is filled with adventure surrounded by the people you love.

Happy holidays!

Love Rhonda, Brad, Alexander and Sandy the Wonder Dog



Midnight at the Oasis?

You know that dreaded feeling you get when you walk into a gas station bathroom and it’s so filthy that you worry your vulva might disintegrate if it makes contact with the porcelain? And you know the more dreaded feeling of desperation when you know you have to succumb to that horrible idea simply because if you don’t you will most likely spontaneously combust in the nether regions? I think it is subtle control in the gas station industry….the attendants could care less whether the bathrooms are clean or not. They know that you’ll go if you really have to go and they’re tired of cleaning up after you if you’re not even willing to spend a dime there. I picture them thinking, “Go ahead and take a shit. You’re not going to like it. Heh. Heh.” 

Now apply that same feeling of desperation to this scenario; imagine that it is almost 1am and you have been on a manic search for a hotel room in the city for close to an hour during one of the busiest festivals the city hosts. “Sorry, we’re full. Um….do you know there’s a festival this weekend?” is equivalent in hotel front desk lingo to “Are you stupid?” Yes, we had intentions of sleeping in our tent which was already set up and ready to go, but it started to rain and we just got lazy I guess, and decided we didn’t want to be tough Canadians after all. We were succumbing to the notion of comfort. That was a very, very bad mistake. 

When we drove past the Montcalm, we cut our losses, reasoned that it was only for a night, and took the room. The thought of sitting naked on that bed sheet still makes my butt pucker. I just couldn’t do it. We should have known something was fishy when we were given room number “zero”. Yes, that is right. Our door actually said “Room # 0”. It was beautifully printed onto white paper and scotch taped to the door. What does room zero mean?! Does it mean that as soon as the door opens you’re going to enter zero gravity? No, we quickly realized that the zero means zero maintenance to the room and absolutely zero cleaning duties. 

You know, I’ve dealt with a lot of dirt in my days. I’ve worked some pretty crazy jobs, and ironically, my first job was working for a restaurant picking garbage in the parking lot. And I was a waitress in my university days and there’s nothing greasier than dealing with slippery plates all day. Plus, that was back in the days when everyone was allowed to smoke in restaurants, so not only was it dirty, it was stinky too. I can go on about a plethora of different experiences with dirt, but man, room zero was just downright gross. The toilet rim was indescribable. (Poop is supposed to descend vertically from the body, is it not?) Why was there a partially used bar of soap in the grayish, brownish, tannish, yellowish bathtub. Where were the bath towels? Did we want to use them even if they had any? Brad found a Winnipeg Sun in the dresser that was dated March 18^th, 2011. We figure that was the last time the room was cleaned. 

 And at the same time that I was appalled that we actually paid to sleep in filth, I was also appalled that I was being such a wuss about it. Am I that OCD about dirt that I can’t handle a bit of goo? I have slept on dirt in the bushes. I actually slept in a horse shoe pit in a camp ground once. I woke up with a lot of sand in my mouth and for some reason that was ok with me. And I have been puked on, pooped on, peed on. I’m a mom. It happens a lot. And I’ve also been to a lot of crazy parties where that also happens a lot.  And then there are the times that I’ve walked through the bush and picked up the occasional moose turd. I marvel in the fact that I am holding something that came out of the rectum of a large hairy mammal. For some reason, that seems ok to me. Moose poop is all natural. It has fluctuated between being washed in the rain and baked by the sun and in my mind that seems clean. 

So why was I being such a freak about this place? We were both being freaks about the place. Brad and I polished off a full bottle of wine, swig style, in a matter of minutes to try and deaden the anxiety of sleeping, hover-style, over the bed sheets. Usually in a hotel room, I take the bed spread off immediately, because I’ve seen too many CSI shows that use black lights to emphasize “stains”. But in this case, I wasn’t too sure which layer to peel off and sleep on. I longed for the soggy tent and was creeped out completely. I started making assumptions about what happened in that room to earn this status in my mind. After all, the bar downstairs is called “Lipstixx” with the token XXX. They advertise that the dancers start at noon on both Thursdays and Fridays and even give “shower shows”. I wondered if their shower floors were any cleaner than room zero’s was and then thought perhaps that is what the shower shows actually were….hotel room tenants simply trying to get clean after spending a night in room creepy. 

I also made the assumption, based on solid evidence, that they don’t even clean the rooms because the option of putting a “do not disturb” sign in the door slot was not even available. There wasn’t the distant din of vacuums and chattering that usually accompanies waking up in a hotel so there weren’t any cleaning ladies disturbing anyone that day. Again, just like the gas stations, the owners of the Montcalm monopolized on our desperation on a Friday of a festival in Winnipeg and didn’t care how grimy the experience was going to be for anyone. If you want it, you want it….if you don’t, you don’t. At least we got a key for our room. When the man standing in front of Brad at the lobby desk told the clerk, “My key to my room isn’t working,” the clerk simply said, “Oh, just tell me when you want to be let in and out of your room.” So, it’s going to be like this, is it? We are at your mercy.

I have had other equivalent experiences with creepy rooms. Once in Lake Linden, Michigan, I discovered that there wasn’t a phone in my room. When I inquired at the front desk, the eight thousand year old lady in the sailor suit and pig tails said to me, “Oh, we didn’t get into that”. You didn’t get into phones?!!! Where the fuck am I? Once on a family trip, I refused to sleep on my bed because it was clearly apparent that someone had been murdered on it, as could be seen by the splattering of blood across the sides of the mattress. At a hotel in Edmonton, I took a dip in a pool, and assumed I was blind when I opened my eyes underwater and couldn’t see the bottom of the pool. It was only 4 feet deep. Perhaps that is why I always steal the toilet paper from hotel rooms. I need to walk away from these experiences feeling like I haven’t been completely annihilated by the big guy and if it means being passive aggressive with toilet paper, that’s what I’ll do.There wasn't any extra toilet paper to steal in room zero at the Montcalm. We were lucky to even get any. 

Lesson learned. Lesson learned. Lesson learned. 1) Take your own towels with you anywhere you go. 2) Bring a garbage bag to sleep on so that anything that could potentially crawl on you will simply slide off. 3) Bring two bottles of wine not just one. Oh yeah, and 4) book ahead. That one’s pretty important, supposedly. 

Beating Wings

A rural yard sighed under the sharp heat of a mid-morning eastern sun. Berries held on to any moisture that still resided under their skin, waiting to be plucked. Rocks basked under the fiery glow, happy to shake off another cold, damp starry night. Daylilies welcomed the sunshine with an abrupt shot of yellow; violently greeting the skies with pure, primary colour. And a finch struggled, frantically entangled in a dried shrub that had escaped through the cracks of a weathered pallet that was abandoned along the side of the yard.  

Her little legs were trapped by a frayed piece of tarp that had let go after being beaten and abused by the elements for so long. This gnarled piece of blue string only traveled as far as this beautiful bird’s delicate legs before it decided to rest. This bird was probably being adventurous, looking under the nooks and crannies in that area. It’s dark and cool underneath that tarp; probably laden with an overabundance of bugs….a bird utopia. She perhaps didn’t even notice the ugliness that was wrapping around her body, she was so enthralled with the hunt, so self absorbed and oblivious to the dangers. Then she had her fill and it was time to share her findings with others, tell the world of her riches without actually sharing the specifics. She started on her way but was violently snapped back. She tried again, pushing her wings a bit harder now, to no avail. The blue string was weaved through the dried branches like an inexperienced child’s attempt at playing cat in the cradle. Panic set in. She could see underneath her that life was continuing to move. There goes a bug that I missed, she thought. Oh, how I would love to have that little bug in my mouth right now, juicy and delectable and all mine. Above her she could see that the skies moved freely, clouds flicking in the light breeze without a thought to her plight. Nobody cared about her quandary.  Her wings were moving as quickly as her heartbeat now, fervently.  Exhausted, she sat, resigning her will to the snare that embraced her. The sun was sitting heavy on her now and it wouldn’t be long before predators would come by, the scent of fear permeating the air. The first thing they would do would peck her eyes out, so she was blinded to the pain that await her. 

And as quickly as these dreadful thoughts inundated her mind she was flying. Her wings bruised from beating the dry, brittle branches, her heart palpitating with fear and confusion, she moved in swift undulations with the slight breeze of freedom. She perched in a nearby tree, the blue stringed reminder still dangling delicately from her leg, to safely observe and clarify in her mind the situation that she had somehow magically and narrowly escaped. But all she could see was a large, silhouetted figure quickly dragging a tarp into a garbage pile, a pallet being lifted, a weed being pulled, and life resuming without a second thought to the her predicament….