My sister Natalie and I were the only ones amongst us that had been to Las Vegas before. Calling it Las Vegas conjures up different images than the nickname ‘Vegas’ does. We showed our mom and sisters the Walt Disney Las Vegas as opposed to the CSI Vegas. The Las Vegas of Sammy Davis junior, Frank Sinatra and Dean Martin. Not the Vegas of the ‘Hangover’ movie. We mostly stayed above ground and marveled at the magnificent manmade wonders and replicas of significant architecture and monuments from around the world. I mean, where else can you travel and take in the Eiffel Tower, the Statue of Liberty, the Empire State Building, the pyramids of Egypt, the canals and gondoliers of Venice and the flower gardens of Japan all in one stop?

And the Grand Canyon. Let’s not forget the Grand Canyon made by the creator of the universe. Nothing fake about that.

We enjoyed culinary delicacies from some of the best restaurants and chefs thanks to Natalie who entertains clients in Las Vegas frequently. We shopped at the coolest (I’m talking temperature) and most upscale shopping venues. Then there was the decadence of staying at a resort hotel as we gathered around the pool area each day for 3-4 hours. This is where memories were made.

Flowers out of a vending machine? Only in Vegas. 24 hour Starbucks? Only in Vegas. $18USD pool drinks? Only in Vegas. 37 degrees on May 5? Only in Vegas. Water dancing 460 feet in the air to music? Only in Vegas.

But what was, in actuality, more amazing than these was the fact that all four of Ruth’s daughters (and one granddaughter) converged upon this marvel of man to celebrate and honour a special woman. Our mother. One from New Zealand, two from Toronto and three from Calgary. I’m convinced that this was a once in a lifetime event. Each daughter/sister set aside their daily routine and responsibilities and wholeheartedly jumped at the opportunity to honour mom this way on her 85th birthday. Sacrifices of time and finance became secondary to the common goal. Little did we know that in meeting together in Las Vegas not only would we bless our mother but we would renew the sisterhood. (Not of the travelling pants because there is absolutely no way one pair of pants would have fit each of us). But rather, we had an opportunity to experience each other as we are now. We are different women than the girls we knew as we were growing up in our parents home. Life’s experiences have molded and shaped us in ways we could never have predicted and it was a joy to connect with the glamourous, sophisticated and resilient women my sisters have evolved into.

Viva the Sisterhood.

Another sweltering day, another Vegas adventure. Starbucks, sizzle by the pool from 10:00 to 2:00, more Starbucks, chats in the pool, taking turns cooling off so someone could act as security guard for our stuff. We had to take gold bricks down to the pool to purchase drinks with. After we’d had enough sun for the day we all landed in on Zara at the Fashion show mall. Zara didn’t know what hit them as all six of us tried on most of the items in the store. Some of us even bought things and exchanged them before we left the store. Then off to Charming Charlie’s.

The plan was to have supper at Gordon Ramsey’s ‘burger’ restaurant with all the flames between the windows (which we did). So we piled into two cabs and set out towards Planet Hollywood. Naturally we ordered burgers AND truffle parmesan French fries. I’m wrecked for all other French fries and that’s got to be the most melty in your mouth hamburger I’ve ever had. We followed this up with a trip to the Chandelier bar across the street. After we’d had our fill of crystals and exotic drinks we moved the party over to the fountains of Bellagio for our final enjoyment.

Natalie and Melanie took mom back to the hotel in a cab and Lexie, Jacqui and I decided to walk back. True to form,  Jacqui had us in stitches in no time. We passed a tall blond in stilettos and a VERY short dress (she had to keep one hand on her hem and the other hanging onto to her guy for dear life) and  Jacqui says (to us really) ‘hey girlie, I hate to tell you this buts that’s not a dress, it’s a shirt’ and jacqui goes even further and says ‘ you should watch these girls when they drop a $100 bill, their skirt is too short and tight  to bend over so they say ‘nevermind  about it- I’ll get another one somewhere.’ We were wondering why the guys these girls were clinging to,  got to wear runners, jeans and a tshirt while the girls had to wear the highest heals, the shortest skirts, the tightest clothes and the lowest necklines. Somehow it didn’t seem fair. Did I mention the cobblestone sidewalks?

While we were on the topic of uncomfortable clothes,  Jacqui started telling us about the last marathon she and her son, A.J., ran in. There was a gal in front of them with a cellphone in her skort pocket and the cellphone was so heavy it weighed her skort down enough to expose her assets and she had to keep doing this little hop jump move to pull her skort back up…. Jacqui was demo-ing this as we walked down Las Vegas Blvd. I was laughing so hard I had to sheild my eyes with my newly purchased Hell’s Kitchen cookbook or I’d have had an embarrassing accident. I’m sure people were wondering what we were smoking and where could they get some. Then she told us about the lady that came in second in the marathon. Apparently she was so desperate to win (big monetary prizes) that she could not interrupt her run to go to the lavatory and was covered from head to toe with her own …. well, as A.J. put it, she really did come in No. 2. By this time I was almost rolling on the ground….

Laughing is so good for the soul and Jacqui has always been able to make us laugh til we cry or wet ourselves or both. It was well after midnight and the strip was still busy and well populated but no one paid any attention to our antics and cavorting. I felt 18 again. It was invigorating. Thanks for the memories Jacqui.

What happens in Vegas stays in Vegas. Not anymore. Because this happened and I’m going to tell you about it. Mom, two of my sisters and a old dear family friend joined us on this trip and they all headed out for the Grand Canyon this morning by way of the Hoover Dam. Surprisingly there were a few of us that chose to stay in the city so we could melt faster than a crayon by the hotel pool in the 31 degree heat.

Anyhow. Lexie and I had planned to avail ourselves of the fitness facilities at Treasure Island but as we stretched and yawned our way out of bed Lexie had a brain wave and suggested we order room service instead of working out. I had my credit card out in 3 seconds flat. Lexie proceeded to order a stack of pancakes with sides for her and eggs benedict for moi. I thought I’d shower while we were waiting. It was so decadent as we sat on the bed and ate our fill of breakfast food prepared by someone else as we watched morning TV (King of Queens and Everybody loves Raymond – did you know they used to be on the same show?). I call my other sister,  that also passed on the Grand Canyon, to ask her to join us but… no answer. We don’t hear from her for a bit so I eat my last Benedict reasoning that by the time I hear from her it will be too cold for either of us to eat. Naturally, after I swallowed the last bite I hear a knock on the door. It’s Natalie and clearly she is famished as she eats Lexie’s last pancake, sausage and egg. Lexie decides to go out and take in one of the attractions she had planned on … taking in. Immediately after she left Natalie and I decide to move the room service cart into the hallway for pick up. We are having difficulty getting it through the door and Natalie realizes we need to fold down the one side so she is fumbling under the table cloth for the knob, she finally finds it and the table end folds and accelerates the pace of the cart through the door so we got momentarily distracted and excited and I let the room door shut. As I heard the click I realize I’m standing in the hallway wearing my flimsy nightshirt, barefooted and my key card, phone and ID are safely inside the room. I tried to remember how many movies I’d seen with this similar dilemma. I guess writers don’t really just make this stuff up. Natalie texts Lexie to come back but it could be a couple of hours before she sees the text since she is probably making her way through Madame Tussauds wax museum by now.

Natalie being the calm wise younger sister takes me back to her room and phones the front desk, explains the situation and asks what they can do. We already know we can’t get another key card without ID. They are sending up security.

Thankfully Natalie had a room as well or I would have had no choice but to walk down to the front desk in my jammie’s and barefeet and wait in line while being mocked and judged by other guests as they assumed I’d been on an all night bender or lost my clothes and room at the craps table. I had absolutely no proof I was guest at this hotel.

It’s 10:30 at night and the city is teaming with people and smells and sounds unlike any thing we are used to. It’s a world foreign to us. Rather like being in a jungle totally unaware of what danger might befall us. The place is lit up like a Christmas tree. Actually I’ve not seen any Christmas tree that could rival this. No wonder they need the Hoover dam close by. I don’t think there is a city in the world that uses this much electricity.

We struggle our way down to the Bellagio to show mother the fountains. Men of all ages are craning their necks doing double takes as Lexie walks by. I’m not letting that girl out of my sight. The fountains begin to “One Singular Sensation” , how appropriate and just as magical as I remember. Across the street the Eiffel Tower. Other than the scent of weed wafting over to us, it’s truly amazing. My eyes are starting to burn from the smell. We move on.

Clearly we brought the wrong clothes . Our clothes fit, theyre comfortable and cover our bodies. What were we thinking? And the heels on the cobblestone sidewalks, well let’s just say those young girls have more courage and stamina than I ever will. Maybe a little less wisdom.

And look at me still up staring out at the new Trump tower outside our hotel window at 2 am. There’s a Saks 5th avenue and a Macy’s and a Neimann Marcus AND a Nordstroms as well. Note to self: go there tomorrow and take photos of beautiful stuff I want but can’t afford.

Time for sleep. We have a big day laying around the pool tomorrow. Did I mention the 24 hour Starbucks at our hotel? God is definitely looking down on me compassion this week.

It was four Mondays ago that they phased out my job and sent me away. Maybe I made work a little too much like home and that’s why I miss it so much. I’ve been living a surreal existence since then, kind of like ‘who am I and whose life am I living anyway?

I’m not bitter or resentful about it, especially if I am confident that God is working out His plan in my life but it still leaves a huge hole that I’m wondering how to fill. Right, I was going to let God fill that hole this time. But that doesn’t mean I haven’t come up with all kinds of suggestions for Him… you know, in case He needs help. He does have an awful lot to do.

It’s like I cannot stop my mind from coming up with solutions and possibilities. It’s not as easy as those yogi’s suggest to empty out a busy mind.

It’s snowing this morning. BTW it’s April 24 for those not reading this in real time. The kind of morning conducive to sitting around by the fire feeling sorry for yourself. Just downed a few pieces of lovely comforting fruit toast wearing my plaid flannel dressing gown. It’s very hard to imagine that next Monday morning I will be sitting around a pool in Las Vegas in 31 degree weather. One usually doesn’t have to escape in May to find warmer weather, but I digress…. where was I? Oh yes. In the middle of felling sorry for myself.

What have I been doing for four weeks? Seriously, what have I done that matters? I didn’t realize I was supposed to be doing stuff that matters. Well friends have been taking me out for lunches and dinners and bringing me flowers (like someone died), I really DO love the flowers. I’ve redecorated the house and tested all the recipes in my French cookbooks (macarons, croissants, quiche, croque Madame and Monsieur, French toast, French press coffee, French fries), my son came home for a bit so I’ve been making pizza and brownies (a lot). (And eating all this BTW) I’ve been reading and writing constantly. If I don’t actually workout before 11:00 in the morning then I don’t workout at all. I’ll let you surmize how often I’ve worked out. So with all the eating and not working out you can imagine the condition I am in. I’ve engaged in a lot of shopping therapy. Buying stuff then taking it back when I remember I need to conserve money as I’m unemployed. So this takes up quite a bit of time. I’ve set up my painting studio again but as of yet, unused. I’ve pulled out my plethora of fabrics and patterns with the intention of sewing again. But instead I sit by the fire or at Starbucks in a trance sipping venti peach green tea lemonade (light ice) like it was life giving water.

I’ve moved into that reality where I now refer to everything as BC or AD. This is that kind of event. BC = working and AD = not working. Oh I’m working just not getting paid for it. Well actually they were kind enough to pay me for a few months so I AM getting paid to do what I am doing. Wait a minute. You mean I’m getting paid to shop, eat, not workout and sit by the fire? This actually is a pretty sweet deal. This is not the end of an era for me to wistfully look back on but rather an opportunity to seek what the future holds. But one thing I do: forgetting what lies behind and straining forward to what lies ahead, I press on toward the goal for the prize of the upward call of God in Christ Jesus.

Time to snap out of it! Self pity 101 complete. And passed with flying colors I might add. I have a life to live! I have a purpose. I have a hope and this hope doesn’t disappoint.

With a little extra time on my hands I thought this might be a perfect time to reflect on the activities that end up being my days and the thoughts or perceptions that end up being my self talk. Why would I do this? That’s a very good question since I realize now that it’s not a whole lot of fun. Rather like dragging your fingers across a chalkboard. Please stop! I guess I was curious to understand what exactly was driving my thoughts and actions because very often I don’t like those thoughts and very often I don’t know why I do certain things and I’m not pleased with my actions. I want to sit myself down and give myself a lecture and a shaking -simultaneously.

It occurs to me that much of what I do is image control. Being very careful what exactly it is that I’m projecting to the rest of the world. For example, I really detest having to blow dry my hair straight. It is a task that really is not fun and takes up far too much time. So why do I do it? Why don’t I just let my unruly curly hair do whatever it wants to so I can do the same? Well because it doesn’t look professional (on me) and it doesn’t really scream classic and sleek so I blow dry, through hot flashes and arm cramps and sleep deprivation. All in the name of image.

I have very specific laws for dressing myself. Always always have butt coverage. No belts or tuck ins because of short waist. No cleavage-it reeks of desperation. If wearing loose and flowy on top then it’s skinny on the bottom and visa versa. Usually some degree of heels-I need the height to offset my linebacker shoulders. I’m well aware of the fact that I’m built for endurance not agility, in other words, an amazon woman (I should be swinging from trees). So I try to work with that. My new thing is long anything, long sweaters, long vests, long shirts – it’s makes me feel more in control and I love that Darth Vader swish and shadow. If this isn’t working the way I think it is please don’t tell me as ignorance is bliss. Bangs take 10 years off, glasses hide wrinkles. Hair pulled back makes me look older (so I usually don’t) if I’m carrying extra weight, which I am most of the time. That’s another battle. All this to leave a good lasting impression without actually standing out. It’s very intentional. Even the way I shop for clothes is specific… just in case you thought I just throw on anything. I wish I was one of those women that could just throw on a tshirt and jeans and toss my hair in the morning and look like Ralph Lauren commercial but I’m not. I do have to be intentional if I want to give off the (false) image of having it all together. I sure hope you didn’t fall for that one because much of the time I’m coming unglued.

My word. What I say. I want my yes to mean yes and my no to mean no. This takes intention. Sometimes I goof up but this is what I’m shooting for. I want to be remembered and known for reliability, responsibility, kindness, generosity, thoughtfulness, encouragement, vulnerability, humility and transparency. Projecting this image involves quite a bit of self sacrifice which I usually do willingly because it’s worth it. But other times I forget and well…these virtues end up not being what I embody. Forgetting is really just getting caught up in self.

Let’s face it, like anybody and everybody I want to be liked and accepted and I’m not adverse to adoration and praise either. That’s a weakness. An insecurity. If someone tells me that so and so Is great at this and that, I automatically assume that this infers that i am not. Which is ridiculous because first of all, its not all about me. I wish it were sometimes but its just not! I’m training myself to be more complimentary and encouraging with genuineness. It’s at waste of time if it’s not sincere. I think that’s how to get over this insecurity.

I am painfully aware that I am a chronic oversharer. I’m not sure if I am trying to fill in the awkward silences or if I am just so excited about my own experiences (revelations and insights) or if I’m just trying to hide all the insecurities inside by distracting you with drivel. Sorry about that.

My home is also an extension of this image I’m trying to project. Not so much because I want to impress but mostly because I love to be surrounded by beautiful things and my mind is always decorating and redecorating and imagining and creating. J’adore entertaining more than I actually do. But my home is an extension of myself and the image I want to project is hospitality and acceptance. Blessing even.

So if I get up early and workout – that is for my health but there is ALWAYS at least a small part of me that wants to lose weight so I don’t come across as a lazy slacker who doesn’t care. That is image control. The way I dress for work…I like to look nice but I also want you to think I look nice. That is image control. I Instagram my hobbies, accomplishments, my fashion, my special events, my family while we are making memories. If that isn’t image control then nothing is. Why do I want to share these activities with my world? Well because it’s what’s done and it’s fun. But I do use the best filter and the best angle and practice a few shots to get the perfect picture. This is called staging. Instragram image can also be referred to as branding AND that’s image control.

Then I remember that I am made in Gods image. He’s already designed my image. He knit me together in my mothers womb. He knew exactly how I would turn out because that is how He fashioned me. Who am I to say He made a mistake or didn’t do a good job on me??? He knew I would be broad shouldered, big handed, short waisted and short sighted, always struggling with my weight to meet the worlds standards, wreckless curly hair, thick legged, foot problems due to length of toes….and those are just my perceived physical flaws. If I’m not wealthy then God has a purpose for me in that. If I’m not an academic achiever then God has a purpose for that. If I’m not spontaneously witty then that’s not what God wants for me either. If I’m not a fitness guru then that’s not my purpose either. If im not a concert pianist then that’s not my forte either.  I’m old enough to have gone through many transformations in my life. I’ve felt the need to reinvent myself a couple of times. It’s hard work to be sure.

But I’m seriously endeavouring to let God do the changing, the transforming and the reinventing these days. I want to project the image of God and not waste my time with image control. I want to be who He wants me to be. And I want to be content being that very specific and special person. I want to get my priorities in line and be clothed with strength and dignity. When I get dressed I want to put on the new self -Col 3:10 (which is being renewed in knowledge in the image of its Creator). I want to put on the Lord Jesus Christ -Romans 13:14 (and make no provision for the flesh, to gratify its desires), and I want to put on the full armour of God – Ephesians 6:13 (and stand).

There are so many things the world approves of and disapproves of and if I’m not conforming to the world then those standards shouldn’t even be on my radar. James says “religion that God sees as pure and faultless…. is to not let yourself be polluted by the world”.

This doesn’t mean I can’t have any style or fashion sense or my home should be a hovel or I should just let myself go physically or not enjoy the creativity and blessings God has given me for my enjoyment. But I need to hold these things loosely and grip contentment and gratefulness for dear life instead. Goal: to project the image of Christ.