tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4127675734080374422024-03-13T17:27:45.023-03:00Healing My HeartSuzie Ridlerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08603343663483772145noreply@blogger.comBlogger1006125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-412767573408037442.post-37539372122480520012022-01-17T19:54:00.009-04:002022-01-17T20:11:30.480-04:00Badassté You Spiritual Badasses<div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://www.etsy.com/shop/SacredSuzie/edit?ref=edit_trust_header" style="display: block; padding: 1em 0px; text-align: center;"><img alt="" border="0" data-original-height="1080" data-original-width="1080" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhVZwaCAIZ7l5MScyD8C5Xmf7pD7V9tnEni_SzpWqJLRdRxfupNmkha2Ua8xrHdIQizDgvEovqWrB9kdPoekQJGtOmMlQ3hjcXWhHTuDwt5Et_wDW7r21nNiWqI9W59mnu1omoA2QLov_Fqe27V8Q-yLgI3-l-9XsQ8544CgrxJiPSjmZ_OXeXvZS8UtQ=s600" width="600" /></a></div>
<p>I created Badassté as "Namasté" for you spiritual badasses out there. You may look sweet and innocent and everyone thinks you are harmless but I know better. </p><p>Most of the time we come across as all love and light but when it comes down to it we follow a calling that can take us down a dark and lonely road. Where we make tough decisions. Dig deep and keep going. Choosing a spiritual path and doing the work, exorcising our shadows... This makes us the biggest badasses of all.</p>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://www.etsy.com/shop/SacredSuzie/edit?ref=edit_trust_header" style="display: block; padding: 1em 0px; text-align: center;"><img alt="" border="0" data-original-height="3155" data-original-width="2366" height="600" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjZUNEe98Ii18GdP3higOkeEVd5rerr4zVDBDNiFonueYq50JMlrFc4anj5Pf9OIMBbxlREBx4L0kUyyW46TKzIVA3OAEzGqj0yaUeJR7lF-We9A0_jncoYx5zcRqNpXj7pbfnjd62jq0MGADxAIlAllu3NHy1-fqAVsvxD1z9Ua9wky44MqsjXt6anZw=s600" /></a></div>It is one of the reasons why I created <a href="https://www.etsy.com/shop/SacredSuzie">Wear Your Altar</a>. How very badass to wear our spirituality in public. Sometimes it is obvious, sometimes... Not. But WE know. <div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhNqQSCpjHao4aGF77nYcHxg96D3XIpdOPsahvCePcBJ1OfESAUEMokjeRUVFFMdEbwGdCLO8J3Cat0hoG9QDIYM8n8nJbN7Sk67dIZ16Ref2pfRPvUgEQ9eIHRE-j9smSIEvalM25NItvwA7kOKDtyMug7gVd43T1kI3VMTS3rDnGeIxjsty6hZcND7g=s4032" style="display: block; padding: 1em 0px; text-align: center;"><img alt="" border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="600" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhNqQSCpjHao4aGF77nYcHxg96D3XIpdOPsahvCePcBJ1OfESAUEMokjeRUVFFMdEbwGdCLO8J3Cat0hoG9QDIYM8n8nJbN7Sk67dIZ16Ref2pfRPvUgEQ9eIHRE-j9smSIEvalM25NItvwA7kOKDtyMug7gVd43T1kI3VMTS3rDnGeIxjsty6hZcND7g=s600" /></a></div>
<div>I want you to know that I see you. I know you are super tough for getting this far. That it took grit, fortitude and probably some tears but that just makes you all the more amazing.</div></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjVcbXXbhSkK_5NthpYti04QxF-m75BUeCAoSH7lSNjF-VaeXHo1u_w5uPHPUEVnmCuG7hiTL1GNBkbHLv2Dx2sNMvw5tz0YBfPuga85KmUfqohk8R4TaDuZC3W-CJMiIItyJJ71HNy_SNJ78YfmSFBXE3yODpBnRgxiladWQXM1q0PlvOq--E1mkQpiQ=s3024" style="display: block; padding: 1em 0px; text-align: center;"><img alt="" border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="3024" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjVcbXXbhSkK_5NthpYti04QxF-m75BUeCAoSH7lSNjF-VaeXHo1u_w5uPHPUEVnmCuG7hiTL1GNBkbHLv2Dx2sNMvw5tz0YBfPuga85KmUfqohk8R4TaDuZC3W-CJMiIItyJJ71HNy_SNJ78YfmSFBXE3yODpBnRgxiladWQXM1q0PlvOq--E1mkQpiQ=s600" width="600" /></a></div><div>Every day I pick up my pliers I acknowledge the badass in myself. Whatever it is you are called to do or believe or which path you choose to walk, I want you to know I recognize your strength. I know it is so hard. That to give up would be so easy but you haven't. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEivVQuqznBMp1No3p5rW5GFzNv0dCa0fDPpQQpSWL5E9VNZ8BoIJimYWarRMIpnSFJSWDw2zCPNi6MK341CtomhtNVeKoq_zNHibNpyNTC_Sb_96Dtz6lKseEiXQsLvVZ5icX2V9y5xIIAjeC0rNoHq0nggVZhHEs3m2jjAZM3_IFIEtzoguzR7iodz-A=s4032" style="display: block; padding: 1em 0px; text-align: center;"><img alt="" border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="600" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEivVQuqznBMp1No3p5rW5GFzNv0dCa0fDPpQQpSWL5E9VNZ8BoIJimYWarRMIpnSFJSWDw2zCPNi6MK341CtomhtNVeKoq_zNHibNpyNTC_Sb_96Dtz6lKseEiXQsLvVZ5icX2V9y5xIIAjeC0rNoHq0nggVZhHEs3m2jjAZM3_IFIEtzoguzR7iodz-A=s600" /></a></div><div><div>It is our choice to not give in to the dark and give up. Our path is one of finding a way through the void to reach meaning and purpose. We face our shadow selves to find our light. </div></div><div><br /></div><div>Badassté my fellow spirit warriors. </div>Suzie Ridlerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08603343663483772145noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-412767573408037442.post-8583591908701341882021-09-19T19:29:00.002-03:002021-09-19T19:29:24.654-03:00Sharing My Broken Heart Syndrome Story<p> </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgljKlq-Ck5Y5XXqEwLjjTaF1vfnHVJOUW2Divmylr5jHwYHom5piy37rpD_a2hMd2UxE5LQvSeQqaNp-izYbkvDLQyMpHSJCq9TPQ4p9XMxphwCdpGP4olpxqQMd5-nHIaBMDNJFAc9G8r/s1281/CB818481-8B87-45A4-99EE-0590A863E445.PNG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="720" data-original-width="1281" height="347" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgljKlq-Ck5Y5XXqEwLjjTaF1vfnHVJOUW2Divmylr5jHwYHom5piy37rpD_a2hMd2UxE5LQvSeQqaNp-izYbkvDLQyMpHSJCq9TPQ4p9XMxphwCdpGP4olpxqQMd5-nHIaBMDNJFAc9G8r/w618-h347/CB818481-8B87-45A4-99EE-0590A863E445.PNG" width="618" /></a></div><br /><p></p>
<p>
I feel like I lost a limb. Maybe a bit of my soul. Walking away from my life as <a href="http://www.suziethefoodie.com/farewell-foodies/">Suzie The Foodie</a> was brutal. Especially after I already broke my heart once this year. It is clear that to protect and strengthen my heart I must find another path. What a scary thing to do at this time. But fear, that is what the last 18 months has been about as we continue to get through the pandemic. </p><p>The good news is, I have a plan. In order to make sense of all of what has happened, I am going to write a book. Not only that, I want to write here about what it is like to be a survivor of stress-induced cardiomyopathy/Takotsubo cardiomyopathy and also how to prevent it. So few people write and share their experiences and I understand why. After going through something like that, it changes you. It changes your life and it is fucking terrifying. Who the hell would want to put their heart at risk even thinking about it again let alone write about it?</p><p>I guess that just leaves me. Because I am kind of crazy like that. And because I do not want anyone else to go through it and for those who have I want you to know, you are not alone. I am with you.</p><p>Stay tuned. It was one hell of a ride. </p><p><br /></p>Suzie Ridlerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08603343663483772145noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-412767573408037442.post-89556990331697230712021-03-21T22:18:00.003-03:002021-03-22T13:30:18.758-03:00Rest Peacefully Love<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEilK1-hp3ElA0AEHd84eeRibGn0yFYC3gYuUB9NRZysbUPVxEf8fjW80GJP3fMTyX1qSJWgUivn-5w56V-xqX70wkA6ZWoxvSL8ed0KLMg_8jcVnBauXH4APx-yYqkpynHiKD2UdO0uuPsH/s1806/1967%252520Robbie%252520%25286%2529.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1806" data-original-width="1596" height="526" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEilK1-hp3ElA0AEHd84eeRibGn0yFYC3gYuUB9NRZysbUPVxEf8fjW80GJP3fMTyX1qSJWgUivn-5w56V-xqX70wkA6ZWoxvSL8ed0KLMg_8jcVnBauXH4APx-yYqkpynHiKD2UdO0uuPsH/w465-h526/1967%252520Robbie%252520%25286%2529.JPG" width="465" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Here is what I know. My brother Robbie was born on July 13 and recently I found out he died on December 19 when he was just six years old. He was buried on December 21 and I did not attend the funeral. I can not go into any other details because they include not just me and for my family's privacy sake.</div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgXStC0QaG52VDd2BsmXwAH-fLH65z7VVkdafc-O9Ri9w3X4nJL2qiXCcGY36GuyCy9sTG_J0SrCGAiRoTO7_vjvuRpYMCjFBd0nOJ53gJNjWnChSs5I8cnKs0b6NX50iW8WLM14u8Vv2AC/s2048/1967%25252010%252520Robbie%252520Carriage.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1421" height="598" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgXStC0QaG52VDd2BsmXwAH-fLH65z7VVkdafc-O9Ri9w3X4nJL2qiXCcGY36GuyCy9sTG_J0SrCGAiRoTO7_vjvuRpYMCjFBd0nOJ53gJNjWnChSs5I8cnKs0b6NX50iW8WLM14u8Vv2AC/w415-h598/1967%25252010%252520Robbie%252520Carriage.JPG" width="415" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">I do remember being at the hospital when they gave him what was called an "X-ray" which was probably radiation treatment and hearing the doctor say, "There is nothing more we can do." </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgfaD3yOkWMW8sXzvzw4nOmfjijJtR27Js8cmmBE4rEFDtlNvzNbxIGA8R87V1C-h2bisxWDc33BjVgGia3nMnHFKOk0-4cloRSqlZ6ZGvuxxKDFUQlmzPTxQkClgLw9_JiRXCmBmY9Tu9O/s1365/unknown.png" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="899" data-original-width="1365" height="326" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgfaD3yOkWMW8sXzvzw4nOmfjijJtR27Js8cmmBE4rEFDtlNvzNbxIGA8R87V1C-h2bisxWDc33BjVgGia3nMnHFKOk0-4cloRSqlZ6ZGvuxxKDFUQlmzPTxQkClgLw9_JiRXCmBmY9Tu9O/w494-h326/unknown.png" width="494" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">He had an inoperable brain tumour and this treatment gave him an additional six months to live. </div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiP27rz4uF2_Qt8Tf1S00Cc32D2wQMeFG2UMwCNyKUEuam6eO6sQ4Emq-8Mk2MH3xHoEAkt2XTHRGaTVqxDu-TpVyXRSPiNXcIAyDjs1ZY4l19u31Nk97AXaC76-ah0zAeGzq7JK1qavJv5/s2014/grave.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1794" data-original-width="2014" height="454" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiP27rz4uF2_Qt8Tf1S00Cc32D2wQMeFG2UMwCNyKUEuam6eO6sQ4Emq-8Mk2MH3xHoEAkt2XTHRGaTVqxDu-TpVyXRSPiNXcIAyDjs1ZY4l19u31Nk97AXaC76-ah0zAeGzq7JK1qavJv5/w510-h454/grave.jpg" width="510" /></a></div><br />I never even got a chance to go to his gravesite until we were visiting Montreal when I was around 17. I wanted so desperately to go when I was a kid but I was not fast enough getting ready (I tried so hard) and then they were gone. <div><br /></div><div>When I finally got to visit as a teenager I brought some rosemary I had grown from seed and added it to the flowers and told him, I would never forget him. </div><div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjEvjCXJzBbfcmyHZB7_qLatulmoI_roYdwP4FEljYN4CgXiGJrJfL_DO8TMS49wcM-5XJPRdywuml1qDrUxpNDq8yfg7jpHsT86qAdZbTua7_0xznr8RfJGLWkh1emmCry7NYVega8sGBe/s2048/unnamed.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1553" data-original-width="2048" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjEvjCXJzBbfcmyHZB7_qLatulmoI_roYdwP4FEljYN4CgXiGJrJfL_DO8TMS49wcM-5XJPRdywuml1qDrUxpNDq8yfg7jpHsT86qAdZbTua7_0xznr8RfJGLWkh1emmCry7NYVega8sGBe/w527-h400/unnamed.jpg" width="527" /></a></div><br /><p>He is buried in the children's section Garden of Babyland in a Montreal cemetery. Even though we all called him Robbie his name officially was Robert Scott Ridler. He was a brave little boy who cared more for his family than himself. I carry the sadness of his loss every day. But it is time for me to say good-bye Robbie. Such a bright boy who did not last long in this world but is forever in my heart. </p><p>Your short little story is now online and I will always be your sister but I have to stop now. I have to let your story go. I have re-remembered you all my life so you would not disappear but it is time for me to not carry this weight alone anymore. I release it to the world so that you can be free and my heart can heal. </p><p>Forever your little sister</p><p>Suzie</p></div>Suzie Ridlerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08603343663483772145noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-412767573408037442.post-61537757149295190972021-02-21T16:42:00.003-04:002021-02-21T16:45:44.178-04:00My Inner Child Walks Softly But Carries A Big Gun<p></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2_vj69l0QU0P3Kr-UsEInoD4X9wHFgSdZ_NL3nDfaj7NMyR-GfxCKHb46sLk85Eij2rFGeqOlgbjKO-fMoArY0PgAgfl3ZqK92Qn0traN0tEJQMMMhyphenhyphenb0nV2KZNx0IB3ZVfptJeutZwad/s2048/1967%25252012%252520Robbie%252520%25286%2529.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1386" data-original-width="2048" height="377" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2_vj69l0QU0P3Kr-UsEInoD4X9wHFgSdZ_NL3nDfaj7NMyR-GfxCKHb46sLk85Eij2rFGeqOlgbjKO-fMoArY0PgAgfl3ZqK92Qn0traN0tEJQMMMhyphenhyphenb0nV2KZNx0IB3ZVfptJeutZwad/w555-h377/1967%25252012%252520Robbie%252520%25286%2529.JPG" width="555" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: x-small;"><i>Robbie, all photos from the past courtesy Inta Ridler</i></span></td></tr></tbody></table><br />I found out today that my brother Robbie's birthday was July 13. My whole life, I did not know when my older brother was born. This is how deeply my family did not speak of him. Losing him hurt too much so he turned into a ghost that in a lot of ways, never really had a chance to live. <p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEitfjlLiLyqIJZfb2IVOBqKiMj_Q2DI9NGL_PxbZrYb4dT7ZTwNfZcE9gOcvu5BfhwABrZpAZtPPkTgqt78lNXA0y2CXvf-oHJ7Wvg_F6xRsHIuAoKw7OEj974wDZn72GP9DhqadqtjAAXT/s2048/1972+Halloween+Tiger+Robbie+%25282%2529.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1389" data-original-width="2048" height="344" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEitfjlLiLyqIJZfb2IVOBqKiMj_Q2DI9NGL_PxbZrYb4dT7ZTwNfZcE9gOcvu5BfhwABrZpAZtPPkTgqt78lNXA0y2CXvf-oHJ7Wvg_F6xRsHIuAoKw7OEj974wDZn72GP9DhqadqtjAAXT/w508-h344/1972+Halloween+Tiger+Robbie+%25282%2529.jpg" width="508" /></a></div><p>I do remember so very clearly his love of his tiger costume for Halloween! In fact I think he even had a tiger sleeping bag with a tiger's head for a pillow attached. I think he wore that tiger costume all the time.</p>
<a data-flickr-embed="true" href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/suzieridler/8163886176/in/album-72157631860802346/" title="Hexed After"><img alt="Hexed After" height="431" src="https://live.staticflickr.com/8490/8163886176_558857a85f_z.jpg" width="265" /></a><script async="" charset="utf-8" src="//embedr.flickr.com/assets/client-code.js"></script> <div><br /></div><div>I think it is where my love of wearing costumes and cosplay comes from. </div><div><br /></div><div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a data-flickr-embed="true" href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/suzieridler/8161395172/in/album-72157631860802346/" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" title="Hal-Con 2012 Highlights"><img alt="Hal-Con 2012 Highlights" height="427" src="https://live.staticflickr.com/8490/8161395172_820d608005_z.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: x-small;"><i>Not me BTW, LOL, but amazing costumes</i></span></td></tr></tbody></table></div><div><br /></div><div>I remember the first time I went to <a href="https://hal-con.com">Hal-Con</a> I had the oddest feeling that I had come home. That these were my people. That I had found my tribe, geeks and enthusiasts like me.</div><div><br /></div><div>One of the treasures my dad had of Robbie's for a very long time on his bookcase was a Godzilla that had a glow-in-the-dark white head. I would sit in my dad's big easy chair and look at it all the time. Even though the original black and white King Kong movie traumatized me as a kid (my biggest fear is still being eaten alive and Jaws did not help that phobia at all), Godzilla always made me smile. I never cared how bad the movie was, I would always watch any of the Godzilla movies that came out. </div><div><br /></div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_vrAh9JgG6MTUgUDFoqwVMebokDbHHK9MFGpmb_Y4nQ6j9_bfL99vvXnHoxK7snwb6cBQo-FOWQDF3oZnuyLzLMqS2BuUyw6S579VZOqXVB5MTeuoL20ugNKce39uVdIv9U969QvMN6zN/s991/robbie%2526suzie.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="991" data-original-width="463" height="672" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_vrAh9JgG6MTUgUDFoqwVMebokDbHHK9MFGpmb_Y4nQ6j9_bfL99vvXnHoxK7snwb6cBQo-FOWQDF3oZnuyLzLMqS2BuUyw6S579VZOqXVB5MTeuoL20ugNKce39uVdIv9U969QvMN6zN/w315-h672/robbie%2526suzie.jpg" width="315" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: x-small;">Robbie and me with my infamous "Strawberry Milk in a Bottle"</span></i></td></tr></tbody></table><br /><div>See that cowboy holster he had? That's where my fascination of guns began. It was a silver gun. In fact I think he had two. I had no interest in being a cowboy, they honestly seemed like total assholes to me, but the gun? The gun was powerful and as a girl I knew I would never be given one as a gift, the way Robbie was given one as a boy. (Let's leave the ethics of kids with gun toys aside, this was a different time period than now and as an adult I recognized totally unacceptable today.)</div><div><br /></div><div>I remember being at the commuter train station at the restaurant waiting for dad to get home from work and there was a police officer at the bar drinking a coffee. I saw his gun on his hip in the holster. It looked monstrous in comparison to Robbie's, like it weighed a thousand pounds. I remember my eyes being huge like saucers and he kind of laughed at me because of my dramatic response. From that day, police offers were like real life superheroes to me. I could see the power they had responsibility over. It was larger than life and they actually fought for real and put their lives on the line. It changed me forever. It was not fiction, it was real.</div><div><br /></div><div>It never seemed fair to me that boys got to play with guns and girls got dolls (I NEVER played with dolls). Robbie got all the cool stuff and dressed up and have fun and girls were supposed to be pretty and quiet and all that bullshit. I actually had pretty open-minded parents but they have both admitted to me much later in life (completely separately) that they never understood me. </div><div><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiLITKzWFlVoulcMaOO-xf3qXUi-8dPqlHVpwJNz9fJOKr_OdRmC2H7tqhncymIeMgIfkZTQzMVSIXjp3gxYyTxKLT-uBosoU0lhBigVVuU-YyG8wXUMi8Nhs3QBqsqs4coNNQCv6aExKp0/s1343/unknown.png" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="898" data-original-width="1343" height="326" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiLITKzWFlVoulcMaOO-xf3qXUi-8dPqlHVpwJNz9fJOKr_OdRmC2H7tqhncymIeMgIfkZTQzMVSIXjp3gxYyTxKLT-uBosoU0lhBigVVuU-YyG8wXUMi8Nhs3QBqsqs4coNNQCv6aExKp0/w487-h326/unknown.png" width="487" /></a></div><br /><div>Was it because I was a girl like her brother? I wanted to go on adventures and I was not afraid of playing in the leaves or the dirt. That I wanted to fight crime with a gun too? The truth is I was a tomboy who did not give a crap about wearing dresses and having a Barbie doll. I wanted to be outside in nature and getting as lost in that world as I could. Take on bad guys at the same time? All the better.</div><div><br /></div><div>I did actually investigate becoming a police officer later in life. Actually I wanted to be a human rights officer but they only hired retired cops so I thought, OK, I will become a cop! I felt at the time I could train and get physically stronger but when I did the memory testing... I knew that it would be an impossibility. I may have been able to make my body stronger at the time but the memory requirement was something I knew I could never overcome. So? I became an English and Creative Writing student instead. Yes, life is weird.</div><div><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiRkELYQ5mOuJqB6nnhffEKOgdk24oJpVS4lQ5-g6TICelr39n9n_GSsbi1Ny6AwTZTncdfldHw_Zg8FErNwtD9dSwmylNma2jcG838M1sBHn9awg-ZIU84H7bAbT-u1gOiPOV7XjmHMkuo/s1347/unknown+2.png" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="911" data-original-width="1347" height="371" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiRkELYQ5mOuJqB6nnhffEKOgdk24oJpVS4lQ5-g6TICelr39n9n_GSsbi1Ny6AwTZTncdfldHw_Zg8FErNwtD9dSwmylNma2jcG838M1sBHn9awg-ZIU84H7bAbT-u1gOiPOV7XjmHMkuo/w549-h371/unknown+2.png" width="549" /></a></div><div><br /></div><div>When studying my inner child, it is hard to figure out who I am. My memories begin with Robbie getting sick and then dying and the quiet suffocating pain in my family. It is very hard for me to remember who I was as a person before this life altering loss. Do I like going to conventions because it is like I am getting to hang out with him or is it something I just like? Did I want to become a police officer because of that gun set he had? Do I still adore monster movies because of his Godzilla? Is this me, him, something we shared?</div><div><br /></div><div>I did eventually get the cool stuff like a Wonder Woman costume my mom made me (OMG, what a story) and she bought me a book on how to be a spy which, quite literally and ironically, prevented me from becoming illiterate. She did not understand me but she figured out what I liked and helped me come out of my shell. Whether I wanted to or not. </div><div><br /></div><div>It is hard to know who we are when we suffer early childhood trauma. I read recently that kids who do have a very hard time connecting with other children because our reality is so completely different. We do not know the levity other children enjoy effortlessly. Joy is not something that comes to me quickly or easily.</div><div><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjtKu306Elill5dq4b7XPk2LEV7IqJ1d7plZMRXFMFIFPeBtXADecjWfiLVco1bD97JKUBdaRmn_2IU1qrQRJ9Ph9Y_4EikfiWdHC29rSc1hMQLDx_y1G8nsdZo8N7_My0b3l8Ck2X2taCs/s282/378301_10151060725918480_2143437830_n.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="282" data-original-width="282" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjtKu306Elill5dq4b7XPk2LEV7IqJ1d7plZMRXFMFIFPeBtXADecjWfiLVco1bD97JKUBdaRmn_2IU1qrQRJ9Ph9Y_4EikfiWdHC29rSc1hMQLDx_y1G8nsdZo8N7_My0b3l8Ck2X2taCs/s0/378301_10151060725918480_2143437830_n.jpg" /></a></div><br /><div>But when it comes, it is true. It is deep and real and beautiful. It has taken me a long time to figure out how to bring play and fun to my life but it is something I am capable of. I spent a lot of my life super serious, challenging and rebellious. Now I want to get back to that adventurous Suzie who is fearless and even at times, fun. The me I lost when my brother Robbie died. </div><div><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhBAMdPaNz7B1hpLhOT2SoLxU0g3Hz5PxxCYWdTNNMfU07VuPFgaRgMbIw4fTNug8mxDTW2UJd_5tkCuLSgTtre8s8G8SYrJd7MXRVCHgxvE2vqmE0mgrcIsnKtheMji3N-QO8Rc2OKi80z/s960/941844_10151984237223480_1001792553_n.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="960" data-original-width="758" height="446" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhBAMdPaNz7B1hpLhOT2SoLxU0g3Hz5PxxCYWdTNNMfU07VuPFgaRgMbIw4fTNug8mxDTW2UJd_5tkCuLSgTtre8s8G8SYrJd7MXRVCHgxvE2vqmE0mgrcIsnKtheMji3N-QO8Rc2OKi80z/w353-h446/941844_10151984237223480_1001792553_n.jpg" width="353" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div>Every time time I put on a silly hat or dress up as Tank Girl it is not only a reclaiming of my child within but a way for him to be with me in spirit wearing his tiger costume, smiling at me wanting me to be happy. </div><div><br /></div><div>And BTW, <a href="https://youtu.be/H_zgl8ZB_84">Tank Girl Walks Softly But She Carries A Big GUN</a>! </div>Suzie Ridlerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08603343663483772145noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-412767573408037442.post-75468701193316862032021-02-14T22:14:00.003-04:002021-02-14T22:33:38.617-04:00My Brother Robbie Ridler &. My Healing Journey<p> </p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEie-7T3DBPWn3Oluj0q1dmQw7BOampntLLmQ6Je7B5jPYyzRoWESAUE3IO2VzAX-amuxcVl9371wtIn8vegyaRBA2URJOpOLqYAyEfDDbfq0Rg-cvSM35nFBYeLoUkJBc5LNJB4pYRJpK9a/s1350/unknown.png" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="918" data-original-width="1350" height="450" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEie-7T3DBPWn3Oluj0q1dmQw7BOampntLLmQ6Je7B5jPYyzRoWESAUE3IO2VzAX-amuxcVl9371wtIn8vegyaRBA2URJOpOLqYAyEfDDbfq0Rg-cvSM35nFBYeLoUkJBc5LNJB4pYRJpK9a/w661-h450/unknown.png" width="661" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: x-small;"><i>Me and Robbie, photo courtesy Inta Ridler<br />Special thanks to our sister Jamie for saving these photos with love and care</i></span></td></tr></tbody></table><p></p><div>We had a brother named Robbie. When Robbie was just six years old he developed brain cancer. Around six months later he died. After that, hardly anyone ever spoke of him. The pain and loss of losing that little boy tore the heart and soul out of our family. Technically time went by and a new family was literally born (and an awesome one at that) but he turned into a ghost. No one would talk about him. I tried. In fact I wouldn't shut up about him and wanted to have slide shows so I could see my brother but the answer was almost always a silent no. </div><div><br /></div><div>I have read books on grief and loss and trauma and the truth is, most children my age (I was just a month or so from turning three when he passed away) do not have memories, let alone the vivid ones I have around this long and painful tragedy in our family. It is seared on my soul, like I am carrying it for everyone else. I appear to be the memory keeper and it is a huge and painful burden to bear. Do not ask me to remember other people's names or numbers but the night the doctor at the hospital told my parents there was nothing else that could be done, I remember. </div><div><br /></div><div>He deserves to be remembered and honoured and I do not care how deeply taboo it is for me to talk about him. So I am reinventing my website. His slow agonizing death is where my memories begin. </div><div><br /></div><h2 style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: arial;">Healing The Inner Child</span></h2><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgtJrXylX__XIJF_vzX5gQoRux_1MN4dg8PMxVfANkfbixm3rbwJCwMpGE20LjMOzY1QngRph7iV5p4r8vsolJKROPbK2jl0Gg6wO9x4P_ylpxez50iivUngdgG_2qliizoAlu6Tv7tqKrA/s1354/unknown+2.png" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="911" data-original-width="1354" height="317" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgtJrXylX__XIJF_vzX5gQoRux_1MN4dg8PMxVfANkfbixm3rbwJCwMpGE20LjMOzY1QngRph7iV5p4r8vsolJKROPbK2jl0Gg6wO9x4P_ylpxez50iivUngdgG_2qliizoAlu6Tv7tqKrA/w472-h317/unknown+2.png" width="472" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: x-small;"><i>Mom and Me</i></span></td></tr></tbody></table><div><br /></div><div>This is perhaps the most radical, painful, rebellious and hopefully healing project of my life. It has been my belief as a result of 20 years of being on a health odyssey to cure my fibromyalgia that Robbie's death is the crux and core of why I am a diagnosed insomniac which has lead to my fibromyalgia. I remember telling my mom about my theory 10 years ago and she said, "Leave it to you Suzie to make Robbie's death about you." </div><div><br /></div><div>I felt sick. Once again, I was punished for bringing up Robbie at all and to be punished and basically called a Narcissist from the one person I loved move in the world cut me off at my knees. Intellectually I knew it was all bullshit, that it was my mom's way of deflecting her pain and lack of capacity to talk about the subject, but fuck it hurt. And it made me furious. But I said nothing. Like I learned over the years, you do not talk about Robbie. </div><div><br /></div><div>Even more deeply I knew that it was completely unfair because as an empathic child with an apparently ridiculous memory for the horror of what our family went through, I was the emotional sponge that soaked up all the anguish everyone was feeling but not talking about. I may not have understood what was happening to Robbie but I felt all the sadness, fear, horror and loss they all went through. And nobody would talk to me about it. I was left to grieve, scream in sadness and loss over my brother disappearing and no one acknowledging he ever existed. I took their pain. I had no choice. I felt everything. I saw it all and understood none of it and was left carrying it like a doomed stone in my heart. </div><div><br /></div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEibB1duzEJKh_wyiBwoNL2Ens0nGx2X6JikxydPEKSgU2j9oaNZHy520R-mp4-AyPdpFe8aRo484kH0HwIp56us0bkul2LJqsGn_QTxDz7cirjT8ZHM4x1rgcsnpi1rzmywYReRfyNRHTEn/s1328/unknown+3.png" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="895" data-original-width="1328" height="369" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEibB1duzEJKh_wyiBwoNL2Ens0nGx2X6JikxydPEKSgU2j9oaNZHy520R-mp4-AyPdpFe8aRo484kH0HwIp56us0bkul2LJqsGn_QTxDz7cirjT8ZHM4x1rgcsnpi1rzmywYReRfyNRHTEn/w547-h369/unknown+3.png" width="547" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: x-small;">Mom and Me</span></i></td></tr></tbody></table><div><br /></div><div>Eventually I realized Robbie was dead. He was not coming home. He was not OK and our family was changed forever. I remember telling my mom that I was not going to end up like Robbie and she asked me why. I told her, "I am not going to get sick." She laughed at me and said, "Oh, everybody dies."</div><div><br /></div><div>That was it. I was three years old and I was going to die.</div><div><br /></div><div>I cried. I cried so hard and I screamed in anguish, "But I just got here!!!"</div><div><br /></div><div>Mom laughed that way that always hurt to hear but I now understand as an adult it was her way of dealing with the most uncomfortable of situations. She said something about it not happening for a while but I was fucking terrified. When your mom, the person who is the only person on the planet you trust and feel safe around, tells you you are doing to die... Terror seeped into me and the trauma was complete. </div><div><br /></div><div>After that death was around every corner. I trusted nobody and nothing. I thought everything was going to kill me and the absolute worst thing in this world was night coming. If I did eventually fall asleep I was either terrorized by nightmares or I would be up all night wondering when sleep was going to kill me. I would lie on my side with my head on my hands and I could hear my heartbeat. It inspired images of soldiers marching off to war to be murdered. Everything was about the inevitable end that was coming to get us all and sleep was the worst offender. How many times did I meet the grim reaper as a child when I finally could fall asleep? Even when I slept, it was about torture and death.</div><div><br /></div><div>So yes Mom, I am going there. I am going back to that awful painful time to analyze it and maybe exorcise my demons and the family pain I inherited. In the book <a href="https://www.amazon.ca/Scared-Sick-Childhood-Trauma-Disease/dp/0465013546">Scared Sick</a> I was hoping to find some technique I had not yet tried as an attempt to heal from this trauma of my past. </div><div><br /></div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgLjwfdiAbhLlWrZ1MMXaReR5q8gYy_R00rOxvZ08LLsM6hWAw8JRvdABHfQtFNjie2NdLjuYskzfd0XvZNqWR6T0pMy37wDFkEyjkyj5ZD69ziBnoT8VGX-TVg41X52LH1WRBKFxBow8d3/s2048/IMG_9720.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" height="381" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgLjwfdiAbhLlWrZ1MMXaReR5q8gYy_R00rOxvZ08LLsM6hWAw8JRvdABHfQtFNjie2NdLjuYskzfd0XvZNqWR6T0pMy37wDFkEyjkyj5ZD69ziBnoT8VGX-TVg41X52LH1WRBKFxBow8d3/w508-h381/IMG_9720.jpg" width="508" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: x-small;"><i>Excerpt from </i><a href="https://www.amazon.ca/Scared-Sick-Childhood-Trauma-Disease/dp/0465013546">Scared Sick</a> <i>by </i></span><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: x-small;"><i>Robin Karr-Morse and Meredith S Wiley </i></span><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: x-small;"><br /></span></td><td class="tr-caption"></td><td class="tr-caption"><br /></td></tr></tbody></table><div>The one thing I have not tried yet is truly having my story witnessed. I tried with my mom but she shut me down 10 years ago and made me feel like a horrible selfish human being. I know now, that there is nothing wrong with trying to heal yourself from losing a loved one and the impact their death had on you and your health. I also know if anyone would want me to heal it is Robbie. Robbie would want me to being able to sleep and live without chronic pain and fatigue. </div><div><br /></div><div>So I am going to try and heal that little girl I was whose constant questions were never answered and learn how to soothe her. I can not do anything about the dying part but I have already survived way more than I ever thought I ever would. That my still being here now is already a fucking miracle. I am still here, seeking answers and healing at the risk of looking selfish and most of all, I want to be able to talk about Robbie without my throat closing up and tears streaming down my face. Like they are right now. Like they have been since I was almost three. </div><div><br /></div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgS9vlR6M1B6csDkpcXzLWNa4udHCEnMg1q1P4hZwyRAOB1T_AsO1Ehjtv7t8nOE8fQ3U4yEVxt9PFkxivzP4rh9KZ1L_PcD-1GGPjgyOd5l-Ty4b2Gmb_K4VWQ5X6x-2MM3heUYb-6wpUQ/s1362/unknown+4.png" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="915" data-original-width="1362" height="404" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgS9vlR6M1B6csDkpcXzLWNa4udHCEnMg1q1P4hZwyRAOB1T_AsO1Ehjtv7t8nOE8fQ3U4yEVxt9PFkxivzP4rh9KZ1L_PcD-1GGPjgyOd5l-Ty4b2Gmb_K4VWQ5X6x-2MM3heUYb-6wpUQ/w601-h404/unknown+4.png" width="601" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: x-small;">Robbie and Me, photo courtesy Inta Ridler</span></i></td></tr></tbody></table><div><br /></div><div>Robbie was a beautiful boy and he was my brother. I never forgot you Robbie. I would visit you all the time by going through your dresser of toys and wanting to play with your silly string but never dare to actually use it. You are why I love Godzilla, Pez, Wacky Packages and all things geeky. Even though I was not allowed to talk about you openly, you have always been with me. I never stopped missing you and hope that by sharing what I went through when I lost you that you will not only be even more a part of my life, that my life will get even better and I will learn how to thrive. </div><div><br /></div><div>Even though you died you are alive in me. I remember. I won't forget. But, I will try and heal. Something a big brother would want for his little sister. </div><div><br /></div><div>It is also my hope that my story may help other people out there overcome the trauma of their past, whatever it might be. I invite you to share your healing journey too. Let's make the pain stop.</div>Suzie Ridlerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08603343663483772145noreply@blogger.com13tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-412767573408037442.post-52370086183559606042019-06-04T13:38:00.000-03:002019-06-04T13:38:25.246-03:00Living With Loneliness<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiP1e3aOdp4b8efFKlb1e-AaNW1A3KMRmVz27PtJBAzPMEBcsQag9ogFLNFj_W5G2zU1OQe4sLZ3Np44-286jjjZP4h4f8jP-aTgxNTVsExpQRckEHoheniCbulgPEddDeJqmrJea97qk2y/s1600/loneliness.jpg" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" data-original-height="640" data-original-width="640" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiP1e3aOdp4b8efFKlb1e-AaNW1A3KMRmVz27PtJBAzPMEBcsQag9ogFLNFj_W5G2zU1OQe4sLZ3Np44-286jjjZP4h4f8jP-aTgxNTVsExpQRckEHoheniCbulgPEddDeJqmrJea97qk2y/s640/loneliness.jpg" width="640" /></a><br />
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All my pre-married life I have been a lone wolf. Living with loneliness has always been a part of my existence. Growing up I lacked connection with the human race. I never felt a part of something and yearned to. The one way I knew how to fill that void was with romantic love. Having a partner was the best way I knew to always ensure that emptiness would not be 100% complete.<br />
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Then I discovered that could also be completely untrue. That the deepest loneliness could be within a relationship. That fucked me up. I wasn't ready for that at all and did not know what to do with that knowledge.<br />
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Since I got on the plane back home, I have been surrounded by people I love. They gave me a soft place to fall. And boy, did I ever fall. Literally even. A year ago I fell down the stairs and spent most of my first summer here in Toronto in bed recovering. From my life falling apart, from almost breaking my leg... Despite that I was never alone.<br />
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Then a year goes by and there is a new loneliness. One where I see that I may not find another love in this lifetime. That I need to start making new memories, new friends and a new life in my old home. My social anxiety has always been very crippling but loneliness can be an inspiring motivator to begin again, something I am usually good at.<br />
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But for those long nights when I feel completely lost I am also making peace with my new aloneness. My autonomous manless reality. That I am OK just being me. That I will make a life and memories of my own, on my own. That my adventurous spirit lives not to just exist to be shared with another human being.<br />
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This aloneness is hard too but one I can survive. One that may actually let me focus on what is good for me and what I need to accomplish. For once I can focus on just myself and my desires. I will sit with this aloneness and then walk out the door to my new life.<br />
<br />
I can feel it, waiting for me.Suzie Ridlerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08603343663483772145noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-412767573408037442.post-10633558112239286892018-11-12T14:25:00.001-04:002018-11-12T14:29:36.800-04:00Saffron Locket Tutorial: Making A Cameo Keepsake<a data-flickr-embed="true" href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/suzieridler/44031343950/in/dateposted/" title="Saffron Locket Tutorial: Making A Cameo Keepsake"><img alt="Saffron Locket Tutorial: Making A Cameo Keepsake" height="426" src="https://farm5.staticflickr.com/4918/44031343950_fc94c94c58_z.jpg" width="640" /></a><script async="" charset="utf-8" src="//embedr.flickr.com/assets/client-code.js"></script><br />
<br />
Once again I was drawn to make myself another necklace. It is such an odd feeling since I usually make things for other people but I am having the year from hell so I guess I personally need some extra mojo. I believe in following the energy, even if it is for myself. Here is the story about <i>The Saffron Locket</i>.<br />
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<b><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">Saffron?</span></b><br />
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<a data-flickr-embed="true" href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/suzieridler/44031356470/in/dateposted/" title="Saffron Locket Tutorial: Making A Cameo Keepsake"><img alt="Saffron Locket Tutorial: Making A Cameo Keepsake" height="640" src="https://farm5.staticflickr.com/4915/44031356470_9bc5d2ea71_z.jpg" width="581" /></a><script async="" charset="utf-8" src="//embedr.flickr.com/assets/client-code.js"></script><br />
<br />
Yes, saffron. The most expensive spice on the planet. This container of pure Sierra Spanish saffron is over 20 years old and so is the saffron. My mom used it when she made my favourite Latvian dessert Klingeris (birthday cake) to celebrate my wedding engagement.<br />
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My mom NEVER baked. She was quite against it, to be honest. So this was a huge deal. So was the saffron to a non-foodie which I was at the time. But she gave it to me as part of my gift and I kept it. I moved 10 times and always kept it. But never used it.<br />
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Now back home in Toronto I <i>wanted</i> to use it. Not for culinary purposes but for making an amulet.<br />
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<b><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">The Vessel</span></b><br />
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<a data-flickr-embed="true" href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/suzieridler/45847747541/in/dateposted/" title="Saffron Locket Tutorial: Making A Cameo Keepsake"><img alt="Saffron Locket Tutorial: Making A Cameo Keepsake" height="640" src="https://farm5.staticflickr.com/4816/45847747541_5614230b1d_z.jpg" width="526" /></a><script async="" charset="utf-8" src="//embedr.flickr.com/assets/client-code.js"></script><br />
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I bought this locket at Value Village for $2 and thought it was the perfect vessel. No one would see the saffron, expecting photographs inside instead. The only problem? The cameo was donated because it would not close.<br />
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<b><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">Creative Problem Solving</span></b><br />
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<a data-flickr-embed="true" href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/suzieridler/44031354270/in/dateposted/" title="Saffron Locket Tutorial: Making A Cameo Keepsake"><img alt="Saffron Locket Tutorial: Making A Cameo Keepsake" height="640" src="https://farm2.staticflickr.com/1928/44031354270_0930cba768_z.jpg" width="480" /></a><script async="" charset="utf-8" src="//embedr.flickr.com/assets/client-code.js"></script><br />
<br />
When all else fails, use E6000, professional jeweller's glue. It was a bit tricky.<br />
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<a data-flickr-embed="true" href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/suzieridler/44934942425/in/dateposted/" title="Saffron Locket Tutorial: Making A Cameo Keepsake"><img alt="Saffron Locket Tutorial: Making A Cameo Keepsake" height="640" src="https://farm5.staticflickr.com/4886/44934942425_d4081b22a1_z.jpg" width="481" /></a><script async="" charset="utf-8" src="//embedr.flickr.com/assets/client-code.js"></script><br />
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I added E6000 (highly toxic so make sure to put it in a well ventilated spot while it cures over night), closed the locked and used my vice to gently keep it shut overnight. You could always just use a rubber band if this happens to you.<br />
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<a data-flickr-embed="true" href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/suzieridler/31976800878/in/dateposted/" title="Saffron Locket Tutorial: Making A Cameo Keepsake"><img alt="Saffron Locket Tutorial: Making A Cameo Keepsake" height="640" src="https://farm5.staticflickr.com/4807/31976800878_548323ea87_z.jpg" width="579" /></a><script async="" charset="utf-8" src="//embedr.flickr.com/assets/client-code.js"></script><br />
<br />
It worked! No way that sucker is opening now. Only I will know what is inside (and you of course).<br />
<br />
<a data-flickr-embed="true" href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/suzieridler/45123250024/in/dateposted/" title="Saffron Locket Tutorial: Making A Cameo Keepsake"><img alt="Saffron Locket Tutorial: Making A Cameo Keepsake" height="640" src="https://farm5.staticflickr.com/4833/45123250024_36cef439ca_z.jpg" width="619" /></a><script async="" charset="utf-8" src="//embedr.flickr.com/assets/client-code.js"></script><br />
<br />
It isn't a fancy locket and that is OK. I will wear it to remind myself of my mom and to carry the power of saffron with me.<br />
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<b><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">The Necklace</span></b><br />
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<a data-flickr-embed="true" href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/suzieridler/45123249114/in/dateposted/" title="Saffron Locket Tutorial: Making A Cameo Keepsake"><img alt="Saffron Locket Tutorial: Making A Cameo Keepsake" height="640" src="https://farm2.staticflickr.com/1953/45123249114_9a3714b39b_z.jpg" width="640" /></a><script async="" charset="utf-8" src="//embedr.flickr.com/assets/client-code.js"></script><br />
<br />
I even created a double chain choker necklace with beads the colour of saffron to remind me of the power inside.<br />
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<b><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">Amulets</span></b><br />
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<a data-flickr-embed="true" href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/suzieridler/44031347560/in/dateposted/" title="Saffron Locket Tutorial: Making A Cameo Keepsake"><img alt="Saffron Locket Tutorial: Making A Cameo Keepsake" height="640" src="https://farm5.staticflickr.com/4867/44031347560_5fa08c0f8c_z.jpg" width="480" /></a><script async="" charset="utf-8" src="//embedr.flickr.com/assets/client-code.js"></script><br />
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Amulets that you make yourself have even more power than something you buy at a store because this is your design, materials, ideas and spirit.<br />
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<b><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">Future Idea</span></b><br />
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<a data-flickr-embed="true" href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/suzieridler/44934932345/in/dateposted/" title="Saffron Locket Tutorial: Making A Cameo Keepsake"><img alt="Saffron Locket Tutorial: Making A Cameo Keepsake" height="593" src="https://farm5.staticflickr.com/4830/44934932345_5e8af37a00_z.jpg" width="640" /></a><script async="" charset="utf-8" src="//embedr.flickr.com/assets/client-code.js"></script><br />
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I am even considering using the little box the saffron came in as a pendant too!<br />
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<b><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">In Conclusion</span></b><br />
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<a data-flickr-embed="true" href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/suzieridler/45123248654/in/dateposted/" title="Saffron Locket Tutorial: Making A Cameo Keepsake"><img alt="Saffron Locket Tutorial: Making A Cameo Keepsake" height="453" src="https://farm5.staticflickr.com/4902/45123248654_3daf04255a_z.jpg" width="640" /></a><script async="" charset="utf-8" src="//embedr.flickr.com/assets/client-code.js"></script><br />
<br />
For me this is not just a little memory locket for my mom. It is also a talisman of power, strength and clairvoyance.<br />
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Is there something you have been holding onto that you can transform into something wearable to keep that energy alive? I wonder what you magic with jewelry you can make!Suzie Ridlerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08603343663483772145noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-412767573408037442.post-6020227210405219812018-09-04T10:43:00.000-03:002018-09-04T10:43:04.806-03:00Fearless Warrior Pendant - Labradorite & Quartz<a data-flickr-embed="true" href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/suzieridler/43743872034/in/dateposted/" title="Fearless Warrior Pendant - Labrodite & Quartz"><img alt="Fearless Warrior Pendant - Labrodite & Quartz" height="360" src="https://farm2.staticflickr.com/1867/43743872034_2c65059e00_z.jpg" width="640" /></a><script async="" charset="utf-8" src="//embedr.flickr.com/assets/client-code.js"></script><br />
<br />
People often wonder why the heck I am obsessed with skulls. Years ago when I lived on a mountain in BC I watched a yoga program by <a href="http://www.padmayoga.ca/">Padma</a> almost every day. She taught me the Sanskrit word "Mrityunjay" which she describes as fearlessness of death. This resonated with me.<br />
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My inability to sleep stems from this fear. But how does one become unafraid of the inevitable end? By embracing skulls, I am choosing to look it in the eye. I choose to wear it. I choose to not deny its existence.<br />
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I am alive because choose not to be afraid.<br />
<br />
<b><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">Leslieville Flea Market</span></b><br />
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<a data-flickr-embed="true" href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/suzieridler/43743870674/in/dateposted/" title="Fearless Warrior Pendant - Labrodite & Quartz"><img alt="Fearless Warrior Pendant - Labrodite & Quartz" height="480" src="https://farm2.staticflickr.com/1848/43743870674_346c37ddf4_z.jpg" width="640" /></a><script async="" charset="utf-8" src="//embedr.flickr.com/assets/client-code.js"></script><br />
<br />
A friend of mine took me to the <a href="https://leslievilleflea.com/">Leslieville Flea Market at Ashbridge Estates</a>. I do not think there is anything I enjoy more than going to flea markets looking for deals. I used to go by this property all the time on my way to The Beaches when I was finishing high school and all through university when I was in therapy.<br />
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<a data-flickr-embed="true" href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/suzieridler/43743867704/in/dateposted/" title="Fearless Warrior Pendant - Labrodite & Quartz"><img alt="Fearless Warrior Pendant - Labrodite & Quartz" height="480" src="https://farm2.staticflickr.com/1877/43743867704_3e819a3b6f_z.jpg" width="640" /></a><script async="" charset="utf-8" src="//embedr.flickr.com/assets/client-code.js"></script><br />
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It was the perfect place for a flea market.<br />
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<a href="https://www.facebook.com/AtlasTrove/"><b><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">Atlas Trove</span></b></a><br />
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<a data-flickr-embed="true" href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/suzieridler/43552355185/in/dateposted/" title="Fearless Warrior Pendant - Labrodite & Quartz"><img alt="Fearless Warrior Pendant - Labrodite & Quartz" height="640" src="https://farm2.staticflickr.com/1852/43552355185_e0a3492345_z.jpg" width="556" /></a><script async="" charset="utf-8" src="//embedr.flickr.com/assets/client-code.js"></script><br />
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It turned out to mostly be a place for artisans to sell their work but with work like this, I could hardly complain.<br />
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<a data-flickr-embed="true" href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/suzieridler/43552350565/in/dateposted/" title="Fearless Warrior Pendant - Labrodite & Quartz"><img alt="Fearless Warrior Pendant - Labrodite & Quartz" height="431" src="https://farm2.staticflickr.com/1889/43552350565_4a91950ac2_z.jpg" width="640" /></a><script async="" charset="utf-8" src="//embedr.flickr.com/assets/client-code.js"></script><br />
<br />
We fell in love with <a href="http://Atlas Trove">Atlas Trove</a> in particular. The stones, the sculptures... Everything resonated.<br />
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<a data-flickr-embed="true" href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/suzieridler/43743861534/in/dateposted/" title="Fearless Warrior Pendant - Labrodite & Quartz"><img alt="Fearless Warrior Pendant - Labrodite & Quartz" height="626" src="https://farm2.staticflickr.com/1850/43743861534_079c9e7766_z.jpg" width="640" /></a><script async="" charset="utf-8" src="//embedr.flickr.com/assets/client-code.js"></script><br />
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The idea of making a terrarium of gems and crystals was brilliant.<br />
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<a data-flickr-embed="true" href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/suzieridler/43552352705/in/dateposted/" title="Fearless Warrior Pendant - Labrodite & Quartz"><img alt="Fearless Warrior Pendant - Labrodite & Quartz" height="640" src="https://farm2.staticflickr.com/1862/43552352705_84d8c854a6_z.jpg" width="636" /></a><script async="" charset="utf-8" src="//embedr.flickr.com/assets/client-code.js"></script><br />
<br />
It all felt alive. Everything was stunning.<br />
<br />
<a data-flickr-embed="true" href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/suzieridler/43552346875/in/dateposted/" title="Fearless Warrior Pendant - Labrodite & Quartz"><img alt="Fearless Warrior Pendant - Labrodite & Quartz" height="618" src="https://farm2.staticflickr.com/1859/43552346875_d67f14f5ea_z.jpg" width="640" /></a><script async="" charset="utf-8" src="//embedr.flickr.com/assets/client-code.js"></script><br />
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<a href="https://www.facebook.com/AtlasTrove/">Atlas Trove</a> even had items I had never seen before like these fairy fingers!<br />
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<a data-flickr-embed="true" href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/suzieridler/43743862724/in/dateposted/" title="Fearless Warrior Pendant - Labrodite & Quartz"><img alt="Fearless Warrior Pendant - Labrodite & Quartz" height="640" src="https://farm2.staticflickr.com/1860/43743862724_96f75458db_z.jpg" width="533" /></a><script async="" charset="utf-8" src="//embedr.flickr.com/assets/client-code.js"></script><br />
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This cross-cut geode necklace was beyond beautiful and went home with my friend.<br />
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<a data-flickr-embed="true" href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/suzieridler/29523882027/in/dateposted/" title="Fearless Warrior Pendant - Labrodite & Quartz"><img alt="Fearless Warrior Pendant - Labrodite & Quartz" height="640" src="https://farm2.staticflickr.com/1849/29523882027_af68a7938f_z.jpg" width="480" /></a><script async="" charset="utf-8" src="//embedr.flickr.com/assets/client-code.js"></script><br />
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This is what caught my eye. This skull spoke to me. It was the last one left and was made out of Labradorite The woman who sold the piece to me said that it was good for protection but it also turns out to be very helpful for opening the Third Eye, something I need a lot of help with. Something my shaman told me I had to find a way to open up. So, I bought it.<br />
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I rinsed under cold clean water and put it on my altar during the full moon to cleanse and bless it. It does not matter that I am in the basement. All magic is about intention. Would it be better to be in the full moonlight? Sure. Is it necessary? No.<br />
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<b><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">Making The Necklace</span></b><br />
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<a data-flickr-embed="true" href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/suzieridler/29523881377/in/dateposted/" title="Fearless Warrior Pendant - Labrodite & Quartz"><img alt="Fearless Warrior Pendant - Labrodite & Quartz" height="480" src="https://farm2.staticflickr.com/1846/29523881377_78c7646b89_z.jpg" width="640" /></a><script async="" charset="utf-8" src="//embedr.flickr.com/assets/client-code.js"></script><br />
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I attached a bail with professional jeweller's blue because I did not want to harm the stone. From there I added quartz chips and this aqua seaglass-style beads and brown glass beads that mirrored the colour of the skull.<br />
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<a data-flickr-embed="true" href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/suzieridler/29523879247/in/dateposted/" title="Fearless Warrior Pendant - Labrodite & Quartz"><img alt="Fearless Warrior Pendant - Labrodite & Quartz" height="640" src="https://farm2.staticflickr.com/1860/29523879247_74d0378b94_z.jpg" width="481" /></a><script async="" charset="utf-8" src="//embedr.flickr.com/assets/client-code.js"></script><br />
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Labradorite comes from Labrador and is associated with the Northern Lights. I wanted those colours mirrored in the piece without being too dark or harsh. I wanted it to glow and shine.<br />
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<a data-flickr-embed="true" href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/suzieridler/43743839544/in/dateposted/" title="Fearless Warrior Pendant - Labrodite & Quartz"><img alt="Fearless Warrior Pendant - Labrodite & Quartz" height="640" src="https://farm2.staticflickr.com/1847/43743839544_f6d6cae6e3_z.jpg" width="558" /></a><script async="" charset="utf-8" src="//embedr.flickr.com/assets/client-code.js"></script><br />
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I made it choker length which will make wearing it in public quite dramatic. I hope!<br />
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<b><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">Magic Just For You</span></b><br />
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<a data-flickr-embed="true" href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/suzieridler/43743836754/in/dateposted/" title="Fearless Warrior Pendant - Labrodite & Quartz"><img alt="Fearless Warrior Pendant - Labrodite & Quartz" height="640" src="https://farm2.staticflickr.com/1894/43743836754_5f212b4968_z.jpg" width="480" /></a><script async="" charset="utf-8" src="//embedr.flickr.com/assets/client-code.js"></script><br />
<br />
So many times I have made amulets and talismans for other people. This is the first time I have made one for myself. <a href="http://suzieridler.blogspot.com/2018/06/what-is-your-story-how-stories-help-or.html">I feel I have an omen following me until my birthday this year.</a><br />
<br />
First I almost decided to go get my OHIP card in North York where the guy ran people over on the sidewalk. Second I could have easily been in an area where there was a shooting on Danforth. Third I was supposed to be at Yorkdale last week when the shooting happened. I sincerely hope bad things happen in threes.<br />
<br />
That said, the Suzie that moved away from Toronto had a lot of fear. I was scared all the time when I lived in this city for 19 years. As an empathic person, you can pick up on everything and everyone and be completely overwhelmed by the reality around you.<br />
<br />
I am not that Suzie anymore. I will not let fear bully me into staying home and being scared. Yes, there are violent realities in this city but it is also one of the most exciting cites on this planet. There is so much potential and this amulet is going to remind me that I am living fearlessly now. I acknowledge the fear and take away its power over me.<br />
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Nothing is going to terrorize me into running away ever again.Suzie Ridlerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08603343663483772145noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-412767573408037442.post-47742510675002885292018-08-29T19:43:00.000-03:002018-08-29T19:57:50.703-03:00Letting Stuff Go<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0xele4xEc4am4RwMZOz6m3x_ltKbdIeNqBWZxT8wqmSt1z17gLmDcqh2pDOA46kRHRsNYynscnfZbBSYsT-MSOA6g-cdhrO3TUOdL77eqlDJQshJ8yVCkTZLF1H3wUDO_NqfuwTy8T9Dk/s1600/Letting+stuff+go%2521%2521%2521.jpg" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" data-original-height="1080" data-original-width="1080" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0xele4xEc4am4RwMZOz6m3x_ltKbdIeNqBWZxT8wqmSt1z17gLmDcqh2pDOA46kRHRsNYynscnfZbBSYsT-MSOA6g-cdhrO3TUOdL77eqlDJQshJ8yVCkTZLF1H3wUDO_NqfuwTy8T9Dk/s640/Letting+stuff+go%2521%2521%2521.jpg" width="640" /></a><br />
<br />
I have had this <a href="https://www.mec.ca/en/">Mountain Equipment Bag</a> for over ten years. It was a mistake. I should not have bought it. Ever since then I have had buyer's remorse. I picked it out because it was on sale. That was my mistake.<br />
<br />
Why don't I like it? I actually really dislike the colour yellow. What I really HATE is the combination of yellow with black. It reminds me of bees and wasps and I had a two terrifying experiences with bumblebees when I was a kid.<br />
<br />
But I needed a new backpack and we were poor. I bought one I hated for $5 less other ones I would have loved.<br />
<br />
<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEghePB-gDSkJXFgT1NJP1pW3w1wr6GQpg53Bzw0_OflVqaao5GTShhTYTse0pEv_HSPFkUCai-KEts3-yjc7D9byyuFkVeartloZSudIJgCbO7_n0zqFE9LBe4QhMTAK-itKMGRlz4SsR0o/s1600/unnamed.jpg" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" data-original-height="1147" data-original-width="1600" height="459" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEghePB-gDSkJXFgT1NJP1pW3w1wr6GQpg53Bzw0_OflVqaao5GTShhTYTse0pEv_HSPFkUCai-KEts3-yjc7D9byyuFkVeartloZSudIJgCbO7_n0zqFE9LBe4QhMTAK-itKMGRlz4SsR0o/s640/unnamed.jpg" width="640" /></a><br />
<br />
I should have realized what a stupid mistake this was because the purple and blue bag I bought from <a href="https://www.mec.ca/en/">MEC</a> that I got for my university years lasted FOREVER. And man, did I ever put that bag through hell.<br />
<br />
I loved that bag. Every time I wore it, it felt right. Every time I wore the yellow one, I knew it was not the right bag for me.<br />
<br />
<h2>
<b>Looking Back...</b></h2>
<a data-flickr-embed="true" href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/suzieridler/5880167099/" title="Scrapbook: Westwood Plateau, British Columbia, September 2002"><img alt="Scrapbook: Westwood Plateau, British Columbia, September 2002" height="640" src="https://farm6.staticflickr.com/5311/5880167099_c4c848a747_z.jpg" width="425" /></a><script async="" charset="utf-8" src="//embedr.flickr.com/assets/client-code.js"></script><br />
<br />
I bought that backpack when we were living in Westwood Plateau. The neighbourhood was just being built when we moved in and it is 1400 feet above sea level in Coquitlam.<br />
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<a data-flickr-embed="true" href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/suzieridler/5880727928/" title="Scrapbook: Westwood Plateau, British Columbia, September 2002"><img alt="Scrapbook: Westwood Plateau, British Columbia, September 2002" height="423" src="https://farm6.staticflickr.com/5274/5880727928_9c14369c42_z.jpg" width="640" /></a><script async="" charset="utf-8" src="//embedr.flickr.com/assets/client-code.js"></script><br />
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It was not easy for a non-driver to live there but I loved hiking in the hood.<br />
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<a data-flickr-embed="true" href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/suzieridler/6217468032/" title="My Electronic Scrapbook: Westwood Plateau, British Columbia, Winter 2004"><img alt="My Electronic Scrapbook: Westwood Plateau, British Columbia, Winter 2004" height="480" src="https://farm7.staticflickr.com/6173/6217468032_b1511e3d83_z.jpg" width="640" /></a><script async="" charset="utf-8" src="//embedr.flickr.com/assets/client-code.js"></script><br />
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My favourite place was Ridge Park. I must have hiked those woods a thousand times, probably more actually. Often that backpack would go with me.<br />
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<h2>
To The Island</h2>
<a data-flickr-embed="true" href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/suzieridler/6213830913/" title="Hatley Castle, Vancouver Island, British Columbia"><img alt="Hatley Castle, Vancouver Island, British Columbia" height="640" src="https://farm7.staticflickr.com/6054/6213830913_8bcb212d52_z.jpg" width="480" /></a><script async="" charset="utf-8" src="//embedr.flickr.com/assets/client-code.js"></script><br />
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When I lived on Vancouver Island I lived in Colwood which entitled me to be able to walk the grounds of <a href="http://hatleycastle.com/">Hatley Castle</a> for free. <br />
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<a data-flickr-embed="true" href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/suzieridler/6213830611/" title="Hatley Castle, Vancouver Island, British Columbia"><img alt="Hatley Castle, Vancouver Island, British Columbia" height="480" src="https://farm7.staticflickr.com/6153/6213830611_72e361a880_z.jpg" width="640" /></a><script async="" charset="utf-8" src="//embedr.flickr.com/assets/client-code.js"></script><br />
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I would often end up going through the grounds and finally making my way to the Japanese gardens. I often sat in the pagoda and pulled out my journal that I carried in that backpack to write in.<br />
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<h2>
Out East</h2>
<a data-flickr-embed="true" href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/suzieridler/3059317958/in/dateposted/" title="Grounded"><img alt="Grounded" height="480" src="https://farm4.staticflickr.com/3041/3059317958_15a0f8d841_z.jpg" width="640" /></a><script async="" charset="utf-8" src="//embedr.flickr.com/assets/client-code.js"></script><br />
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All those walks to the grocery store in Nova Scotia on roads without sidewalks, I wore that yellow backpack.<br />
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<a data-flickr-embed="true" href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/suzieridler/3681745398/in/dateposted/" title="Shopping"><img alt="Shopping" height="480" src="https://farm3.staticflickr.com/2422/3681745398_b5ee05f10c_z.jpg" width="640" /></a><script async="" charset="utf-8" src="//embedr.flickr.com/assets/client-code.js"></script><br />
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Filled it with groceries and lugged it home like a pack mule on days that were not too dangerous to leave the house. I would also have bags on my shoulders and I could feel the cars brush against them as they went by.<br />
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<h2>
Back West</h2>
<a data-flickr-embed="true" href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/suzieridler/34958772905/in/dateposted/" title="Sneak a Peek at Famous Foods on Kingsway, Vancouver"><img alt="Sneak a Peek at Famous Foods on Kingsway, Vancouver" height="361" src="https://farm5.staticflickr.com/4245/34958772905_9165010741_z.jpg" width="640" /></a><script async="" charset="utf-8" src="//embedr.flickr.com/assets/client-code.js"></script><br />
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Every market I went to in Vancouver to check out, that bag came with me. I often only ended up buying one thing as a treat to try unless I went to Killarney Market or Chong Lee. Then that bag was FULL of food.<br />
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<a data-flickr-embed="true" href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/suzieridler/38324497065/in/dateposted/" title="Tried & True Foodie Gift Ideas"><img alt="Tried & True Foodie Gift Ideas" height="640" src="https://farm5.staticflickr.com/4633/38324497065_0a1624fb35_z.jpg" width="640" /></a><script async="" charset="utf-8" src="//embedr.flickr.com/assets/client-code.js"></script><br />
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Oh the Value Village treasures I brought home on my walks in South Vancouver! Clothing, retro dishes for a book I was writing, appliances I bought even though they were over-priced. Others stayed on the shelves and I shamed the company on social media. Still outrageous prices in that hood.<br />
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<h2>
On Trips</h2>
<a data-flickr-embed="true" href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/suzieridler/23683693998/in/dateposted/" title="AirBnB, Takeout Pizza, Honey Cake and Going Home"><img alt="AirBnB, Takeout Pizza, Honey Cake and Going Home" height="427" src="https://farm5.staticflickr.com/4457/23683693998_071dfe9cb8_z.jpg" width="640" /></a><script async="" charset="utf-8" src="//embedr.flickr.com/assets/client-code.js"></script><br />
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Every trip back home I used that bag. My laptop fit in it so when I went to my brother's wedding alone from Vancouver to California it was always with me.<br />
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<h2>
Toronto</h2>
<a data-flickr-embed="true" href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/suzieridler/41482670692/in/dateposted/" title="I Met Nigella Lawson at Yorkdale Indigo April 16, 2018"><img alt="I Met Nigella Lawson at Yorkdale Indigo April 16, 2018" height="640" src="https://farm1.staticflickr.com/941/41482670692_67fb5a1d3d_z.jpg" width="481" /></a><script async="" charset="utf-8" src="//embedr.flickr.com/assets/client-code.js"></script><br />
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<a href="http://www.suziethefoodie.com/moving-back-to-toronto/">When I got on that plane via wheelchair to get back home to Toronto</a>, I had it clutched to my chest. It stayed by my feet the whole long tear-fest flight back to Toronto.<br />
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<a data-flickr-embed="true" href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/suzieridler/26654239777/in/dateposted/" title="I Met Nigella Lawson at Yorkdale Indigo April 16, 2018"><img alt="I Met Nigella Lawson at Yorkdale Indigo April 16, 2018" height="502" src="https://farm1.staticflickr.com/889/26654239777_1c78fc7d17_z.jpg" width="640" /></a><script async="" charset="utf-8" src="//embedr.flickr.com/assets/client-code.js"></script><br />
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You can just barely see me wearing it here (straps only) <a href="http://www.suziethefoodie.com/nigella-lawson-yorkdale-indigo/">when I met Nigella</a> in Toronto. My first official foodie event as a Torontonian.<br />
<br />
Even though every time I look at that bag, I wince, I had to write this post to say good-bye. I should never have bought it but I invested in it and even when it is not a right fit I am not the kind of person to just throw it away because I know it is good quality and will not let me down.<br />
<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh02-n6KltXcsC9o4c1F1TYNMnMXCAgl1DuX4ueRvC4HcFJESf3unMuTj4SX5EzU08CR8dUPnsoIOvzOrXx04NZdtyrqO6WJPQ3a55ZNMjD1JkVyy0Jk6hOp5Dsf3CiQPdt4TwyJ9LEnrDX/s1600/Suzie180828-05.jpg" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh02-n6KltXcsC9o4c1F1TYNMnMXCAgl1DuX4ueRvC4HcFJESf3unMuTj4SX5EzU08CR8dUPnsoIOvzOrXx04NZdtyrqO6WJPQ3a55ZNMjD1JkVyy0Jk6hOp5Dsf3CiQPdt4TwyJ9LEnrDX/s640/Suzie180828-05.jpg" width="480" /></a><br />
<br />
Now is the time for good-byes in my life. There are some things I have kept but I am slowly replacing my wardrobe for a new one for a new life here in Toronto. Things from my past life actually hurt me now to look at them. A good friend of mine has been helping me with this transition and gave me the perfect backpack for my new Toronto life.<br />
<br />
I am not a sentimental person when it comes to things but this one was hard. This love-hate relationship I have had with this bag goes way back and I am blown away at how challenging it is to say good-bye to a <i>thing</i>. When it has been used and abused by me this long, it is like an extension of myself.<br />
<br />
But it is time to cut ties with painful reminders of my past. I honoured our journeys together (so many) and am grateful it held together so long.Suzie Ridlerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08603343663483772145noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-412767573408037442.post-28332255850737727772018-07-04T22:28:00.004-03:002018-07-04T22:28:48.863-03:00Healing My Lego Heart<a href="https://www.ebay.ca/itm/BIG-Vintage-WHITE-LEGO-LOT-5-Classic-Spaceman-Jetpacks-Windows-Doors-Flags/123224798304?hash=item1cb0c53460:g:xLkAAOSw~7ZbN~NR"><img border="0" data-original-height="584" data-original-width="447" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEggcSYGSXSHO2HYzchjcMYTSzfqp-Ex0fxfpcbTqr3nh7WfYO2_ifTB2ST9JbuzZutLrsGmgFu_Ir6KyqC0CHVmNpMNDAebkS5YdQp9XoSDnIVg7BVQLAFjVDSK5SIauCVCjn2LGo8AzoOg/s640/white+lego.jpg" width="490" /></a><br />
<br />
<br />
I remember playing with Lego for the first and last time. All I could come with to make was a house for a mouse. Basically a square with a hole. I was absolutely convinced that I had no imagination whatsoever and never played again, absolutely disappointed with my lack of creativity. I was four.<br />
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<a href="https://www.jamieridlerstudios.ca/">My sister Jamie</a> is getting ready for a renovation. She has been going through the many things that she inherited from our mom's passing and we all agreed it was time to sell the Lego. So I got to working on ideas on how we could present the <a href="https://www.ebay.ca/sch/sacredsuzie/m.html?item=123224795889&ssPageName=STRK%3AMESELX%3AIT&rt=nc&_trksid=p2047675.l2562">Lego on eBay</a>. I decided having "models" show off the cuteness and creativity of our vintage collection would be so much fun. Justin created the white astronaut in seconds.<br />
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<a href="https://www.ebay.ca/itm/BIG-Vintage-RED-LEGO-LOT-7x1978-Astronauts-Spacemen-Helmets-Jetpacks-Wheels/123224799255?hash=item1cb0c53817:g:23oAAOSwnpBbOSxa"><img border="0" data-original-height="1500" data-original-width="1501" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjwe_nP-nVVW-TIU_ltIxdTsCnKKJ2PZXFpy2uLaO29aXe0Ve58Q7lj0u_E-ijCc1gvPBjJlgTxoTQghnCp_hHGtnH9fXK6onwiLUln7_3bfecZJTFeZTSYewB6hxIHmfr2OtIIQWrwRoy_/s640/red.jpg" width="640" /></a><br />
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<a href="https://www.youtube.com/user/PlanetShannonTV">Shannon</a> came over to help out with the photoshoot and made THREE Lego spacemen models! She also helped with layout and backgrounds.<br />
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<a href="https://www.ebay.ca/itm/BIG-Vintage-BLACK-LEGO-LOT-Spacemen-Wheels-Tires-4-x-Guns/123224795889?hash=item1cb0c52af1:g:WckAAOSwRTtbOYUu"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1124" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8s7-FntHQEoqb23hmdlRNfTnZA9L-PgTRTKr3g1V6i8mNvJ9TJOp5F9xALUIgrwBGtd775XzQzMMMTxInYHjFh-iCTdyho1Sji80xwFJTZt02rSSbTSon49ipeew0_v4q6-AbY26inR1C/s640/Black+04.jpg" width="450" /></a><br />
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I decided to face my fear and made this little vehicle with two Lego astronauts with a spinning disk on the back and the one guy had to have a laser gun, of course.<br />
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As I was putting everything together I realized just how crazy it was that I gave up on myself so quickly, so easily. I was so convinced I could not work with 3D despite the fact that I make my own pendants and have worked with clay for god's sake. Fear is a mighty monster.<br />
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<a href="https://www.ebay.ca/itm/BIG-Vintage-GREY-LEGO-LOT-Radar-Knight-Helmets-Guns-Jetpacks-Cones-Army/123224797559?hash=item1cb0c53177:g:SFMAAOSwWOxbOYde"><img border="0" data-original-height="1477" data-original-width="1478" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgfEoNYA3jdRvYRh8j4WmHI0zrALgYghdP7BHjEhhGwlA1xm58u_1-zHGUUs-kuIHHuVGvFvnTqw3zHcBgLqkrKy5Ose1ZpzP1Rl1pDSGQohRWHovnW71CM2mUwdW3QyAbfQtNs5_oBGclR/s640/grey.jpg" width="640" /></a><br />
<br />
I have conquered a lot of fears in my lifetime but who knew that even now after everything I have been through that I was still scared that Lego would defeat me?<br />
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Defeat me? Check out this cool space vehicle I made with radar and its own space arm?!<br />
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I finally got to play with <a href="https://www.ebay.ca/sch/sacredsuzie/m.html?item=123224795889&ssPageName=STRK%3AMESELX%3AIT&rt=nc&_trksid=p2047675.l2562">Lego one last time before it all potentially disappears</a> down the red gullet of Canada Post. It opened my eyes up to the fact that I <i>do</i> have an imagination. I have vision and am open to possibilities that I once walked away from.<br />
<br />
Mom, you helped heal my Lego heart. Thank you for all your gifts.Suzie Ridlerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08603343663483772145noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-412767573408037442.post-80330390101876111852018-06-14T23:34:00.001-03:002018-06-14T23:48:08.096-03:00What Is Your Story? How Stories Help or Oppress.<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhA394pPog1YXVGkut_htVKoDvjgbb-EgU_kUG76baYauXkKxa9v9gubVu7a_mbU0TvI4ZZfOf_paUoHYCYbUE5YlgjQORVdvCDmcZYpH_HmEMr2cXoMG5PUETt5VJUUB7keZ5q62yUVhSl/s1600/yourstory180118-03.jpg" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" data-original-height="912" data-original-width="1600" height="365" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhA394pPog1YXVGkut_htVKoDvjgbb-EgU_kUG76baYauXkKxa9v9gubVu7a_mbU0TvI4ZZfOf_paUoHYCYbUE5YlgjQORVdvCDmcZYpH_HmEMr2cXoMG5PUETt5VJUUB7keZ5q62yUVhSl/s640/yourstory180118-03.jpg" width="640" /></a><br />
<i><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: x-small;">From my junior high school yearbook and no, I am not in the photo</span></i><br />
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Stories. I have always loved stories. I used to make them up. I would devour them like cookies. I could never get enough. But, sometimes stories lie. Like me being terrified in my home ec class because I believed the story that I could never learn how to cook or bake. <a href="http://www.suziethefoodie.com/">Clearly that story was a big fat lie</a>.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQWdLc19yiKOh8Evppbw7s2Rvv3CnyHxfgH1hmp9Z1JpFLbfmp0lVFletIMqPxLAAGWMoptsQ8DUy-_R74njZcJv5LHgE2JwqJNhvqEYGEl20EgoRjWBun-XHwkAblQD8sDPRczkXS9ATU/s1600/yourstory180117-01.jpg" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQWdLc19yiKOh8Evppbw7s2Rvv3CnyHxfgH1hmp9Z1JpFLbfmp0lVFletIMqPxLAAGWMoptsQ8DUy-_R74njZcJv5LHgE2JwqJNhvqEYGEl20EgoRjWBun-XHwkAblQD8sDPRczkXS9ATU/s640/yourstory180117-01.jpg" width="640" /></a><br />
<i><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: x-small;">Miscellaneous awards I won in public school</span></i><br />
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I once read a book (sorry, title has gone "poof") that asked the reader what it would be like if we realized the stories that we tell ourselves about who we are, were not true? Would we be liberated from questioning the validity of the story? Is that story haunting us or helping us?<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhlgEaayUNPJj8wcHGtdFRzLRjAlo9kiH5_2ebB6kJcRQKi9xq60Q9O8iPSwGa0G5APbL_ORUHjkjkXyDQUadNCMJ9JNNL2U4CnUVilmTzyRHqQwVte9ltK6Jg1XKWKMcphF8wsuIwU-64r/s1600/yourstory180118-02.jpg" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhlgEaayUNPJj8wcHGtdFRzLRjAlo9kiH5_2ebB6kJcRQKi9xq60Q9O8iPSwGa0G5APbL_ORUHjkjkXyDQUadNCMJ9JNNL2U4CnUVilmTzyRHqQwVte9ltK6Jg1XKWKMcphF8wsuIwU-64r/s640/yourstory180118-02.jpg" width="480" /></a><br />
<i><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: x-small;">Corsage from junior high formal that I went to alone (as usual) and my volleyball insignia</span></i><br />
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I have a story. One that has followed me since I left Toronto over 20 years ago. Every time we had to make a big move and I considered going back, a voice would show up in the middle of a dream and would wake me up by saying...<br />
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<a data-flickr-embed="true" href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/suzieridler/29671785513/in/album-72157674667898085/" title="October 12, 2016"><img alt="October 12, 2016" height="427" src="https://farm9.staticflickr.com/8269/29671785513_15d251b018_z.jpg" width="640" /></a><script async="" charset="utf-8" src="//embedr.flickr.com/assets/client-code.js"></script><br />
<i><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: x-small;">My sisters and I on my last visit to Toronto in 2016</span></i><br />
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"You will die if you move back to Toronto."<br />
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OK Universe, you have always made it quite clear, I was not to move back home to Toronto.<br />
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I listened to that voice. Every time. It was not subtle. If was very clear. Do not move back to Toronto. So I didn't. Until I did.<br />
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<a data-flickr-embed="true" href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/suzieridler/39037044514/in/album-72157647209575758/" title="Calamari and Paint At Mahony & Sons"><img alt="Calamari and Paint At Mahony & Sons" height="640" src="https://farm5.staticflickr.com/4747/39037044514_b2f00afa34_z.jpg" width="480" /></a><script async="" charset="utf-8" src="//embedr.flickr.com/assets/client-code.js"></script><br />
<i><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: x-small;">The night before I found out my marriage was over</span></i><br />
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But life in Vancouver became unbearable. No voice came to me at night to tell me not to go home. I knew I couldn't stay in BC anymore despite how much I loved it. Everything reminded me of all the hopes and dreams I had of a future that would never be. I was alone and living there was killing me.<br />
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No joke. I ended up seeing a cardiologist because I was having heart problems. This was as serious as it gets.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjw3nhMHklXndsGQWD9IS-xE0BuRj2IPoCdUtDgEg6nO-J1_JI8HDbm6OI6XUTUlF9vaTgw93VQJnB2A1vd6OOGbspLJr6XkD0N_aMPoFLZPUTqZYhAzGXvy3O-BcakqEs97iRB35EE4bhz/s1600/yourstory180119-04.jpg" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjw3nhMHklXndsGQWD9IS-xE0BuRj2IPoCdUtDgEg6nO-J1_JI8HDbm6OI6XUTUlF9vaTgw93VQJnB2A1vd6OOGbspLJr6XkD0N_aMPoFLZPUTqZYhAzGXvy3O-BcakqEs97iRB35EE4bhz/s640/yourstory180119-04.jpg" width="480" /></a><br />
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So I jumped. That omen be damned, I left in just a few days. I would have preferred Toronto to kill me than to die a slow, inevitable and painful death due to complete and total misery on the west coast.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEitXmZyLHPGr_BbehOaJxvLtuTF3aBoDbzkI-LhUHigEsVpi7Aas-AmYPx9ajuWm6Hv-r8hRpv_p7Rcd7uRkZoLY4T0wCf50quYHgZKyBd3SwLxWZid5BOsxeb-_I4dXajD32H-jWS0maC5/s1600/yourstory180228-05.jpg" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEitXmZyLHPGr_BbehOaJxvLtuTF3aBoDbzkI-LhUHigEsVpi7Aas-AmYPx9ajuWm6Hv-r8hRpv_p7Rcd7uRkZoLY4T0wCf50quYHgZKyBd3SwLxWZid5BOsxeb-_I4dXajD32H-jWS0maC5/s640/yourstory180228-05.jpg" width="480" /></a><br />
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And it has not been easy. The move just about ruined my health. I got vertigo from hell and now I am recovering from an epic fall down the stairs.<br />
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<a data-flickr-embed="true" href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/suzieridler/42549693691/in/dateposted/" title="To Hell And Heaven In Less Than 24 Hours"><img alt="To Hell And Heaven In Less Than 24 Hours" height="640" src="https://farm2.staticflickr.com/1748/42549693691_1014559f17_z.jpg" width="542" /></a><script async="" charset="utf-8" src="//embedr.flickr.com/assets/client-code.js"></script><br />
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I landed on top of my right foot and sprained both sides of my ankle, the top of my foot and up the front and back of my leg. Is this because of the omen? No. It is because I should not mix sleeping pills and stairs. Plus, I fall down the stairs a lot. It just happens. Thank you fibromyalgia!<br />
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You know what didn't happen? Nothing broke. Honestly, how I did not break a bone is a bloody miracle. I may be super sensitive but deep down, I must also be pretty damn tough.<br />
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<a data-flickr-embed="true" href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/suzieridler/26654249997/in/dateposted/" title="I Met Nigella Lawson at Yorkdale Indigo April 16, 2018"><img alt="I Met Nigella Lawson at Yorkdale Indigo April 16, 2018" height="640" src="https://farm1.staticflickr.com/883/26654249997_292d797572_z.jpg" width="611" /></a><br />
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I honestly have no idea if the prophecy from old is still applicable today. I spent a whole year preparing for the eventuality of having to go home and no voice came to me to say, stay away from Toronto. In fact since I have been here my mom has visited me in dreams making it very clear that BC is what is poisonous to me and to stop even thinking about it.<br />
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Stories have power. Have I been scared since I got back? Yes. All the time. But just because I am scared does not mean this was not the right choice for me. Vancouver would have been a death sentence for me anyway so why not go back home and see what happens?<br />
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Personally, I just want to make it to my birthday on January 22, 2019. If I can do that, I feel like the curse will be completely lifted. I am writing that as my story. If that story turns out tragically wrong? Well, I tried.<br />
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I prefer to believe that I am the hero of my story and saved myself. That I braved what I was not supposed to do in order to recover from the last year of hell that I endured.<br />
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NOT the end...Suzie Ridlerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08603343663483772145noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-412767573408037442.post-40156631826339235182018-01-09T17:08:00.001-04:002018-01-09T17:13:20.639-04:00Downsizing: What to let go of and what to hold onto<a data-flickr-embed="true" href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/suzieridler/38893026704/in/dateposted/" title="Downsizing: What to let go of and what to hold onto"><img alt="Downsizing: What to let go of and what to hold onto" height="631" src="https://farm5.staticflickr.com/4655/38893026704_620b5c26eb_z.jpg" width="640" /></a><script async="" charset="utf-8" src="//embedr.flickr.com/assets/client-code.js"></script><br />
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Downsizing yet again to fit into a micro-Vancouver apartment that we have not even found yet is not easy. One thing for sure though is, it is time to let everything extra go. Even mementos which is really tough.<br />
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<a data-flickr-embed="true" href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/suzieridler/27824407969/in/dateposted/" title="Downsizing: What to let go of and what to hold onto"><img alt="Downsizing: What to let go of and what to hold onto" height="640" src="https://farm5.staticflickr.com/4744/27824407969_a6ae402aba_z.jpg" width="480" /></a><script async="" charset="utf-8" src="//embedr.flickr.com/assets/client-code.js"></script><br />
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I have had all this stuff for doing embroidery and sewing that I shipped back to my aunt. The truth is the machine sounds like a jack hammer and no one is going to want to hear that. The deeper truth is, as much as I wish I was someone good at sewing and working with thread and needle, I am not Andy from Pretty In Pink. I wanted to be her, but I am not.<br />
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I also gave away three giant bags of yarn to a friend who knits because downsizing also means giving up hobbies. I am letting go of crochet because there is no room left for it in my life. All of these decisions hurt. Crafting is a big part of who I am but if I do not have space, it has to go.<br />
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<a data-flickr-embed="true" href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/suzieridler/24733651477/in/dateposted/" title="Downsizing: What to let go of and what to hold onto"><img alt="Downsizing: What to let go of and what to hold onto" height="640" src="https://farm5.staticflickr.com/4721/24733651477_73d1f4c998_z.jpg" width="480" /></a><script async="" charset="utf-8" src="//embedr.flickr.com/assets/client-code.js"></script><br />
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Overall, I hate my wardrobe. I think I like about two or three items in it maybe but the truth of the matter is, we <i>need</i> clothes. That said, I do not need all these clothes to the stuff I liked least is gone. I also let go of other fun things like wigs because the truth is, they hurt my head. I love getting dressed up but anything that causes me pain is banished.<br />
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<a data-flickr-embed="true" href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/suzieridler/38893017354/in/dateposted/" title="Downsizing: What to let go of and what to hold onto"><img alt="Downsizing: What to let go of and what to hold onto" height="640" src="https://farm5.staticflickr.com/4763/38893017354_294f568fce_z.jpg" width="480" /></a><script async="" charset="utf-8" src="//embedr.flickr.com/assets/client-code.js"></script><br />
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OMG, cookbooks were the hardest to go through! What an investment but I will not have the space for bookcases and bookcases of them. I picked my favourites, the greatest financial investments and treasures and let go of everything else.<br />
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<a data-flickr-embed="true" href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/suzieridler/27824400799/in/dateposted/" title="Downsizing: What to let go of and what to hold onto"><img alt="Downsizing: What to let go of and what to hold onto" height="640" src="https://farm5.staticflickr.com/4716/27824400799_3a6886e756_z.jpg" width="480" /></a><script async="" charset="utf-8" src="//embedr.flickr.com/assets/client-code.js"></script><br />
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I got a little creative with this one. This cookbook had <a href="http://www.suziethefoodie.com/the-ridler-family-traditional-christmas-sugar-cookie/">the original sugar cookie recipe our family uses every year at Christmas</a> and Mom's favourite fried chicken recipe. I took out the pages and donated the rest of the book. I had a lot of autographed books in general that I had gotten as gifts so I took out the page with the autograph and let the rest of the book go.<br />
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<a data-flickr-embed="true" href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/suzieridler/24733643037/in/dateposted/" title="Downsizing: What to let go of and what to hold onto"><img alt="Downsizing: What to let go of and what to hold onto" height="640" src="https://farm5.staticflickr.com/4621/24733643037_da1d804f15_z.jpg" width="640" /></a><script async="" charset="utf-8" src="//embedr.flickr.com/assets/client-code.js"></script><br />
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This one was a close call. Bread makers are huge and this one is Reg's family's that I gave to them and then they gave to me. It almost ended up with all the other appliances I donated like my waffle maker and milkshake maker but I could not do it. Not yet. It is still sitting on my kitchen floor.<br />
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<a data-flickr-embed="true" href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/suzieridler/38893009164/in/dateposted/" title="Downsizing: What to let go of and what to hold onto"><img alt="Downsizing: What to let go of and what to hold onto" height="640" src="https://farm5.staticflickr.com/4705/38893009164_6472031cb5_z.jpg" width="529" /></a><script async="" charset="utf-8" src="//embedr.flickr.com/assets/client-code.js"></script><br />
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It is incredibly hard to decide what few possessions to keep and what to let go of. But there is so much stuff that just is not going to fit into a tiny Vancouver apartment.<br />
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<a data-flickr-embed="true" href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/suzieridler/25730740238/in/dateposted/" title="Downsizing: What to let go of and what to hold onto"><img alt="Downsizing: What to let go of and what to hold onto" height="640" src="https://farm5.staticflickr.com/4669/25730740238_ff22d1d040_z.jpg" width="423" /></a><script async="" charset="utf-8" src="//embedr.flickr.com/assets/client-code.js"></script><br />
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I have had this little statue of a mouse husband and kids since I was six years old. When I lived in Roxboro, Quebec, I had the greatest friend in the world.<br />
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<a data-flickr-embed="true" href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/suzieridler/24733673227/in/dateposted/" title="Downsizing: What to let go of and what to hold onto"><img alt="Downsizing: What to let go of and what to hold onto" height="640" src="https://farm5.staticflickr.com/4674/24733673227_492636e794_z.jpg" width="460" /></a><script async="" charset="utf-8" src="//embedr.flickr.com/assets/client-code.js"></script><br />
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His name was Christopher Findley and we were inseparable. I was devastated when we moved to Toronto but he gave me the little statue to remember him by. You know I am getting serious when I let something I have had that long go to people who will never find it as sacred as I do.<br />
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But it is time for new memories and less stuff. I took photographs of everything, shared it here to make sure it is remembered and honoured but now I can be free of it. Now I can move on and hopefully, with a little help from the Universe, finally find a home.Suzie Ridlerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08603343663483772145noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-412767573408037442.post-89293679374820763302017-11-21T20:56:00.004-04:002017-11-21T20:56:56.413-04:00Name tags And A Walk Down Minimum Wage Lane<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_inBY1yJo48EPXURtwrucFCWIPY846OxpFWHx2UR52iwO5zdzGFm3YYvsoEVEnzMeBuoDtoMc5QxyadUhnD1z0LYf0Wuhzh-A8ohnHwSFcqADHRQTgq2pq2Sb0bkNe9aVQd1hvaAMHgPe/s1600/nametag171026-01.jpg" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" data-original-height="1067" data-original-width="1600" height="427" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_inBY1yJo48EPXURtwrucFCWIPY846OxpFWHx2UR52iwO5zdzGFm3YYvsoEVEnzMeBuoDtoMc5QxyadUhnD1z0LYf0Wuhzh-A8ohnHwSFcqADHRQTgq2pq2Sb0bkNe9aVQd1hvaAMHgPe/s640/nametag171026-01.jpg" width="640" /></a><br />
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I have moved a lot. This will be my 10th move since I moved away from home. There are some little items that I have held onto that I just could not let go of but it is time. I want to honour them before they end up out of my life.<br />
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Name tags. I have had two name tags since I started work when I was 15 at Canada's Wonderland. In some ways I was doomed by getting this job because it was so much fun (and super crappy in some ways, don't get me started on cleaning up diapers and vomit) that it spoiled me for every other job out there. I was so proud I got the job, thanks to my sister Jamie for helping me get all the way out there for the interview. Getting out to Vaughan in the winter time with no buses running is no small feat.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjXyCRpryIyX1ZweO6anFg8osMVDYL3KreO0z5nZ43k87ymD2EjfThRijNQ33ogDDvQSfnu6GchTwpw6Urvyq35Dgu_egL0JffMul8VqAGTIILiNBBCnaINyQ1QAZ9rHuQ-X2uiS0tlW3u4/s1600/11040601_10153321441978480_3350185149850508647_n.jpg" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" data-original-height="606" data-original-width="960" height="404" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjXyCRpryIyX1ZweO6anFg8osMVDYL3KreO0z5nZ43k87ymD2EjfThRijNQ33ogDDvQSfnu6GchTwpw6Urvyq35Dgu_egL0JffMul8VqAGTIILiNBBCnaINyQ1QAZ9rHuQ-X2uiS0tlW3u4/s640/11040601_10153321441978480_3350185149850508647_n.jpg" width="640" /></a><br />
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That is me on the left hamming it up with my friend Kim. We had the ugliest lime green table cloth uniforms to wear at the dolphin show. I didn't care though. I was just so happy to be out of the house, hanging out with people who really seemed to like and care for me. Such a completely different experience than that I was going through in high school. Wonderland was my escape, my nirvana and I mourned every October when the season would be over.<br />
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Not going back to the dolphin show was not my decision. They put me in another theatre and I just could not do it. It was not the same. I missed my friends and the so-called promotion I was getting was just in title alone. Despite the "promotion" I had no real power, did not get to do scheduling or any kind of captaining (that is what it was called) at all. Not going back honestly killed a part of me inside. I have never been one able to fake anything. I would have just cried all day disappointed if I took the job so I got really, really dunk and finally admitted to myself, it was over. That was one of the hardest decisions of my life. It was the only place I was happy but it had gone sour. It was time to leave.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-v_KQOXaQ9GK9khyphenhyphen-PdmoJV3HDegZ0ifXKKkvTDN3IbFfBjKl2JnzPHc9sQybNT9wZ3Wl3NVLUmwBzbqsUOlcORtgest13XUgOSuvf3lGwQsB_lm_7sSOHOEQuXTUus2KCmslTuLQrU8s/s1600/IMG_9350.jpg" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1210" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-v_KQOXaQ9GK9khyphenhyphen-PdmoJV3HDegZ0ifXKKkvTDN3IbFfBjKl2JnzPHc9sQybNT9wZ3Wl3NVLUmwBzbqsUOlcORtgest13XUgOSuvf3lGwQsB_lm_7sSOHOEQuXTUus2KCmslTuLQrU8s/s640/IMG_9350.jpg" width="484" /></a><br />
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This one is from Music World at Fairview Mall in Scarborough back in the day that record stores were a real thing. When I was there tapes were being replaced by CD but we still sold records. I used a wax pencil to write $10.99 on countless Fine Young Cannibals albums. I remember that each title on the back of the record read in order told a story.<br />
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I got the job with my friend Jeanette. At the time we did not realize that going into a store with our resumes together was not a good idea. That said, we both got jobs and worked there for well over a year. I remember using the old school credit card machines on Boxing Day gave me tendinitis of the shoulder. A customer giving us a pack of gum because we ate souvlaki on our lunch break and apparently wreaked of garlic. I met one of the biggest loves of my life there. It was wonderful and it was also awful. I left because too many people were stealing from the store and I got a bad reference for telling my boss it was happening.<br />
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I remember getting migraines when people would play Sinead O'Connor and wanting to scream when Tone Loc Funky Cold Madina would come on. Yes, a lot of the time it was fantastic to work in a record store. I have amazing memories of it but was thrilled that the day I left I was allowed to take home that Tone Loc album because I attacked it with an axe. I also tried to light it on fire. Records are surprisingly durable and tough to destroy.<br />
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I worked a lot of retail after that but do not remember getting any other name tag. After that it was a lot of kitchenwares stores and then a ton of book stores. I actually really enjoyed working retail. It gave me a sense of purpose and I liked helping people. That kind of all died when I worked at Lichtmans in Bayview Village. Worst customers ever! Spoiled rotten brats who treated us like serfs. After that, I was done. It was office work for me. No more jeans. No more t-shirts. REAL work clothes. God, I hated that part. I don't miss that at all.<br />
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Letting the little details go is part of the process of walking one step closer to my future. I honour the memories I had at those jobs and work always felt more like home than home did growing up. It was my escape from home and school and all that bullshit. I got to make a difference, even if it was just cleaning up after disgusting guests or putting CDs in tight little red plastic bags. I did something. I was a part of something. I worked with people and oddly kind of liked it. Until I didn't.<br />
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Until it was time to say good-bye to crappy wages and working with friends and sometimes even family. I left Toronto and have never worked in a place that required name tags ever again.Suzie Ridlerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08603343663483772145noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-412767573408037442.post-60224412587110602202017-11-15T14:15:00.001-04:002017-11-15T14:15:15.394-04:00Preserving Memories, My First Cosplay & Superhero Disillusionment.<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgErJmiBGIPaIUH0bwynvbJ-buNKi-Qu-XgFAgG6zwgi4NjoJMqttBDV8jhMTEQAlqOniw5ZzFZGpXKBc6awfSZwNsyv-WzsaiDne30IjeaRojDmdzxlCjLB1ZP7Tulnpe9Gsmv-RiB_V27/s1600/cosplay171110-01.jpg" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" data-original-height="968" data-original-width="1444" height="428" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgErJmiBGIPaIUH0bwynvbJ-buNKi-Qu-XgFAgG6zwgi4NjoJMqttBDV8jhMTEQAlqOniw5ZzFZGpXKBc6awfSZwNsyv-WzsaiDne30IjeaRojDmdzxlCjLB1ZP7Tulnpe9Gsmv-RiB_V27/s640/cosplay171110-01.jpg" width="640" /></a><br />
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I thought I had lost this newspaper piece during our last move. I am literally going through every single piece of paper and evaluating what to keep and what to let go of.<br />
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Despite this being a daunting and exhausting task, I was thrilled to discover this old newspaper clipping about the costume contest held at the Toronto Exhibition Centre back when I was a kid.<br />
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My mom had this habit of not telling me she signed me up for things ahead of time and just kind of throwing me into them when I was a kid. I have always had social anxiety but she knew how much I would love being in this contest dressed as Wonder Woman. Had I known about it ahead of time, I would never have gone.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEidPaKsgbmOgsGp26QuTEBy426quGMaCQqLpoOShYAbTDUcxhiWYF_B_EoTdHTula3DCgcV3lJ4L1vh-CSJOs6KMUuFyoT3Z2SeznSUjF_pgAfzuCUostRT9r7lx3uYy-57BEEOM9ZUmRi4/s1600/cosplay171110-03.jpg" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="717" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEidPaKsgbmOgsGp26QuTEBy426quGMaCQqLpoOShYAbTDUcxhiWYF_B_EoTdHTula3DCgcV3lJ4L1vh-CSJOs6KMUuFyoT3Z2SeznSUjF_pgAfzuCUostRT9r7lx3uYy-57BEEOM9ZUmRi4/s640/cosplay171110-03.jpg" width="286" /></a><br />
<i><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Me looking completely overwhelmed</span></i><br />
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She made this costume for me for my birthday and I got all the accessories at Christmas. I thought it was just because I loved Wonder Woman so much but nope! She had a plan to get me into this contest. One day I put it on and the next thing I knew I was hanging out with other kids dressed like our favourite superheroes. This of course meant every girl was Wonder Woman. We did not have a lot of choices back then.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj6Zmh-9N322cAKGis0tsA1FgRRtJBOnONiHd1UgEnCBPPHseX0heeEEKTK4rU2BQ_1QkEiCyiSU1niPgPIAXEWh86Qq4KdY5ZacdMqHQCxDrzhvWIwCu8RsBI7pNO59t0xs0I2wln7H0hT/s1600/cosplay171110-02.jpg" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1053" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj6Zmh-9N322cAKGis0tsA1FgRRtJBOnONiHd1UgEnCBPPHseX0heeEEKTK4rU2BQ_1QkEiCyiSU1niPgPIAXEWh86Qq4KdY5ZacdMqHQCxDrzhvWIwCu8RsBI7pNO59t0xs0I2wln7H0hT/s640/cosplay171110-02.jpg" width="420" /></a><br />
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This boy's costume was the absolute winner. I remember looking at him with such admiration at the high quality of the costume. Despite my costume's awesomeness, I knew he was going to win. It was only fair.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJgshwzawfpa7P5p4V_JVsWtMH7CZD3DKGlGYmBehanQvizxrE3s1pruYhzHIXcQxd_BZR9kkp6Nr6myZej732zFbuDfz1544V6HsChcGZg2_XtH_xBOztitkBHFYNe5ziXzhjTMpmivcN/s1600/cosplay171110-04.jpg" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" data-original-height="1024" data-original-width="1600" height="409" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJgshwzawfpa7P5p4V_JVsWtMH7CZD3DKGlGYmBehanQvizxrE3s1pruYhzHIXcQxd_BZR9kkp6Nr6myZej732zFbuDfz1544V6HsChcGZg2_XtH_xBOztitkBHFYNe5ziXzhjTMpmivcN/s640/cosplay171110-04.jpg" width="640" /></a><br />
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When I found out that THE Batman and Robin were going to be there as judges (Adam West and Burt Ward) I gotta admit, I got lightheaded. Although that might have been due to the overwhelmingly searing lights that were beating what felt like laser beams onto our heads. I remember walking down the runway so excited that they were actually there. My HEROES!!!<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi6FMN7rxPxnTK3k-GWt463o2hSE7ULhxxSgSpp_ncUvtzk-8b24fYcIycCMr0zmU6Hk1LFIDexMwVNjS7TRuwQeylBSAMt8ZR7YfIIF4SwsxUsPIhWED4t4nc028IlVfN79dTSLFv7ykau/s1600/cosplay171110-05.jpg" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" data-original-height="1153" data-original-width="1279" height="577" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi6FMN7rxPxnTK3k-GWt463o2hSE7ULhxxSgSpp_ncUvtzk-8b24fYcIycCMr0zmU6Hk1LFIDexMwVNjS7TRuwQeylBSAMt8ZR7YfIIF4SwsxUsPIhWED4t4nc028IlVfN79dTSLFv7ykau/s640/cosplay171110-05.jpg" width="640" /></a><br />
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You know what ended up happening? Those two bastards only voted for kids dressed up as Batman and Robin to win. So that boy dressed as Spiderman had zero chance even though he deserved and absolutely no girls would be winners at all. All of a sudden my heroes turned into villains. I was DEVASTATED.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-4pyqUW-REQ_j1jqa4YY6rnm11DLMP8yZvIR1FExRlnjAs2WUallUgxRLctMmzyaCb9QA8ULbsf-P4LmCNj0fKGFILSLZDOXzDvFFco4o_wlHDJGKQnPAXw2AJHHJDLm5rpN6cty4A7HR/s1600/18951446_10155345931348480_6961235759079971722_n.jpg" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" data-original-height="960" data-original-width="679" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-4pyqUW-REQ_j1jqa4YY6rnm11DLMP8yZvIR1FExRlnjAs2WUallUgxRLctMmzyaCb9QA8ULbsf-P4LmCNj0fKGFILSLZDOXzDvFFco4o_wlHDJGKQnPAXw2AJHHJDLm5rpN6cty4A7HR/s640/18951446_10155345931348480_6961235759079971722_n.jpg" width="453" /></a><br />
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My disillusionment never faded. I often think of that as my feminist birthday. Somewhere my dad has a photo of me after the contest dressed up as Wonder Woman with my Lasso of Truth in the air and murderous rage on my face.<br />
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I did finally take out this autograph photo of Adam West and hang it in my crafts room just last year, a few months before he died. I tried to make peace with their ego-mania and see the hero in them again.<br />
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It <i>was</i> one of the coolest experiences of my childhood. I am thankful my mom did these crazy things to help get me "out there" and out of my head and the house to have a REAL life. Even when it ended up with me wanting to kick heroes in the head.Suzie Ridlerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08603343663483772145noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-412767573408037442.post-62356141804900230922017-11-04T14:42:00.002-03:002017-11-04T14:42:14.191-03:00BB Bombshell's New Location<a data-flickr-embed="true" href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/suzieridler/37456936704/in/dateposted/" title="BB Bombshell's New Location"><img alt="BB Bombshell's New Location" height="427" src="https://farm5.staticflickr.com/4484/37456936704_4810488fa2_z.jpg" width="640" /></a><script async="" charset="utf-8" src="//embedr.flickr.com/assets/client-code.js"></script><br />
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<a href="http://www.suziethefoodie.com/16th-wedding-anniversary-tour-vancouver/">I wrote about BB Bombshell last year when Reg and I got our haircuts for our anniversary</a>. Since then they have moved to 708 Columbia Street in New Westminster.<br />
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At first I was upset because I could not go for pierogies afterwards at <a href="http://iwonapierogies.ca/">Iwona's Pierogies</a> but the cool part is I can take the Skytrain and go on my own.<br />
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Their new digs have vaulted ceilings and is a tad more chi-chi.<br />
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Exposed brick, wood floors... Wow!<br />
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But do not worry, the place is still very geeky and when I was greeted it was so nice that not only did someone recognized my Totoro that I wear on my jacket, they were excited about it.<br />
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Normally when I have to get my haircut I feel like I need a few therapy sessions before and after. I hate anything that is fashion-oriented so for me, <a href="http://www.bbombshellsalon.com/">BB Bombshell</a> is such a delight. I actually feel very much at home and comfortable because I much prefer the world where geek is chic.<br />
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Such a relief when you find a place that feels like home. No therapy required.Suzie Ridlerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08603343663483772145noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-412767573408037442.post-55036099620741948142017-11-01T13:36:00.001-03:002017-11-01T13:36:24.309-03:00Halloween 2017 <a data-flickr-embed="true" href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/suzieridler/26315420559/in/dateposted/" title="Halloween 2017"><img alt="Halloween 2017" height="640" src="https://farm5.staticflickr.com/4451/26315420559_a82a85f0e9_z.jpg" width="435" /></a><script async="" charset="utf-8" src="//embedr.flickr.com/assets/client-code.js"></script><br />
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It is a bit of a bittersweet Halloween this year, knowing it is the last in this apartment but we made the most of it.<br />
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Reg had to work and I was at the acupuncturist during the day so I ran home to clean out the pumpkins and I even carved this one! Normally that is Reg's job but we always have to make sure there is a jack-o-lantern scaring away the bad mojo no matter what.<br />
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We had the most stunning autumn day and night this year, I thought for sure we would be hounded by mobs of kids.<br />
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Oddly what happened as a result of there being no threat of rain... Kids did not come out until AFTER dark!<br />
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There were a lot of newborns with excited parents that showed up. It was quite adorable.<br />
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We had full-size chocolate bars for teens but it was mostly the super young and cute that came out trick or treating.<br />
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Our crazy next door neighbour who clearly loathes Halloween was out using his obnoxiously loud leaf blower which I am sure did not help attract kids. Thankfully he could only do that so long! We will not miss living next to that guy.<br />
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When the sun fell they all came out for candy! True to Vancouver form, the fireworks were nonstop! I was outside lighting the tea lights when one went off not 10 feet from me, hurting my eardrum and making me jump out of my skin.<br />
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So I definitely got my own Halloween scare, sadly, not the kind that I wanted. Before the trick or treating died down we re-watched <a href="http://www.imdb.com/title/tt3416742/">What We Do In The Shadows</a> which is so brilliant and totally funny.<br />
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After 9:30 things got real quiet and I dove into the chocolate and we watched <a href="http://www.imdb.com/title/tt4118606/">The Curse of Sleeping Beauty</a> which was so very good and terrible at the same time. A good choice for Halloween.<br />
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This may be the last time we give out candy at Halloween for a while so I am glad that it was a good year with a great (albeit late) turnout. Now, life goes back to "normal" and reality is coming for me. It was nice to escape it for a while.Suzie Ridlerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08603343663483772145noreply@blogger.com12tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-412767573408037442.post-72295308380347274192017-10-27T14:41:00.001-03:002017-10-27T14:41:24.870-03:00IT & Stranger Things & Plummeting Into Nostalgia<a data-flickr-embed="true" href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/suzieridler/37970018941/in/dateposted/" title="IT & Stranger Things & Plummeting Into Nostalgia"><img alt="IT & Stranger Things & Plummeting Into Nostalgia" height="640" src="https://farm5.staticflickr.com/4494/37970018941_ccb80b278e_z.jpg" width="640" /></a><script async="" charset="utf-8" src="//embedr.flickr.com/assets/client-code.js"></script><br />
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<i>Please note there are potential spoilers ahead so proceed fully cautioned and warned!</i><br />
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Reg and I finally got to see <a href="http://www.imdb.com/title/tt1396484/">IT</a>. With his busy schedule it took a while to find the time but we did and I am so glad. I read this massive book on the bus to my job at Music World and on my lunch breaks for an entire summer. I was completely submerged into this world of Stephen King's and fell in love with all the characters.<br />
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I mean it. I remember finishing the book and crying my eyes out because I would not be allowed to hang out with them anymore. I have missed them deeply since so to be able to experience them once more in this horrific world, was oddly a bit of a dream come true.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhL4bGHlNxjqS9SJj-k_Vr3xDriN9dZvidNCFAVcDtrStGsydKo-0rgXgQeM_eqT4Igqb1g4Hh-9M-6QJaFkencpxehtaTsYxSRT9tedseQdiW28-olAT1ZQGhZ6eWznL_GHD5GjAON2HUY/s1600/unnamed.jpg" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" data-original-height="720" data-original-width="1280" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhL4bGHlNxjqS9SJj-k_Vr3xDriN9dZvidNCFAVcDtrStGsydKo-0rgXgQeM_eqT4Igqb1g4Hh-9M-6QJaFkencpxehtaTsYxSRT9tedseQdiW28-olAT1ZQGhZ6eWznL_GHD5GjAON2HUY/s640/unnamed.jpg" width="640" /></a><br />
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I experienced something while watching IT that reminded me of that feeling of nostalgia from watching <a href="http://www.imdb.com/title/tt4574334/">Stranger Things</a>. It went beyond recognition of a world that I recognized that no longer exists. It revealed just how much freedom we had as children growing up that is now completely gone for this younger generation.<br />
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I was a wild child growing up. I would just take off all day and come home at dinner time. I sometimes had kids to play with but a lot of the time I was completely alone. There was a lot of power in having that experience and I bet kids with helicopter parents these day must feel a complete sense of culture shock while watching the movie or the TV show.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiXmYQqWYNYGHI4XVGscNwdhoX0PJA10Ekzp4LxTyLTODwxdq8QotPpUXmgIFg0FFVJVIBFY6Ld3S6GGCpkLNHYWuy5Ewa8u6Gj2q46Yh37ws94GSSpZrthftZ-Do7zvknE_E5PW4Znq9ee/s1600/1974+Suzie+in+Our+Yard+%25283%2529.jpg" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1105" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiXmYQqWYNYGHI4XVGscNwdhoX0PJA10Ekzp4LxTyLTODwxdq8QotPpUXmgIFg0FFVJVIBFY6Ld3S6GGCpkLNHYWuy5Ewa8u6Gj2q46Yh37ws94GSSpZrthftZ-Do7zvknE_E5PW4Znq9ee/s640/1974+Suzie+in+Our+Yard+%25283%2529.jpg" width="442" /></a><br />
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That said, IT did not back away from the dangers of life back then. It shed light on the predatory nature of human beings, not just of supernatural clowns. I felt it the entire time I grew up and was either terrified or hateful of the human race most of the time. I saw danger everywhere and it was real. Girls were raped and even murdered in my neighbourhood. It happened.<br />
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I was worried that the film IT would mostly be about the paranormal horror and not remember the chronically odd and disturbing yet charming place of Derry but it did. It stayed true to the book (for the most part, I actually agree with the changes it made) and to the characters who I once again connected to for a little while.<br />
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Yes, it is good that parents are more protective of children so that they do not easily and accidentally tumble into danger but I would never give up the adventurous life I had as a kid. Despite some truly awful things that happened to me and being scared and wary at every turn, I had freedom. I roamed. Like the kids in Stranger Things I knew what it was like to just get up on my bike and go without being beholden to anyone. I did what I wanted, when I wanted it.<br />
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Lucky for me, Pennywise never found me.Suzie Ridlerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08603343663483772145noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-412767573408037442.post-49379803638398921422017-10-19T14:34:00.001-03:002017-10-19T16:53:36.484-03:00The Truth About Vancouver's Laneway Homes<a data-flickr-embed="true" href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/suzieridler/37764532442/in/dateposted/" title="The Truth About Vancouver's Laneway Homes"><img alt="The Truth About Vancouver's Laneway Homes" height="360" src="https://farm5.staticflickr.com/4511/37764532442_569971981a_z.jpg" width="640" /></a><script async="" charset="utf-8" src="//embedr.flickr.com/assets/client-code.js"></script><br />
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Reg and I have to move and it sucks. We have a few months to downsize and then we have to move and in Vancouver, that is one hell of a challenge.<br />
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All over the city you see laneway homes going up. I had this romantic notion of what it would be like to live in one of these houses.<br />
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It got even more romantic after looking at this dark and probably illegal dungeon of an apartment in Vancouver that had a lineup of people to see it. I fell into a deep depression after I realized we would be "lucky" to find a place like this to live.<br />
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<a data-flickr-embed="true" href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/suzieridler/37796414791/in/dateposted/" title="The Truth About Vancouver's Laneway Homes"><img alt="The Truth About Vancouver's Laneway Homes" height="360" src="https://farm5.staticflickr.com/4479/37796414791_1c097f48fd_z.jpg" width="640" /></a><script async="" charset="utf-8" src="//embedr.flickr.com/assets/client-code.js"></script><br />
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Ironically when we were out to see an apartment, the same home owner was also trying to rent his laneway home. As a result, we had a chance to check one out!<br />
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I know that in the next move we are going to lose most of the furniture we spent years investing in but what I did not realize is that to live in a laneway home you would also be giving up not just closet space for a crawl space...<br />
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Thanks to those slanting ceilings if your bed has a head board or your dresser has a mirror you would be screwed.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgDT4CQS19JCtNzt8karZBnYQXRZbDF8IS64BJuB0U_tzMdmUpJKJJzNs3azCvnQfoOcL7nCnGuHIlKyNwv-hPBektxpFqtJ4JoLGWN6nJAfopDcdoyw29Uz8-gu_QOiY-4x-4RZJf65DGm/s1600/IMG_6605.jpg" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" data-original-height="900" data-original-width="1600" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgDT4CQS19JCtNzt8karZBnYQXRZbDF8IS64BJuB0U_tzMdmUpJKJJzNs3azCvnQfoOcL7nCnGuHIlKyNwv-hPBektxpFqtJ4JoLGWN6nJAfopDcdoyw29Uz8-gu_QOiY-4x-4RZJf65DGm/s640/IMG_6605.jpg" width="640" /></a><br />
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We would literally have to give up everything we owned to make it work and then buy furniture that would hopefully fit. This is true micro-living.<br />
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The deciding factor for me was the fact that half the main floor would be taken up because it was the home owner's garage! The idea that those fumes would be encased in the same tiny space I would be in made it an absolute no for me. Also, this unit cost $1700 a month!<br />
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<a data-flickr-embed="true" href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/suzieridler/37086866184/in/dateposted/" title="The Truth About Vancouver's Laneway Homes"><img alt="The Truth About Vancouver's Laneway Homes" height="640" src="https://farm5.staticflickr.com/4459/37086866184_db59e46b33_z.jpg" width="640" /></a><script async="" charset="utf-8" src="//embedr.flickr.com/assets/client-code.js"></script><br />
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Now not all laneway homes will have garages in them but I did some research around my neighbourhood and sure enough...<br />
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Yup. The owner's car would take up a huge part of this home's main floor. The place we looked at may have had two tiny upstairs bedrooms but other than the bathroom and kitchen downstairs, there was no living space. The eat-in kitchen was it.<br />
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Apartment hunting in Vancouver is hell. There is no other way to describe it and as beautiful as these homes look, I really do not believe they are worth the money unless you have just moved here and own no furniture yet. And still, those fumes worry me. I find that to be a safety issue that pushes laneway home living off the rental scale for me.Suzie Ridlerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08603343663483772145noreply@blogger.com14tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-412767573408037442.post-13729540691264115872017-10-11T02:37:00.002-03:002017-10-11T02:37:08.840-03:00We Met Bruce Campbell!!!<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiHEuZa-82Xe3G-WGJtMP9t9CLyrNMAG91GHHo-RwXAblFj3q4pKzRKQuRSW8iqSpGuBe1i1V0f44LmY_h-b2dLgi2v3HyygElGKbZHszcEB0h6yym2-GGhyphenhyphenRf3Yu1Vndp_NmR6Edw2_2mD/s1600/bruce171009-01.jpg" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" data-original-height="861" data-original-width="1246" height="442" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiHEuZa-82Xe3G-WGJtMP9t9CLyrNMAG91GHHo-RwXAblFj3q4pKzRKQuRSW8iqSpGuBe1i1V0f44LmY_h-b2dLgi2v3HyygElGKbZHszcEB0h6yym2-GGhyphenhyphenRf3Yu1Vndp_NmR6Edw2_2mD/s640/bruce171009-01.jpg" width="640" /></a><br />
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It is not often I get up on a holiday to go to Chapters to buy a book to guarantee that I am going to be a part of, well, anything. Not a morning person. But when it is <a href="https://www.bruce-campbell.com/">Bruce Campbell</a>? I said hell ya and off we went.<br />
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He did a public signing of his new book <a href="https://www.chapters.indigo.ca/en-ca/books/if-chins-could-kill-confessions/9780312291457-item.html?mkwid=s_dc&pcrid=197328790699&pkw&pmt=b&s_campaign=goo-DSA+Books+Best+Sellers&gclid=Cj0KEQjw3_HOBRDa7NbDqdudqMEBEiQAvLBboh-a4iBIqWOgy7HL67Co2T_whe4D5V-rhqI5JqtlclQaAuYM8P8HAQ">Confessions Of A B Movie Actor</a> as well doing autographs of said book at Chapters in Metropolis on Thanksgiving Monday night. Only us hard core horror fans with no family plans were there.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjmwA7r8_1cAW9fgs4sCmLrr6KB4qQFtXCaUmFT2m_AIyu-Jy5xYai17Np0rmfYdQZPONVuZYaXv_-q4Q0FCtJT0wn8Yes8dgiJTxzbJxb5zfN6WTjYY2_6tTyECoHvFhMj1mgiXQymRkyN/s1600/bruce171009-02.jpg" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" data-original-height="924" data-original-width="759" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjmwA7r8_1cAW9fgs4sCmLrr6KB4qQFtXCaUmFT2m_AIyu-Jy5xYai17Np0rmfYdQZPONVuZYaXv_-q4Q0FCtJT0wn8Yes8dgiJTxzbJxb5zfN6WTjYY2_6tTyECoHvFhMj1mgiXQymRkyN/s640/bruce171009-02.jpg" width="526" /></a><br />
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From <i><a href="http://www.sonypictures.com/movies/evildead/">The Evil Dead</a> </i>to <a href="http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0810788/"><i>Burn Notice</i></a>, we have loved everything Bruce has made. He was truly brave to create <i><a href="http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0489235/?ref_=fn_al_tt_1">My Name Is Bruce</a>,</i> probably one of the least flattering movies a person could have made about themselves. Which is pretty damn awesome.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh79DCFB-QVf3TuhbvC8SuqxNmq2wAHXWJOIqu39RS3KIVDIzdHoJNXuEIuXLfdTzEXU0tm-4iLZiu1lU33jjr1g2LWkwLdgaGgik65qCjmsDL03CQZ4X5y5vNc61A7r3nRJ3D09HEFqH0u/s1600/brucecampbell171009-02.jpg" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" data-original-height="937" data-original-width="1490" height="402" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh79DCFB-QVf3TuhbvC8SuqxNmq2wAHXWJOIqu39RS3KIVDIzdHoJNXuEIuXLfdTzEXU0tm-4iLZiu1lU33jjr1g2LWkwLdgaGgik65qCjmsDL03CQZ4X5y5vNc61A7r3nRJ3D09HEFqH0u/s640/brucecampbell171009-02.jpg" width="640" /></a><br />
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It was wonderful to see Reg have a real "moment" with Bruce during the signing and wow, he is just as fanastic as I hoped he would be. How rare is that? He was funny, tough, shocking and more than kind of awesome.<br />
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I love horror but I have a special place in my heard for all things spy. He will always be Chuck Findley to me. A truly geeky bucket list moment.Suzie Ridlerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08603343663483772145noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-412767573408037442.post-65856492447510935742017-10-07T19:19:00.000-03:002017-10-07T19:31:46.481-03:00Mixed Media Art & Zazzle Products<a data-flickr-embed="true" href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/suzieridler/37558006301/in/dateposted/" title="Mixed Medium Art & Zazzle Products"><img alt="Mixed Medium Art & Zazzle Products" height="360" src="https://farm5.staticflickr.com/4501/37558006301_3ac6d275c0_z.jpg" width="640" /></a><script async="" charset="utf-8" src="//embedr.flickr.com/assets/client-code.js"></script><br />
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Here are all the pieces I made in my mixed media class which I absolutely LOVED. During the class it felt like I was learning exponentially.<br />
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<a data-flickr-embed="true" href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/suzieridler/23705913818/in/dateposted/" title="Mixed Medium Art & Zazzle Products"><img alt="Mixed Medium Art & Zazzle Products" height="392" src="https://farm5.staticflickr.com/4443/23705913818_b9d614525f_z.jpg" width="640" /></a><script async="" charset="utf-8" src="//embedr.flickr.com/assets/client-code.js"></script><br />
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I decided to use some of my favourite pieces for my future foodie book and thought, why not also use them for making products with?<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgRWB1hJN58orCxhwvEWSWHA6RxcgWWqw1hRzziTaV5CKUpSQkGey8l7KMWFtN7SBcfNx_ojv-IWbJfQpwTBDSAPThLLU21e-9CohYJTqlGjbeb5Wv4fYf8g6q59UDYa2ze7KfJoVnwfVAk/s1600/skull+mixed+media170710-02.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1483" data-original-width="1080" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgRWB1hJN58orCxhwvEWSWHA6RxcgWWqw1hRzziTaV5CKUpSQkGey8l7KMWFtN7SBcfNx_ojv-IWbJfQpwTBDSAPThLLU21e-9CohYJTqlGjbeb5Wv4fYf8g6q59UDYa2ze7KfJoVnwfVAk/s640/skull+mixed+media170710-02.jpg" width="465" /></a></div>
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<a href="https://www.zazzle.ca/suziethefoodie">I created a store on Zazzle</a> and uploaded high quality photographs of this final piece to use on items offered through Zazzle.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjzc45UUdeRGdG1aNPcQxsQV2aBoCpmISzewWVXvSzTEujYWXGNdDAE_tfr0Ogrg7e5ROrdbx4DQylnBBIUN0qzGm8tqquXvLRvJ3guvt2x3o-m2aQNWQgzRLU-ef7_bsxx3U2zL7zjXQPZ/s1600/Screen+Shot+2017-10-07+at+2.59.37+PM.png.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="251" data-original-width="748" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjzc45UUdeRGdG1aNPcQxsQV2aBoCpmISzewWVXvSzTEujYWXGNdDAE_tfr0Ogrg7e5ROrdbx4DQylnBBIUN0qzGm8tqquXvLRvJ3guvt2x3o-m2aQNWQgzRLU-ef7_bsxx3U2zL7zjXQPZ/s1600/Screen+Shot+2017-10-07+at+2.59.37+PM.png.jpg" /></a></div>
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I choose to make a <a href="https://www.zazzle.ca/spooky_gothic_skulls_art_halloween_postcard-239561431391285514">Halloween postcard</a>, a <a href="https://www.zazzle.ca/spooky_foodie_mug_w_gothic_skull_mixed_media_art-168729581335179871">#Spookyfoodie mug</a> that has the graphic on the other side (more to come on that later), a <a href="https://www.zazzle.ca/spooky_gothic_skull_mixed_media_art_phone_case-179403841830309726">cell phone case</a> and....<br />
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<a href="https://www.zazzle.ca/spooky_gothic_skull_mixed_media_art_leggings-256832467007054805"><img border="0" data-original-height="610" data-original-width="410" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgx-lx7k91ppH0DkpG-PFEbvfcD4UqrzWM-uBlb27b407iruB9y1SIYqOTV7xWxs4UtXSXTkCqpzNHLc6-ZdXz8oSjQGlttPOLF05YlGmJRJ18Wsto55oZ11p9kajQV1fuTC74tpYJs1R1c/s640/Skull+Tights.jpg" width="430" /></a></div>
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Check it out! You can apply artwork to tights! So <a href="https://www.zazzle.ca/spooky_gothic_skull_mixed_media_art_leggings-256832467007054805">I made these gothic skull tights,</a> perfect for the fall (or if you are like me you wear all-things-skull-all-the-time).<br />
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What is cool about <a href="https://www.zazzle.ca/suziethefoodie/products">Zazzle</a> is you set your commission which is then added to the product price. They take care of creating the product and sending it out to the customer. You provide the design, they do all the work for you and you get a cut in the sale. It costs nothing to make a store or put your products up online to sell. Totally free!<br />
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It takes around 24 hours for products to show up in the store so do not panic if they are not there right away. What a cool way for people who make art to make a bit of a profit from what they have to offer.Suzie Ridlerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08603343663483772145noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-412767573408037442.post-5712257709974442512017-09-23T13:53:00.000-03:002017-09-23T16:35:46.814-03:00The Change Of Seasons Is Here<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhch3svYsajC6M5MyaE9pJK56vUy-o7fxcDLBRI9AqjmDfzOS8g2RJGsvpBh1gMLoSnCiiPzz-KX8s-iDE5b-KbwJw5x55cDy8EC1GQBjWulUg-hLavcWy5CaFwN3Cbao9MHSOC2NFtNPc3/s1600/lanterns170922-01.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1023" data-original-width="897" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhch3svYsajC6M5MyaE9pJK56vUy-o7fxcDLBRI9AqjmDfzOS8g2RJGsvpBh1gMLoSnCiiPzz-KX8s-iDE5b-KbwJw5x55cDy8EC1GQBjWulUg-hLavcWy5CaFwN3Cbao9MHSOC2NFtNPc3/s640/lanterns170922-01.jpg" width="561" /></a></div>
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I know the rest of Canada is still pretty piping hot but on the west coast it has gotten quite chilly. I have even had to consider turning on the heat but the miser in me just won't yet. Refuses to spend the money and admit that winter is coming, damn it.<br />
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Until then though I marvel at nature and know the world is about to get more colourful. We do not have the marvellous and dramatic colour changes Ontario and the East Coast get but we have our moments like these Chinese Lantern Flowers that I have adored since I was a kid. They whisper that Halloween is coming!!!<br />
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This weekend is Hal-Con and despite my complicated relationship with the East Coast I get quite homesick during this event. It was one of the few times in my life I felt like I fit in somewhere, completely naturally. Organically. The geek's world is my world.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg8xvlG9agoyfhvCsF9zkFBO7l2r4iA43TuGDAlAj0NIBYFMMM0HgftS2z8bqf6uOv9JviMcxAebM5hWvDu9irA8BwcbziMypwskGZDRHaagX1Z3n-4JpYygVuAk4Vu-qzlhbyYai9NbWpb/s1600/DKbqwl9XkAE94ri.jpg-large.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="602" data-original-width="602" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg8xvlG9agoyfhvCsF9zkFBO7l2r4iA43TuGDAlAj0NIBYFMMM0HgftS2z8bqf6uOv9JviMcxAebM5hWvDu9irA8BwcbziMypwskGZDRHaagX1Z3n-4JpYygVuAk4Vu-qzlhbyYai9NbWpb/s400/DKbqwl9XkAE94ri.jpg-large.jpeg" width="400" /></a></div>
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I wish I could say that I fit in here on the west coast but there is a lot about me that keeps me separate from the culture here (non-Mom, non-vegan, gluten-loving foodie heretic) but I have the studio. The studio keeps me sane and people are always kind and thoughtful.<br />
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My spooky time is coming and despite being angry that I am cold I do look forward to the wussy Vancouver falling leaves that definitely go out with more of a whimper than a colourful bang. Soon the mist will arrive, the rain will be relentless and I can leave the house without sunscreen.<br />
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Bring on the pumpkins, the fireworks and the winds of change. This Tower knows it is time to be struck by lightening and relents fearlessly. Everything is going to fall down.Suzie Ridlerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08603343663483772145noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-412767573408037442.post-15947400543087211852017-09-16T20:30:00.000-03:002017-09-16T20:30:10.844-03:00Mermaid Jewelry Etsy Launch & Inspiration<a href="https://www.etsy.com/ca/listing/555710757/handmade-high-priestess-mermaid-rustic?ref=shop_home_active_2"><img alt="2017 High Tea Gypsy Mermaid Jewelry Collection" height="640" src="https://farm5.staticflickr.com/4340/37191328435_59d72fc1d5_z.jpg" width="466" /></a><script async="" charset="utf-8" src="//embedr.flickr.com/assets/client-code.js"></script><br />
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<a href="https://www.etsy.com/ca/shop/HighTeaGypsyBoutique">My 2017 Mermaid Jewelry Collection launch on Etsy</a> has happened! In the first 48 hours I sold 7 pendants and there were only 11! I still have lots of earrings for sale but that's OK. Etsy now lets you have inventory for quite a few months. I am currently working on my Fall Earth Goddess collection and those earrings will go great with those pendants too.<br />
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<h2>The Inspiration</h2><a data-flickr-embed="true" href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/suzieridler/36354468214/in/dateposted/" title="2017 High Tea Gypsy Mermaid Jewelry Collection"><img alt="2017 High Tea Gypsy Mermaid Jewelry Collection" height="640" src="https://farm5.staticflickr.com/4437/36354468214_1ab1017830_z.jpg" width="427" /></a><script async="" charset="utf-8" src="//embedr.flickr.com/assets/client-code.js"></script><br />
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So why mermaids? I have always been fascinated with them. I think it all started when we went to Florida when I was a little girl and my family went to Florida. There was a restaurant with large portal windows to what looked like the ocean.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjigOffvdaMKaPtvD69srstGqlX7ZFRQEIXBx3Bq7aPj7whfR6fDl_vmvavwb_grAYujGb9wVGNLisdauCnNV6fugogays0Oe9gXut1NRapHCTZdHUWfnv-Rxo7Wh-NaoaEoA4i5BZt9mzs/s1600/1975+12+Florida+Disneyworld+Suzie.jpg" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1085" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjigOffvdaMKaPtvD69srstGqlX7ZFRQEIXBx3Bq7aPj7whfR6fDl_vmvavwb_grAYujGb9wVGNLisdauCnNV6fugogays0Oe9gXut1NRapHCTZdHUWfnv-Rxo7Wh-NaoaEoA4i5BZt9mzs/s640/1975+12+Florida+Disneyworld+Suzie.jpg" width="434" /></a><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"></div><i><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: x-small;">Photo courtesy Inta Ridler</span></i><br />
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There you would see women dressed as mermaids underwater hiding their breathing tubes until they needed a breath. They were just there for you to admire their feminine beauty and it was so magical. I really wanted to believe they were REAL mermaids.<br />
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Being a complete and total tomboy, it was the first time I saw women as goddesses. They fascinated me. From that moment on I would always try and swim like a mermaid when I was in the water. They are with me, always.<br />
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<h3>Making The Pendants</h3><a data-flickr-embed="true" href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/suzieridler/37078715076/in/dateposted/" title="Inspiration for Jewelry Making"><img alt="Inspiration for Jewelry Making" height="640" src="https://farm5.staticflickr.com/4391/37078715076_9587f540fe_z.jpg" width="524" /></a><script async="" charset="utf-8" src="//embedr.flickr.com/assets/client-code.js"></script><br />
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I am very fortunate to be able to go to a studio that allows me to work with clay. Because of my fibromyalgia, I do not get to go as often as I want but when I do, I make the most of my time.<br />
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<a data-flickr-embed="true" href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/suzieridler/37078716956/in/dateposted/" title="Inspiration for Jewelry Making"><img alt="Inspiration for Jewelry Making" height="640" src="https://farm5.staticflickr.com/4369/37078716956_01a5a211c7_z.jpg" width="515" /></a><script async="" charset="utf-8" src="//embedr.flickr.com/assets/client-code.js"></script><br />
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I am always working on all different styles of jewelry and themes. As you can see, this is part of my autumn collection that will be coming up soon. You make the pendants out of clay and then give them a week to dry out. Then you get them fired.<br />
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<a data-flickr-embed="true" href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/suzieridler/36431515944/in/dateposted/" title="Inspiration for Jewelry Making"><img alt="Inspiration for Jewelry Making" height="640" src="https://farm5.staticflickr.com/4426/36431515944_6004b51b00_z.jpg" width="431" /></a><script async="" charset="utf-8" src="//embedr.flickr.com/assets/client-code.js"></script><br />
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From there you add glazes and then fire them again.<br />
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<h3>The Results</h3><a data-flickr-embed="true" href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/suzieridler/36871172040/in/dateposted/" title="Inspiration for Jewelry Making"><img alt="Inspiration for Jewelry Making" height="640" src="https://farm5.staticflickr.com/4433/36871172040_4e9d45ffa7_z.jpg" width="640" /></a><script async="" charset="utf-8" src="//embedr.flickr.com/assets/client-code.js"></script><br />
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They may not look a lot like much at this point but then the fun part happens. You get to add embossing powders, shimmering pigments, glue on pretty little bits and charms...<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg7iF8wlssLm_qBHv6SIo_aqHZnP88TbleWskuyez61uf5AXCYnAGMMZdA1hZoVazJndY7axLeShJ_avqrpgRv4OQz9UYsfkFVG_ER9mhCG8pLnnRJcpacDBUICA0cFk7mKao9GYSXasyRS/s1600/DJ36kXXXUAAzk59.jpg-large.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="720" data-original-width="720" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg7iF8wlssLm_qBHv6SIo_aqHZnP88TbleWskuyez61uf5AXCYnAGMMZdA1hZoVazJndY7axLeShJ_avqrpgRv4OQz9UYsfkFVG_ER9mhCG8pLnnRJcpacDBUICA0cFk7mKao9GYSXasyRS/s400/DJ36kXXXUAAzk59.jpg-large.jpeg" width="400" /></a></div><br />
Suddenly... There is magic! Like discovering a mermaid in the water.<br />
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<a data-flickr-embed="true" href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/suzieridler/37049222591/in/dateposted/" title="2017 High Tea Gypsy Mermaid Jewelry Collection"><img alt="2017 High Tea Gypsy Mermaid Jewelry Collection" height="640" src="https://farm5.staticflickr.com/4360/37049222591_a3714a1809_z.jpg" width="478" /></a><script async="" charset="utf-8" src="//embedr.flickr.com/assets/client-code.js"></script><br />
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What theme is calling you right now?Suzie Ridlerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08603343663483772145noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-412767573408037442.post-91969170199674091142017-09-06T17:23:00.004-03:002017-09-06T17:23:52.939-03:00Blessed September Full Moon<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhiW54xwnmtQzq5aKgi8RzL_JYsYQj73MkHJTfL6MpTjXoR1QISth6A4s-F_pikm56L4aWYDlXA-OkR_OZwHkC8YlT7huViVk7vVBIVWx-zljgMh3BSh6t0QpByA-9DTcA29K_FSnRVIwE9/s1600/Harrison170902-39+copy.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="490" data-original-width="469" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhiW54xwnmtQzq5aKgi8RzL_JYsYQj73MkHJTfL6MpTjXoR1QISth6A4s-F_pikm56L4aWYDlXA-OkR_OZwHkC8YlT7huViVk7vVBIVWx-zljgMh3BSh6t0QpByA-9DTcA29K_FSnRVIwE9/s640/Harrison170902-39+copy.jpg" width="613" /></a></div>
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I took this photograph as we were driving home from Harrison Hot Springs. The moon was waxing and the summer sun beat down on us as we drove with mountains all around us.<br />
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This full moon I ask for two things to come into my life. I ask for joy and for a sense of being back on the right path. You would think after being back home in BC for three years I would feel like I am on the right path but I don't. We have to move and my health has been kind of in jeopardy from the stress. I honestly do not know how we are going to find a new home in the next six months but when we do, I hope it will make us feel like we are going in the right direction. That life will get better and continue to improve.<br />
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Because right now, to be honest, things kind of suck. Big time and we need help.<br />
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So blessed full moon to everyone! May what we need come to us and may what we desire manifest.Suzie Ridlerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08603343663483772145noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-412767573408037442.post-48376771844640549712017-06-27T16:27:00.006-03:002017-06-27T16:27:49.972-03:00The Uncomfortable Truth About Sleep Clinic Studies<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgA58v6IQGuLNrAK88jsLaqHxERQh8z2UikKzCSpc4ZBmGvbmgTP_RgpJO5YpZ_V1AP9tPdfQSHD6uPfENQ9x0jl6tuZbbrWBtnsw_df0Xr5VNVyyLNSSvspZ8a1VNUL4_IpskPxy5pu2fd/s1600/IMG_1113.jpg" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1598" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgA58v6IQGuLNrAK88jsLaqHxERQh8z2UikKzCSpc4ZBmGvbmgTP_RgpJO5YpZ_V1AP9tPdfQSHD6uPfENQ9x0jl6tuZbbrWBtnsw_df0Xr5VNVyyLNSSvspZ8a1VNUL4_IpskPxy5pu2fd/s640/IMG_1113.jpg" width="639" /></a><br />
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Before I wrote about what you need to know when <a href="http://suzieridler.blogspot.ca/2016/07/everything-you-need-to-know-about-going.html">you go into a sleep clinic for an overnight study</a>. I have yet to write about what the results are until now, almost a whole year later.<br />
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Unless you have restless leg syndrome or sleep apnea, there is nothing they can do for you. Which is heartbreaking. The uncomfortable truth is even the experts at the sleep clinics do now know what causes insomnia. They actually told me me this after I went through that hellishly long and difficult night once they got the results.<br />
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My results confirmed that I really do have a sleeping disorder. I can get to level 2 of sleep but I skip levels 3 and 4 and try to get to 5 as quickly as possible and then get thrown back to level 2 sleep super fast. As a result, I do not get restorative sleep.<br />
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I already kind of knew this, considering I have fibromyalgia and have damaged just about every part of my body you can think of. So what next? What do I do now that we have seen how weird my brain responds at night?<br />
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I was told about "Super Sleepers," people who naturally sleep well. The sleep clinic's response to this is I should try and be a super sleeper. They go to bed at the same time, get up at the same time and don't rest during the day. I could feel tears of frustration well up in my exhausted eyes. <i>This</i> is their advice? After being prodded, poked, analyzed, wired, tape ripped off my sensitive skin, electrodes attached to my brain... <i>This</i> is what I need to do to sleep better?<br />
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Total and complete utter BULLSHIT.<br />
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How do I know this? Trying to live that kind of life after I graduated university and entered the working world is what got me into this mess. It totally fucked up my sleep and I just lived without it and my body ripped and tore itself apart.<br />
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The sleep doctor did not believe me. Said that if I lived like this I would sleep better. Deep down, I think doctors believe I am lazy which makes me so mad. I lived a militant working life and that is what destroyed me but no one wants to hear that.<br />
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What I discovered from going to the sleep clinic is they know NOTHING about people who struggle with insomnia and sleeping disorders, other than restless leg syndrome or sleep apnea. Even worse, they are not interested in looking any further into the subject. This shocked me.<br />
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The truth is, you have to listen to your body and figure out what works for you. Go through the supplement regime. Take the medications, see what works, what doesn't. Find your own way and know you are not alone and these so-called healers may not care about you but I do.<br />
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I waited years and years before agreeing to do this study because it was the end of the road for me. There are not many more healing bridges for me to try crossing and I knew if this one fell through, I would be devastated. Fuck, I hate being right about this crap.<br />
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When I need to rest, I rest. When I am ready for bed, I go to bed. When I am ready to get out of bed, I get out of bed. Schedules may work for some healthy sleepers but I am not a healthy sleeper. I never have been. I sleep way better when the pressure is off and I can just be there as long as I need to be.<br />
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I wish that knowing my weird sleeping habit of diving deep and fast into sleep had resulted in some kind of revelation that could provide treatment. Instead, it is an interesting anecdote about my weird brain that has resulted in no practical solution for my sleeping disorder.<br />
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We are complex individuals. Finding ways to calm and heal our spirits so we can sleep appears to be our journey. Know that you are not alone and we can get through this, one sleepless night at a time.<br />
<br />Suzie Ridlerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08603343663483772145noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-412767573408037442.post-28707184828314562972017-06-14T22:00:00.000-03:002017-06-16T13:15:35.949-03:00My Response to 13 Reasons Why<i><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Warning: SPOILERS AHEAD - Do not read if you do not want to find out spoilers about the show</span></i><br />
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I was not going to watch it. I had not heard anything positive about <a href="http://www.imdb.com/title/tt1837492/">13 Reasons Why</a> and that it was terrible what the show had done, so irresponsible... Then a friend of mine on Facebook wrote how grateful she was for the show and how she would have given anything to have watched it when she was a teen girl. Then, I knew, I HAD to watch it.<br />
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The first time I was called a slut I was 11 years old. It was by girls at a Christian camp. Life got much worse from there. It was constant. I was scared all the time not just by what people would call me but what they might potentially do to me. What they wanted to do to me. What they planned on doing to me.<br />
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I convinced myself life would get better. To keep myself safe I did my best to become a ghost and in some ways, completely succeeded. I became a nothing. I barely attended school and lost myself in relationships with boys I hoped would not hurt me. Unlike Hannah, I did not have a home life that was in any way a sanctuary. It was hell for me there too.<br />
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<a data-flickr-embed="true" href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/suzieridler/35294434705/in/dateposted/" title="Retro Me"><img alt="Retro Me" height="289" src="https://c1.staticflickr.com/5/4224/35294434705_df299edd47_z.jpg" width="640" /></a><script async="" charset="utf-8" src="//embedr.flickr.com/assets/client-code.js"></script><br />
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By the time I left high school my loneliness was quite unbearable. Something the show <a href="http://www.imdb.com/title/tt1837492/">13 Reasons Why</a> did an unbelievable job at portraying. The cruelty of kids and the emptiness that is high school was portrayed perfectly. The only thing that has changed is the additional technical torturous edge of cell phone technology. I can not imagine the horror of being a teenage girl today.<br />
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I agree with my friend on Facebook that <a href="http://www.imdb.com/title/tt1837492/">13 Reasons Why</a>, although unbelievably painful and memory-evoking, would have helped me <i>through</i> my adolescence and not bring it to an end. To know that someone out there knows just how despicable and horrible most kids can be would have meant the world to me. I am so tired of kids being idealized when really they can be the cruellest sadists on the planet.<br />
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I never told anyone. I kept it all to myself and hoped that one day I would have friends and someone who loved me exactly as I am. Then, I blacked it from my memory until years later when I was ready to deal with it.<br />
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<a data-flickr-embed="true" href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/suzieridler/34470162264/in/dateposted/" title="13reasons"><img alt="13reasons" height="360" src="https://c1.staticflickr.com/5/4250/34470162264_76a5d55bdc_z.jpg" width="640" /></a><script async="" charset="utf-8" src="//embedr.flickr.com/assets/client-code.js"></script><br />
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Going to my high school reunion a couple of years ago is one of the hardest things I have ever done. 90% of the people there had no idea who I was but there were a few who actually were happy to see me and had been through it all with me from the start.<br />
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I still struggle to be seen. I am still afraid of being a victim of cruelty but now, I show up. I showed up to the reunion and I have shown up to life. I may be very much alone in this little life on the west coast but it is mine. I live my life in my own way with no one else's rules. I stand up to bullies, I tolerate no cruelty and am nobody's victim.<br />
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I survived adolescence and thanks to <a href="http://www.imdb.com/title/tt1837492/">13 Reasons Why</a> have made a little more peace with my past. It confirmed just how hard and soul crushing life can be as a girl and I am proud that I made it to the woman I am. Proud that I did not give in. That I did not let the bastards drag me out of this life.<br />
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