Being vaguely vegan

We recently decided to give up eating meat at home. And milk, eggs and cheese, too.

“What, are you going to hire a personal chef now?” replied a friend, in a tone of near-disgust when we mentioned this to them.

“It’s not that hard to cook healthy vegan meals”, was our reply. And then we laid out some of the reasons we are trying this, environmental sustainability chiefly among our motivations.

More retorts from the friend about our misguided thinking.

You know what? Fine. 

We're doing this at home, just for us, and we’re not asking others to do it too. If you come over for a barbecue, you’re still likely to get meat as we have a freezer with a backlog of the stuff.

That knee-jerk reaction of almost-horror or distaste seems to be common. It’s almost comical, to watch people avert their eyes or grasp at something to say in response to our attempts at going vegan. Sometimes it comes out vaguely insulting (see above) and sometimes the responses feign support: “good for…you guys?”

Look, the reasons really are our own, and we’re not trying to convert you to some new meat-free religion…unless that’s what you want… JOIN US! Mwhahahahaaaaaa!

#JokingNotJoking...? 

We first turned our minds to the idea when we saw some facts about environmental impact of eating meat. Some of it we already knew, but we looked deeper. It’s remarkable. Fact is, animal agriculture is responsible for 18 per cent of greenhouse gas emissions, more than the combined exhaust from all transportation sources put together, globally (13 per cent) FYI, that’s a stat from the United Nations, not just your hemp clothes-wearing uncle with the acre of weed growing in his backyard.

Funnily enough, the reports on animal agriculture practically make energy production look like the new environmentalism (OK not quite true), from land destruction to water usage to off-gassing, etc. the list goes on. but the fact that we focus so much hate on the energy industry and so little on animal agriculture is strange. 

Enough of the stats . Suffice it to say, these are several of our motivations for trying this veganism thing.

So far, our experiment at home has been fun. It’s really switched up our cooking routine, which frankly was growing repetitive and stale. It’s made MY guts feel better for sure. I won’t go into the gory details, but let’s just say that dairy never agreed with me anyway.

The kids have entered into this thing a little more trepidatiously, and fair enough. This is being forced upon them a little bit.  But it's pretty funny to watch. There are regular stink-eye sessions at the dinner table a la Calvin and Hobbes.

‘What IS this?”

“Cheesy stuff!... made from cashews… and... nine other ingredients… try it, you’ll like it!”

Little does our son realize it, but his gravy was recently made from his number one food nemesis: The hated mushroom. And he loved it. Sucker.

On the whole, things are going well. We’ll continue on with a pilot phase for a while, but so far, all signs point to being satisfied, full, healthy, etc. No, I am not wasting away from calcium deficiency. Yes, I get enough iron. Protein? If anything, I need less.

But we really don’t want you to worry. If you’re coming over for a BBQ, we’ll still have something for the grill. If you’re at a restaurant with us, we aren’t going to be those obnoxious people picking apart the menu and complaining that there’s nothing for a vegan to eat. In fact, It’s likely I’ll still eat a proper burger, and the kids will have their pepperoni pizza and mac ‘n’ cheese.

In the end, we will live our lives, you can live yours, and I hope we can still be friends that can look each other in the eye.

Travel tales: Assorted Injuries + the longest day

The Chase family recently had an incredible vacation. Five days in Florida, exploring the mammoth campuses of the Disney World parks. Then, it was down to the British Virgin Islands for another five full days aboard our own catamaran, island hopping at our leisure. 12 of us altogether on this whole adventure. Kids age 2-9, and we all got along!

It was all amazing, as outlined in the videos below! 

But seriously. Let’s be real. No one wants to hear about the picture perfect. They want disaster scenarios. So, here’s as close as we got:

• One finger crushing injury in a hotel door. Six stitches for my son on that front. Hallelujah for good extended health, ‘cause who wants to have to pay for the US medical system?!*
• One MCL injury, adding yet another knee damage story to my sister’s life-long list of leg traumas.**
• One five year-old who melted down so hard it required complete extraction from a Disney park and a return to the hotel for a day, to settle their overloaded sensory system.***

And here: some specifics about one epic day of travel in the middle of it all, with one small piece of luggage that caused big headaches. Read this from the perspective of ‘here’s how to barely make a flight’ despite best intentions.

1          1. When it’s four a.m. and an airline employee tells you a piece of your luggage can be gate-checked (a paddle in a case, in this situation), don’t believe them. Give them your money and check it.

2.   When you’ve been through a 90-minute security line-up and your flight leaves in 20 minutes and ONLY THEN does a TSA agent says you can’t take that paddle on the plane, and you’ll have to go back to the airline counter, don’t argue. It wastes precious seconds. Just nod, accept that you might miss your flight (pro-tip, being nice to the TSA means they might help you through the line when you come back), say goodbye to your family, and run like hell back to the airline counter.

Two years in a row, this same
paddle bag, via the same airport,
has caused me grief. Cursed?  

3.   To try and save your ass, tell the airline counter staff they have an impossible question to figure out in the next 30 seconds:

a.       My paddle needs to be checked. If I, as a passenger MUST travel with my luggage, as per FAA rules, and they choose to put my paddle on the next flight in three hours, then so be it. BUT:

b.       My main luggage is ALREADY under the plane departing in (checks watch) 17 minutes.

c.       I have a connecting flight at the airport, so if I miss THIS flight, I probably miss that one, too. SO, do you as airline staff:

                                                    i. Delay the early morning flight long enough to take my luggage off, missed connections be damned, or

                                                                             ii. Delay the early morning flight long enough to check my fu**ing paddle, and let me run for the plane?

  

     4. When option ii. is accepted, run like Hell again, back to the security zone. Get quick access courtesy of kind TSA agent who had my description and was expecting me.

      5. Sweet talk a few passengers in front of you at this point, to whip through the body scanner. Run like hell again. 

    

      6. Thank Jesus Allah Buddha that the shuttle train from one terminal to the other is arriving just as you run up to the platform.

           7. Run like Hell some more to get to your gate once you get off the train.

      8. Smile sweetly and say thank you to the gate agents when you slide up to the gate at 6:11 a.m. for your 6:11 a.m. departure time.

      9.  Acknowledge your family’s delight and relief to see you stepping on to the same plane as them!

I’ll spare the rest of the details of the day, but:

1. All that rush was for nothing as our next connecting flight was delayed by several hours, much to the delight of the parents in the group who now had to entertain a buncha kids in a boring airport terminal for the interim.  

2. The paddle DID NOT make it to that connecting airport as or where expected, thus forcing yet further arrangements to ensure the paddle was found, and delivered to the next plane.

3. All the waiting around was for a 24-minute flight.

4. Even at the final destination, the paddle didn’t show. A lost baggage claim was filled in at this point, and we said goodbye to airports**** as we headed for our final destination, Tortola, BVI. Flip flops on, feet up, sand, sun, snorkeling, family time. Ahhhhhhhhh.

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*The wrapped up finger turned into an all-access golden ticket for my son and anyone associated with him when he went back to Disney later in the same day.

** The knee issue remains as-yet unresolved, as Universal Health Care doesn’t always move at any sort of speedy pace.

***The five-year-olds’ day at the hotel did her introverted soul a world of good. Smooth sailing for remaining days at Disney.

****Paddle was found, I was reunited with it at said airport one week later. 

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The Disney Vid!! 

The BVI Vid! 

The only way out is down

I have either lost my mind, or my phobic fear of heights.

If you’re laying bets, I’ll give you a hint: it’s the former.

I have signed up to rappel from the roof of the Hyatt Regency Vancouver on July 8^th. If you know me, you know that this isn’t actually my idea of fun. I have VERY few pictures of me in high places. I can offer you a photo of 18 year-old me, standing on the glass floor of Canada’s CN tower, looking terrified / mildly ill, and I have a smattering of photos from behind the windows of tall office towers in and around Vancouver.

In the case of the CN Tower, Kate basically forced me to be there (she will contest this, but it is true).

In the case of the office towers in Vancouver, it’s always been work-related. I wouldn't go to these places 'just because'.

A view from in flight. Planes are safe,
tall buildings are not. Makes sense, right? 

Man-made heights… I just… don’t… like them. The Lion’s Gate bridge in Vancouver terrifies me, though I have used that crossing enough to learn how to control myself. Don't ask me to explain any of it. I love flying, I love rollercoasters...but I hate chairlifts. It's a phobia. The whole point is that it's irrational. 

None the less, the phobia exists. So why… WHY… have I signed up to go OUTSIDE on the roof of a 36-storey building, and go OFF the side of it? Let me pause to wipe the sweat from my brow and check my pulse before I tell you.

*whew*

I’m doing it for the kids, okay? My job at Make-A-Wish BC & Yukon is immensely satisfying. I love everything about it. And, in the course of my work, I have decided to prove my love and commitment by participating in our own fundraiser, the Rope for Hope rappel challenge in support of Make-A-Wish.

I was given various ‘outs’ by my colleagues.

“You know you don’t HAVE to do this, right?” 

Fears be damned. 

In the comparison to kids age 3-17 fighting life-threatening medical conditions, I have zero to be afraid of, nothing to fight against other than my own phobia, and a guaranteed result of arriving safely on sweet, sweet terra firma just a few minutes after I start my journey.

So I can do this. I will do this. I AM doing this.

Probably the ultimate kick in the pants here is that my mother-in-law—30 years my senior—is joining me for a rappel of her own, and is excited beyond belief. She would BASE jump this thing if they let her.  How is it gonna look if I can’t stack up against my own mother-in-law? Major pride on the line now.

Each rappeller is required to raise $1,500 for Make-A-Wish. The BRIGHT side is, if you DON’T get me to my goal, I won’t be able to rappel.  Oh darrrrrn, wouldn’t that be just terrible if I had to stay on the ground?! So maybe this is my way out! If I only raise, like $1499, I won’t be able to go!

*Gulp* 

SO whatever you do, DON’T get me to my goal! I won’t have to live my fear! Yay! However, if you’re just sadistic enough to want to see me tortured through 36 storeys of my own personal hell, by all means, click this link

As an added bonus to all you sickos donating to make me do this, I’ll see about wearing a GoPro or something, so that I can record every terrifying second, and I’ll cut a video to show you what it’s like when I wet myself 600 feet off the ground.

Thank you for spreading Hope, Strength and Joy… in the lives of children in BC and the Yukon living with life-threatening medical conditions, that is. For me, this is torture.  

If YOU think this sounds like fun and want to join in, there are still spaces available! Check out www.ropeforhope.ca to sign up.

The man in the park

Kate walked by the park under the cover of the morning dark with the dog and didn’t see the man. He either wasn’t seen in the dark, or wasn’t there yet. Either way, by the time the kids were heading to school, the body was gone.

In summer, the tall cedars at the park--just up the street from our house--shade the play area from heat, and golden light filters through the trees as kids run around. It’s a popular spot for young families. Throughout the year, neighbours gather in the mornings to practice tai chi and old men sit at the picnic table, smoking (despite bylaws, but this is not a story about the rules), and playing hand after hand of cards.

In winter, though, the playground is mostly gloomy and silent. Vancouver’s weather does that, of course. The equipment is old and weathered, the trees bring a shroud over the whole plot, and on most days families find elsewhere to play.

I’m not sure if the man in the park was drawn to this wintry gloom, or if he somehow saw it as a solitary place, or if he did it as big ‘fuck you, world, you’ll notice me now.” 

I’m not sure if he had any clue about the impact he would have, or perhaps he had a very precise idea. But a few days ago, when that man hanged himself from the playground equipment in our little park, it no longer became his concern, and I guess he was fine with that either way.  

Unfortunately for our friend across the street from the park who saw him hanging there, it became their concern. When Kate saw the police car whizzing by our house at top speed as she readied the kids for school, it became her concern. And the concern of all those others around the park when the police showed up. It has all weighed fairly heavily on my mind. 

“By the time I took the kids to school, [the police] had dealt with it,” said Kate, “but can you imagine if they hadn’t? With all those kids heading past the park on the way to school?”

I am sure it was bad enough for our friend to have witnessed it, they themselves being a gentle soul who will be deeply affected by this. I saw our friend the next morning while I myself walked the dog in the dark and drizzle. I have never seen them outside their house that early, so I can perhaps immediately presume that they are not sleeping well.  But the collateral damage could have been much worse if gaggles of kids had walked by the park and seen that man hanging from their playground equipment. So many more conversations with parents, questions, concerns, fears [editors note: conversations are not a bad thing, though!].

I told my office colleagues about it, just as Kate had told me (as one does in scenarios like these. It seems to help to talk about it). Even in a third degree of separation from the actual events, my colleague, later in the day, said “I am haunted by what you told us.”

There can be no winners in a story like this. Its central player, a tortured soul who chose to snuff out their own life. And all around him, a community of witnesses, either by sight or by word of mouth, who are moved or disturbed by the event. And nothing to be fixed by any of it. The man got what he wanted, I suppose, but whether the effects of it were desired or not, we’ll never know. If only he had gotten better help in his life.

I don’t have any real conclusion to this. I’m sorry a man chose to end it all, and I’m sorry for all the underlying causes that led him to this decision. I’m sorry our friend was witness to his sign-off, though I’m glad more people--more kids, especially--didn’t see it. And I’m also sorry that I’m not sure I’ll ever look at our little playground the same again, with or without dappled sunlight and laughing children.

January 27^th is Bell Let’s Talk day, promoted annually to stir conversation and break the silence and stigma around mental illness. #BellLetsTalk

Hello-Ho-Ho from StuLand

Well, as alluded to in my last blog post, it's Chase Family Annual Video Christmas Card time! 

Yes, the tradition that looks fancy and slickly produced, but is actually just a thin veneer to paste over the fact that we fail to write out honest-to-goodness 'get em in the mail' paper cards. And yes, I can call it an 'annual' video card now, as I think this is at least the third year in a row of producing this! 

Anyway...
From our family to yours: Wherever you are this holiday, and however you celebrate, we wish you the very best of the season, and send along our hopes for a happy new year to all of you.

Enjoy! 

Blessings, 
Stuart, Kate, Sacha, Heidi, and Nino the pooch