My newest project

I have been working with Vagabond Players Society since just before the pandemic hit and I have to tell you that working with this group has been a real treat. I have been able to learn so much at this theatre from running sound and lighting boards, to learning about producing. It has all been there for me to absorb and revel in.

My newest project is one that I have been looking forward to for three years.

 “Laughter on the 23rd Floor” is Neil Simon’s homage to his days as a writer for Sid Caesar’s “Your Show of Shows,” where he worked alongside Mel Brooks, Carl Reiner, Larry Gelbart, and other zanies of television’s Golden Age.

Set in 1953, this Simon play explodes with “colorful” language (“f” bombs), verbal assaults and wicked office pranks.

Warning: Contains mature content and coarse language.

Directed by Miles Lavkulich

To order tickets: Click here

One brief taste of how absolutely hilarious this show is

Hope to see you all there!

Anna

I can’t believe it has been 7 years since you left us. I still think about you almost every day.

below is my eulogy to my sister, my friend, my rock:

So, we are here today to celebrate the life of my sister.  Wow, never thought those words would be coming out of my mouth.

To try and sum up her life in just a few words is impossible, but, I am going to try.

Anna was an intensely private individual.  She rarely showed what was truly going on in her life.  But, when she let you in, you were in her life forever or at least until you pissed her off….

My earliest memories of Anna were when (and I am regaled with this tale by my mother on many an occasion) I was very young.  Apparently, I was angry with everyone at home and decided I was going to run away.  So, Mom packed up a lunch for me, gave me my favourite blanky and my teapot (I have no idea why a teapot, but, what the heck… shades of my future self perhaps?), a fistful of pennies, a sandwich and some kool-aid.  And off I went.  I didn’t wander far, just around the block, as I knew I wasn’t allowed to cross the street.  I eventually came home, but, I am told just for refills….

Anna had to follow me from a discreet distance and make sure that nothing ever happened to me.

That is who my sister was:  She was my protector.

Anna was funny.  When I was 10 or 12 years old, the family went on one of the BHUTAN DEATH MARCH vacations.  You know the type of trip I am talking about?  The trip where the family patriarch gathers kith and kin into the car at the crack of dawn and begins the never-ending journey to wherever it was that we were going at break-neck speed just to see if he could beat the traffic.  You needed a bathroom break?  Hah! We just had a rest when we filled up for gas 5 hours ago.  And you need to go AGAIN?  Hungry?  Eat some beef jerky that we scored at the last gas station.  Carsick?  Meh, just roll down the rear window of the station wagon and let ‘er rip on the car following too close behind (that did actually happen to me).

But, I digress.  We were eventually in Disneyland:  The Magic Kingdom.  The land of eternal joy for kid and adults alike. Unknown to us, it was also the land of pervs dressed in costumes.

Anna, being young and pretty caught the eye of one lecherous looking Goofy.  He proceeded to chase her around the parking wanting a “Hug”.  Anna wanted none of it.  She started darting around people, screaming “Mother” at the top of her lungs all the while Goofy was lurching after her, arms open.  Eventually, she lost him in the crowd and I sat there and laughed, as this was the funniest thing I had ever seen.  She got her revenge on me, though by dragging me on to the Matterhorn.  And thus began my life long fear of amusement park rides.  Thanks, Sis.

Anna was my cohort at family functions.  Case in point:  when my aunt would come to a Zylstra family function, she would often zero in on a family member who had somehow given her a self-perceived slight at some point in time between these visits.  That person would be cornered at some point in the evening and my aunt’s ginsu-sharp tongue would leave her victim in a pile of blubbering mess on the floor.

One year, it was my turn.  

As I walked in the door from my flight from Vancouver, Anna grabbed me, a bottle of Black Tower wine (Yes, black Tower…) and we hid in the basement until my aunt left.  We sat there in the semi-darkness, giggling and passing the wine back and forth daring each other to go and find my aunt.  My aunt would eventually give up and went home.  A major tongue lashing avoided.

Anna was my confidante.  When I was struggling to accept who I was, she was the first family member I talked to.  She merely hugged me and told that it was okay.  She still loved me and nothing would change that.  With that simple statement, I felt like I could breathe.  If Anna could accept me, then everything else in the whole world could suck and I would still be okay.

Anna was the first family member I introduced Alex, my husband to.  Back in June of 2003, we made the treacherous journey from Vancouver to Edmonton to meet the family (insert dramatic music here)… The first person we saw was Anna.  We met for coffee when Anna was still working at West Edmonton Mall.

After a very friendly coffee, I excused myself to go to the bathroom and she looked over at Alex and said with nary a thought, “You’re a couple, aren’t you?”  Alex answered quickly, “Yes” and with that, she hugged him, welcomed him warmly into the Zylstra fold and told him she was “glad that Al had someone in his life, finally.”

When Alex and I decided to get married, Anna was the first family member we told.  She was thrilled for us.  Almost as much as we were.

Anna was smart, funny, brave, considerate and stubborn.  And she could fight the best of us.  When the Zylstra men got into our usual Christmas Eve family gatherings, or as I liked to call them, “the WWE Main Event”, the discussions were frank, loud (really loud) and passionate.  We argued over politics, religion, politics, news, politics, human rights, politics…. Did I mention “Politics”?

When the arguments became too much for Anna, she would call on us to stop being so “REDUNDANT”.  I am not sure if she knew what “redundant” meant.  But, the over-riding thought was for us to stop being juvenile, argumentative and just get along.

Redundant.  A good word and one she used a lot.  The real meaning of the word redundant is:

  1. Characterized by verbosity or unnecessary repetition in expressing ideas.
  2. Being in excess; exceeding what is usual or natural
  3. Having excess or duplicate parts that can continue to perform in the event of malfunction of some of the parts.
  4. Being characterized by redundancy; being predictable.


So, I am going to tell you today in Anna’s words: Don’t be REDUNDANT.

Don’t go through the rest of your life being unnecessarily repetitive.  Say it once and MEAN IT.

Don’t be a duplicate, a copy of everyone else.  Be unique.  Be yourself.

Matter to someone….anyone!

Don’t be predictable.  Shake up your life and make it matter.

Missing my dad

February 2, 2003 – my father passed away after a long bout of emphysema.

I still think about my dad a lot. Our last conversation was Christmas Eve, 2002. He called me out of the blue. After our usual brief conversation about the weather, he came out and point-blank asked me if I was happy. His question blind-sided me. We had NEVER had those types of conversations. After a few pauses (and a lot of “gulps”), I was able to tell him that I was, indeed, happy. He breathed an audible sigh of relief and told me that hearing me say that I was happy was music to his ears….

He was admitted to the Misericordia Hospital in Edmonton about three days before he passed away. I was able to see him the evening before he died. He was in a coma. He looked so frail. My whole family was there when I got to his room. I held his hand and whispered to him that I was there and if he needed to go, he should. I hoped that he heard me. After a few hours, everyone left – my older brother took my mom home – she, herself was recovering from cancer surgery. The last person to leave was my sister, Anna.

She left the hospital just before 11:00 pm. I was staying with my oldest brother and his family (he lives about two blocks form the hospital). We got the call just after midnight that my dad had passed away. I like to think that my dad knew that it was safe for him to go because there was no one there to try to stop him. That was my dad….

It has been a minute….

IRIS in Mexico

While it has been a few months since I posted last, there have been a lot of things that went on… but, this biggest thing was my last minute invitation to join my IRIS family in Mexico. Fairmont Mayakoba, Mexico is located about 45 minutes away from Cancun. An amazing resort with acres and acres of lush greenery, walking paths, canals and so much more. It was a truly magical place

We arrived on Sunday, December 8 in the early evening and had a huge welcome from our IRIS family

The next day, our meetings began.

Day three of the event filled schedule culminated in a Dinner En Blanc on the beach

Before I knew it, it was day four and time to head home. I had an amazing time with my work family and I hope we can do it again.

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When a mage is sharing what's on his mind. Positivity, Motivation, Life, Success, Love, Friend, Smile, Marketing, Writing, Creativity and Good Ideas.

Lapis and Layers

Freshness has no expiry date

Dooryards and Kitchens

Food and stories from from a girl with memories of Maritime dooryards + kitchens.

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Physique, Mindset, Money & More

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This is the story of building a cottage , the people and the place. Its a reminder of hope and love.

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Discover the magical, all natural and organic benefits of Moroccan Argan Oil. Wholesale and retail, imported directly from the growers in Morocco.

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