DIY winter moisturizing masks

February 21, 2020February 20, 2020 / edebock / 2 Comments

Cold, dry winters here on the Canadian prairie are terribly harsh on skin. Awhile ago, my face was beginning to look and feel like parchment! My regular skin care routine simply wasn’t cutting it. I needed more moisture than my daytime lotion and night creme were providing. Being a frugal fashionista (and living where there isn’t a wide array of products to choose from) I looked no further than my kitchen for help!

That’s right! All you need for a do-it-yourself winter moisturizing mask is probably right there in your pantry.

Unpasteurized honey has been used as a beauty treatment since ancient times, but what makes it such a great skincare ingredient? First of all, honey is a humectant, which means that it attracts and retains moisture. It also contains a number of vitamins and minerals, it’s a potent source of antioxidants, and it’s anti-bacterial.

Mediterranean women have also used olive oil as a moisturizer for centuries. Like honey, it’s loaded with nutrients, is a natural humectant, and is rich in antioxidants.

Cleopatra was renowned throughout history for her radiant skin and stunning beauty. Early records show that she added honey to her milk baths to keep her skin smooth and firm. Olive oil and honey facials were also part of her beauty regime. If these things were good enough for Cleopatra, I thought they must be worth a try!

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While either unpasteurized honey or extra virgin olive oil can be used alone, why not try one of these simple recipes for smoother, softer, well hydrated skin?

Exfoliating Mask

When I used this one, my face looked like a glazed doughnut, but it felt wonderful!

1 tablespoon honey
1 teaspoon salt
a few drops of olive oil

Mix ingredients together and apply to clean, wet skin in a circular motion. Avoid eye area. Leave on for about 15 minutes. Rinse thoroughly with warm water and follow up with your favourite moisturizer.

Salt has been used as a healing agent for centuries. It tightens, preserves, and acts as an exfoliant, removing stubborn dead skin cells and allowing new and healthy skin to emerge, but be very gentle with this mask as it is quite abrasive.

Gentle Exfoliating Mask

2 teaspoons honey
1 teaspoon baking soda
a few drops of olive oil

Mix and use as above.

Moisturizing Mask

This one is my favourite! It’s so simple and soothing.

1 to 1.5 teaspoons honey
1 to 1.5 teaspoons olive oil

Mix ingredients. Apply to clean, damp skin. Leave on for 15 to 20 minutes then rinse thoroughly.

There are many more DIY recipes online that include other ingredients from your kitchen such as oatmeal, egg yolk, yogurt, and cinnamon but all you really need for an effective and inexpensive beauty treatment is olive oil and honey. You can use any of these masks weekly as needed. I used the Exfoliating Mask first and followed it with the Moisturizing Mask a week later. That was a couple of weeks ago and my skin is still thanking me!

It’s all about pockets

February 7, 2020February 6, 2020 / edebock / 10 Comments

Have you ever wondered why women carry purses and men don’t? It’s all about pockets… and history.

Pockets as we know them didn’t come into being until the 17th century. Prior to that time, both men and women wore bags tied to their waists or suspended from belts, a bit like modern day fanny packs. As the world became more urban and criminals more sophisticated, people began to hide these “pockets” under layers of clothing to keep their contents safe from pickpockets.

Woman’s “pockets” – mid 1700s – Victoria and Albert Museum, London

In the late 17th century, pockets began to be permanently sewn into men’s coats, waistcoats, and trousers. Women, however, continued to wear bags hidden beneath their dresses. These were often large and beautifully decorated, but terribly inconvenient. The average 17th century woman wore several layers beneath her billowing skirts. Her pockets would be tied around her waist, between her under-petticoat and her petticoat. In order to access their contents, she essentially had to get undressed! She had ample space to carry a wide variety of personal items in her pockets, but she couldn’t get at them in public!

As styles changed and slimmer, body hugging dresses came into fashion, there was no longer space to hide pouchy bags under a woman’s clothing. Instead, they carried tiny decorative handbags known as reticules that could scarcely hold a handkerchief and a coin.

Later came the suffragettes and other feminist radicals who believed that women should have equal political and financial standing with men. With them came pockets for women! “Plenty of Pockets in Suffragette Suit” read a 1910 New York Times headline. The suit, the piece explained, had seven or eight easy to access pockets.

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Fast forward to today. Leggings have no pockets at all and then there are those silly fake pockets in some of my dressier pants. What good is a pocket that isn’t really a pocket at all? Women’s jeans do have pockets, of course, but my husband can easily carry his wallet, keys, some loose change, a comb, some kleenex, and a pocket knife (you can take the boy off the farm, but…) in his jeans pocket while anything larger than a credit card in mine leaves an unsightly and uncomfortable bulge. What’s the difference, you ask? About 4 inches. The front pockets on his jeans are about 7 inches (18 cm) deep while mine are less than half of that! There are women who rail against what they call pocket inequality, but am I willing to give up snug fitting jeans for the convenience of being able to schlep a lot of stuff around in my pockets? Not really. I’ll happily stick to carrying a purse!

What about you? Do you think pocket equality is something women should be fighting for?

The Good Women of China

January 5, 2020January 4, 2020 / edebock / 2 Comments

Do you ever finish reading a book and think that perhaps you should start over and read it again; that there was simply too much to absorb the first time through? The Good Women of China: Hidden Voices was such a book for me, not because it was enjoyable or entertaining, but because it was moving and at the same time very disturbing.

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From 1989 to 1997, the author, Xinran, hosted a radio call-in show, “Words on the Night Breeze” during which she invited Chinese women to speak about their lives. Broadcast every evening, the show became famous throughout the country for its unflinching portrayal of what it meant to be a woman in China. From the hundreds of women who phoned in to share their stories of forced marriages, Communist Party indoctrination, persecution and imprisonment, extreme poverty, shocking cruelty, and incredible endurance, Xinran chose fifteen, including her own, to share in the book which was only written after she left China. “At that time in China, I might have gone to prison for writing a book like this.” she wrote in the closing paragraph.

When we lived in China for a short time a few years ago, I remember how shocked some of my college age students were to learn how old I was. They told me that Chinese women my age looked much older. Knowing that life in China had been hard, I wasn’t completely surprised, but I started looking at the elderly women on the street and in the market more closely. I wondered how much older than me they actually were and what their lives had been like. Until I read The Good Women of China, however, could not have imagined what many them probably endured.

Xinran is six years younger than I am. Many of the women she writes about are my contemporaries. Their stories are powerful, gripping, and anguished accounts of inhumane treatment, sexual exploitation, torture, rape, hunger, and death often at the hands of Chairman Mao’s Red Guards during the Cultural Revolution of 1966 to 1976. All the while, I was going to school, starting my career, getting married, and enjoying a life of freedom completely oblivious to what was going on half a world away.

Later, during the 1990s and early 2000s, I had the privilege of being ESL tutor to an elderly Chinese gentleman. Ling Cong Xin, better known as Sunny Ling to his Canadian friends, came to Canada with his wife in 1987 to live with their daughter and her family. After we had been meeting together for quite some time, I tried to convince him that he ought to record his memories and experiences. At first, he was very reluctant to do so, but eventually he asked if I would help and so began one of the most exciting projects that I have ever had the privilege to be involved in. I recall Sunny speaking with contempt about the soldiers of the Imperial Japanese Army forcing women and girls in occupied territories including China to be their sex slaves or “comfort women” before and during World War II, but he never spoke of Chinese girls being repeatedly raped by their own countrymen during the Cultural Revolution. Sunny was a highly educated man who had at one time been an official in the Nationalist government. During the Cultural Revolution, many of China’s intellectuals were imprisoned or, like Sunny, forced to leave the cities and take menial jobs in the countryside. When we reached this point in his story he began to claim that his memory was failing him and our project came to an end. I believe that reliving the memories simply became more than he could bear. Like Xinran, he also expressed a genuine fear that if some of the things he told me about were ever published, the Chinese government might make life difficult for his relatives who still lived in that country. After reading The Good Women of China, I can’t help wishing that Sunny’s wife had spoken English and that I’d also had the opportunity to hear her story.

“These are stories that must be read. The lives of these anonymous women are so moving that when I finished reading their stories I felt my soul had been altered.” Amy Tan

“Mao said ‘Women hold up half of heaven.’ Sadly, this remarkable book demonstrates that he was wrong. Women in China actually hold up half of hell. Xinran has written the first realistic portrayal of women in China. Read it, and weep.” Jan Wong

Winter at its best

December 30, 2019December 31, 2019 / edebock / 4 Comments

Winter is not my favourite season, but sometimes it’s spectacularly beautiful here on the Canadian prairie.

With a houseful of grandchildren for the past week, we were very thankful for sunshine, mild daytime temperatures, and fresh powdery snow that made outdoor activities not only possible, but a great deal of fun.

With shovels and brooms, a skating rink was cleared on a pond just outside town.

Even the littlest one helped out.

Many hours were spent tobogganing on a hill just three blocks from the house.

By late this morning, most of the family had packed up and left for home. Only our two Vancouver grandsons and their parents remained. If you’ve been following my blog for very long, you may remember how much I enjoy exploring the old abandoned buildings that are scattered across the prairie. Until today, that was a summertime activity, but when I discovered that 8-year-old Nate shares my passion for old abandoned houses, a plan was hatched and off we went to find a few.

Our first stop was an old farmstead a few kilometres from town.

The last time we were there, the old shed was still standing, but not anymore.

When the sun is shining, there’s beauty even in decay.

Next, we walked down the field to check out the old threshing machine in the edge of the trees.

Sharp-eyed Nate spotted this tiny one room house beside the road not far from the old farmstead. I’m sure we’ve driven by it many times without ever noticing it. In the summer it would be completely hidden by leaves on the trees.

A little further down the road we spotted another old house that we’d never noticed before. We had to walk across a snowy field of canola stubble to check it out.

Two stories tall with a cellar below, it would have been quite a place in its day. It’s a very solid structure built of logs overlaid with wooden slats. With doors and windows still intact and shredded curtains hanging in some of the windows, it’s in better shape than many of the old buildings we’ve found. Peeking through the kitchen window we spotted a calendar on the wall dated September 1963. Presumably that’s when it’s last residents moved out. I couldn’t help wondering why they left a sink full of dishes behind! If only these old walls could talk. What stories they would tell!

If winter was always this beautiful and this much fun, I might not mind it so much! The last of the family leaves tomorrow morning though and the forecast is calling for much colder temperatures a week or so from now. We haven’t made any plans for a winter getaway to warmer climes, but it might soon be time to look for a last minute deal!

Corduroy comeback

October 25, 2019October 22, 2019 / edebock / 2 Comments

I still remember my favourite corduroy bell bottoms from the 1970s. They were a warm toffee colour with dark brown patch pockets. Though its roots go back to ancient Egypt, corduroy as we know it today has been around since the late 18th century when it first appeared as factory wear in Manchester, England. It remained a working class fabric for the next hundred years before becoming a popular alternative to denim in the 1960s. While its popularity probably peaked in the 1970s, corduroy has never completely disappeared from the fashion world and it has been making a comeback this fall. Pants, skirts, jackets, and even dresses are showing up in this comfortable, easy care fabric.

The only corduroy garment in my present closet is this pair of tan pants.

Unlike most corduroy, with its characteristic ribs, these are made of uncut corduroy which more closely resembles a very short napped velvet. A traditional five pocket skinny jean style, these cotton pants with just a hint of spandex came from Reitman’s, Canada’s largest womens’ clothing retailer, and are amongst the most comfortable in my closet. The only problem with them is that they’re several years old and beginning to show some wear. Perhaps this season would be a good time to find a replacement. Similar pair here.

I’m wearing the cords with the Wonder Tee from cabi’s Fall 2019 Collection. You’ve seen the ultra light down vest from Uniqlo here and here and the gold sneakers that I wore all over Europe in May here.

Because you can

October 12, 2019 / edebock / 4 Comments

We’re nearing the end of another federal election campaign here in Canada. Monday, October 21 is election day, but since we’ll be far from home that day, we plan to vote in the advanced polls tomorrow. That will be Thanksgiving Sunday here in Canada which I think is quite appropriate. I’m very thankful that I live in a democratic country where I have the right, the responsibility, and the privilege to vote.

Sadly, many people don’t seem to feel that way. Voter turnout for the October 2015 federal election was 68.5%, a significant increase from 61.1% in the previous election. In my opinion, that’s still quite disgraceful. What is the matter with people? Why does 30 to 40% of our population fail to cast a ballot? Are we Canadians really that apathetic?

I will vote, if for no other reason than because I can. It’s a privilege that I don’t take lightly. Women before my time fought long and hard so that I could exercise this right. Women like Nellie McClung, well-known advocate and popular speaker on the subject of women’s suffrage in the early 1900s, who said “Our worthy opponents will emphasize the fact that women are the weaker vessel. Well I should think that a woman who cooks for men, washes and bakes and scrubs and sews for her family could stand the extra strain of marking a ballot every four years.”

The United States began allowing women to vote in 1920, after the ratification of the 19th Amendment to their Constitution. Here in Canada, many women voted for the first time the following year, but it wasn’t until much later that all Canadians had the right to vote. Most “people of colour” were prohibited from voting at the provincial and federal level until the late 1940s and it wasn’t until 1960 that every Canadian of age had the right to vote. That’s right! 1960! Prior to that time, aboriginal Canadians were required to give up their treaty rights and renounce their status under the Indian Act in order to qualify for the vote.

On election day, get off your butt and VOTE! Don’t make excuses. Don’t be one of the apathetic masses. Vote, if for no other reason than because you can! Before you vote, however, do your homework. Don’t cast your ballot based on how your parents or your grandparents have always voted and please look beyond social media for direction. Examine the record of those who’ve been leading us, look at the party platforms, and above all, consider the character of those who are vying for leadership positions. The future of our country depends on it!

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Ribstones in the rain

August 31, 2019August 31, 2019 / edebock / Leave a comment

On the top of a hill about half an hour northeast of here, is a collection of rocks with a long history and a story to tell. The Viking Ribstones are quartzite boulders carved by the nomadic First Nations people who inhabited the prairie in years gone by. The stones stand as a monument to Old Man Buffalo, the spirit protector of the herds that provided them with food, hides, utensils, tools, and so much more. Grooves carved in the two largest rocks in ancient times are thought to represent the ribcage of the buffalo and circular holes may represent arrow or bullet holes.

We weren’t too keen on spending a cool rainy afternoon cooped up in the house with three restless grandchildren who are visiting for the Labour Day weekend and Drew, the oldest, has been wanting to see the Ribstones since he first heard about them, so off we went. Thankfully, the rain was nothing more than a light drizzle as we approached the hill, the highest point for miles around.

Historically, natives in the area left offerings to Old Man Buffalo at the Ribstones before hunting and after a successful hunt. Today, this is still a sacred and revered site to the First Nations people who continue to visit and leave offerings that include braided sweetgrass, tobacco or cigarettes, and other small trinkets. Five-year-old Simon was naturally curious and wanted to play with some of these objects, but in an attempt to teach him respect for the sacred nature of the place, we explained that it was something like a church and that the objects were similar to what we put in the offering plate at church.

Ribstone sites are very rare and this one has been designated a provincial historic resource. Only nine have been found in Alberta and this one is particularly significant because the stones remain in their original setting.

Colourful ribbons and prayer cloths hang from the fence enclosing the site and trees in a nearby grove. Some have clearly been there for a long time, while others are newer.

The hilltop is a peaceful spot overlooking fields of grain in every direction. Hopefully the rain will let up and harvest can begin soon.

Amsterdam by bus, boat, and on foot

May 28, 2019September 1, 2019 / edebock / 4 Comments

Just like the other European cities that we’ve visited, Amsterdam has major museums and galleries, but for our last two days before heading home, we were looking for something more laid back. We spent most of the day yesterday touring the city via Hop On, Hop Off bus and boat. We didn’t hop off a lot. We just took in the sights and got a feel for the city.

Amsterdam is sometimes called “Venice of the North” and actually surpasses Venice for number of canals. In fact, it’s the most watery city in the world with over 100 kilometres of canals and more than 1500 bridges.

The tall elegant canal houses with their many different gable styles are so picturesque.

Did you notice the beams extending out from some of the gables? Because the houses are so tall and skinny, staircases are steep and narrow. Moving furniture up and down them is often impossible, so the beams have hooks on them and winches are used to lift heavy or bulky objects to the upper storeys. There are very few private canal homes anymore. Most either contain offices or have been divided up into apartments.

Houseboats also line the sides of many of the canals. Some were clearly built as floating homes while others are old canal boats that have been converted for the purpose.

Watching canal bridges open to let larger boats through was interesting.

After yesterday’s tour of the city we enjoyed supper at the very popular Pancake Bakery in what was once a 17th century warehouse owned by the Dutch East India Company. The restaurant is just 300 metres from the Anne Frank House where young Anne, her family, and four other Jewish people were hidden in a secret annex for 25 months before being discovered by the Gestapo on August 4, 1944. Only Otto Frank, Anne’s father, survived the war. Photography is not allowed inside the house, but I would urge anyone who visits Amsterdam to see it for themselves. It’s a sobering, but very worthwhile experience. Just be sure to book your tickets and time slot well in advance.

In her diary, Anne wrote about hearing the bells of Westerkerk, this nearby church, from the hiding place.

Before arriving in Amsterdam, we learned that there would be a nation wide public transit strike today. Buses, trams, and trains would not be running. As our hotel is some distance from the central part of the city, that presented a challenge. We didn’t want to spend our last day in Europe holed up in our hotel and we knew that taxis are expensive and that waits would be long, so we walked. And walked. And walked! According to Google Maps, we walked approximately 10 km! Fortunately, Amsterdam is flat!

Our main goal was to get to Museum Ons’Lieve Heer Op Solder, also known as Our Lord in the Attic. Built in 1630, it looks like any other canal house from the outside, but inside it contains a hidden secret, a church in the attic! Roman Catholicism and other non Protestant faiths were banned in Amsterdam during the 17th century, so people turned to small house churches hidden from the public eye. The authorities knew that they existed, but looked away. Well-to-do merchant, Jan Hartman, came to Amsterdam from Germany in 1661 and bought not only the canal house on the Oudezijds Voorburgwal, but also the two houses behind it. He had the top floors of the three buildings connected and they became the spectacular attic church. The museum, complete with 17th century furnishings throughout the houses, provides an interesting and thought provoking glimpse into history.

We saw some other interesting things on our long walk today. This statue is located just across the road from our hotel. The inscription, “de verdwenen boer” means the missing farmer. As Amsterdam grew during the last century, the city annexed surrounding villages. Families who had been farming here for generations were bought out or had their land expropriated and were forced to move. Children and grandchildren of these displaced farmers had the statue erected as a tribute to them.

Windmills are almost synonymous with the Netherlands and there are still a few of them in the city. We saw one while on the bus tour yesterday, but I was able to get better photos of this one when we passed by this morning.

While we enjoyed Amsterdam by bus, boat, and on foot, we didn’t try the most common form of transportation; bicycle. Everyone here seems to ride a bike. In fact, there are more bikes than people in Amsterdam and far more bikes than cars! There are fabulous bike lanes everywhere and there are even traffic lights for bicycles!

Backroads of Belgium

May 27, 2019 / edebock / Leave a comment

At nine o’clock on Saturday morning the taxi dropped us off at the Avis car rental office in Bruges, Belgium where we picked up our wheels for the day, a brand new SEAT Ibiza with only 61 km on it!

Sticking to smaller highways and backroads, we set off across country to the small community of Verrebroek, not far from Antwerp. It was from Verrebroek that Richard’s great grandfather, Joseph Leopold DeBock, emigrated to America as a young man. Here’s the very first thing we saw when we pulled into town!

A bit of online research prior to our trip had taught me that there were large De Bock businesses in the area, but unfortunately they’re closed on Saturdays or we would have dropped in to say hello. Interestingly, the North American branches of the family that descended from Joseph Leopold spell DeBock without a space between the e and B while in Belgium it’s spelled with a space. We assume that, as often happened in the past, immigration officials probably made an error in recording Joseph’s surname when he arrived in the country.

We visited the Verrebroek cemetery and found a number of De Bock graves. Clearly, there must be an older cemetery somewhere in the area, but everyone we talked to directed us to the one we visited. One of the oldest graves there belonged to Leopold De Bock who was born in 1883 and died in 1960, no doubt a relative.

After eating lunch in a little sandwich shop in town, we set off again retracing our path partway back to Bruges and then turning toward the ocean and following the coastline. Just past Zeebrugge, we stopped to spend some time strolling on the wide expanse of sandy beach that seemed to go on forever. This misplaced coastal girl needs a bit of sea air once in awhile!

Everywhere we went in Belgium, we saw bright red poppies blowing in the breeze. I took this picture beside the road where we parked when we visited the beach. As I walked the sandy beach trail, I recited bits of John McCrae’s famous poem, In Flanders Fields. Little did I know that within a couple of hours, I’d be standing by his grave!

Just past Oostende we turned inland again and headed toward Ypres. Belgium is a beautiful country; a lush coastal plain where we saw sheep, goats, and dairy cattle and small fields in every stage of growth from recently seeded to approaching harvest. The easiest crop for us to recognize was the bright yellow canola in bloom. Belgium hasn’t always been so pastoral though. Our main purpose for visiting Ypres was to see the World War I cemetery there, a sober reminder that the beautiful countryside has been torn by war on more than one occasion. We weren’t sure how to find the cemetery, but suddenly before we reached the town, there it was.

It would take hours to read every headstone and many of them are weathered to the point where it’s difficult to make out the names, but of the ones I read, there were some that stood out to me.

“A Soldier of the Great War”

Like the other unidentified soldiers in the cemetery, the inscription at the bottom of the headstone says “Known Unto God”. All that is known for sure is that this young man was a member of the 72nd Canadian Infantry Battalion. Whose son was he? Whose brother? Which family was left wondering what had become of their loved one? Where his body lay?

These three newer headstones stand separately at one side of the cemetery and don’t actually mark graves. They have names on them, but the one on the left says “Known to be buried in this cemetery” across the top and the other two say “Believed to be buried in this cemetery”.

This one says “Ein Unbekannter Deutscher Krieger” (an unknown German warrior). He was the enemy, but he was also someone’s son, someone’s brother. In death they’re all the same.

Visiting the cemetery and seeing the graves of so many young men was sobering, but realizing that a kilometre or so down the road, there was another one with more than 1200 more graves in it was overwhelming. This was the Essex Farm cemetery and it was in this vicinity that Doctor John McCrae penned his famous poem while working at the medical station that had been set up there. It was also here that I found his grave.

Just over the rise behind the Essex Farm cemetery is this beautiful scene, but notice the white sign on the nearest tree.

Here’s what it says:

When we left the second cemetery, we turned back toward Bruges. We returned the car 11 hours and 327.5 km after picking it up. With the help of a paper map and the vehicle’s navigation system which didn’t speak any English, we’d covered a significant portion of Belgium and managed not to get lost!

More of beautiful Bruges

May 24, 2019 / edebock / 2 Comments

When we set out to explore Bruges after arriving yesterday afternoon, we had the Market Square (Markt) in mind as our goal, but like most of the European cities that we’ve visited, it isn’t laid out on a grid, and even with a tourist map in hand, we got completely turned around! That didn’t matter at all because every time you turn a corner in Bruges, there’s something beautiful to see. We simply wandered the narrow cobblestoned streets with names like Katelijnestaat, Zuidzandstraat, and Zoonekemeers and eventually ended up back at our hotel.

Today, we finally figured out the map and spent several hours strolling at a very leisurely pace. This time we had no problem finding Market Square which is dominated by the 13th century Belfry of Bruges tower. We have no doubt that the view from the top would be astounding, but we decided to forgo the 366 steps it would take to get there and limit our views to ground level.

Its many canals add to the beauty and charm of Bruges and we walked along many of them today.

This bend in the canal is known as the Quay of the Rosary (Rozenhoedkaai) and is apparently the most photographed spot in Bruges. Though I can’t deny that it’s lovely with the belfry tower in the background, I think some of the other scenes I’ve photographed rival it for beauty.

As one who loves reflections on water, this spot was one of my absolute favourites.

A visit to Bruges would be incomplete without taking one of the half hour boat tours of the canals. In addition to seeing this magnificent city from a different angle, the captain’s commentary was informative and interesting.

The weather has been absolutely lovely since we arrived here and we’ve had little desire to spend time indoors. I did want to spend a little while in the Church of Our Lady though to see Michelangelo’s magnificent marble carving, Madonna With Child. Created in about 1503, it was the only one of his works that left Italy during the artist’s lifetime when it was brought to Bruges by a wealthy merchant. It was stolen for the first time by the French occupiers in 1794, but later returned after the defeat of Napoleon. It was removed a second time by the Germans toward the end of World War II, but once again it found its way home to Bruges where it is highly treasured.