I’m no Mario Andretti. I feel no need for speed, no matter how many times I’ve seen every Fast and Furious movie in the franchise.

I am, however, a gadget person. When I like a car, mainly it’s because it has all the bells and whistles that my little geek heart can dream of. And I can dream up a lot of bells and whistles.

So when I was given the chance to test drive the Honda HR-V, I was more than excited. Firstly, I’m as

environmentally conscious as the next girl and this beauty is top notch. For a lesson on hybrids, the car takes gas but as you drive it stores up the kinetic energy in the battery. Gas lasts longer and you don’t need to plug it in. Big plus for me! My driveway is far enough away from my house that the concept of plugging anything in always seemed a bit unwieldy for me. But I still want to do my part for keeping Bermuda sustainable so … score!

When you turn the car on, it starts in battery mode, meaning that you have that moment of, wait, did I remember to actually turn it on, that you get with fully electric cars. Over a certain speed, the car can switch to gas usage but there is a button to keep it in battery mode.

One thing that I thought was quite funny: there’s no spare tyre! The battery takes up most of the back carriage, so they have this ingenious kit to fix flats. You know, that foam stuff. Honestly, there’s a part of me that wants to get a flat just so I can use it. Told you I’m a bit of a geek. This is some 23rd century type of car maintenance.

On to the gadgets. As a mom with three kids, grocery shopping takes up about most of my weekends and there’s nothing worse than having to put bags on the ground to open the truck. HR-V has the best solution. The trunk opens with a foot sensor. One little foot wave and alley-oop, the trunk opens on its own. No oranges rolling down the parking lot. Or hands full with kiddy bikes? Again, a ballet pirouette and ta-da! It can even close on its own. Yeah, I’m way too excited but, you get me, it’s a game changer. Oh, and the back seats come all the way up. Like a Transformer. Seriously, like if Optimus Prime was a car seat.

And to talk about no-touch convenience, the front doors open with a touch if you have the key on your person. No need to pull a handle. It’s like magic.

For the more standard features, there’s USB ports in the back and front so no longer do you have to do the plug-in tango with your passengers (read: kids with too many electronics). In the front, you have the added convenience of a wireless charger. Gotta have some perks for being the only one tall enough to reach the pedals.

There’s a rear-view camera which is kinda standard nowadays but, and get this, there are side cameras as well. Any Bermudian that hates parallel parking, now you can actually see exactly how much space you have (no more side scrapes). These cameras automatically turn on with the indicators which means that the bike tryna take the nip on the inside, I see you mate!

The car comes in dark grey (most popular), white, silver, black, red and the newest colour, opal white for the shimmer and sparkle lover in us all. It’s a Honda so driving is a bit of a dream. Smooth sailing people. Conveniences and gadgets mean this is a popular car and as you know from living in Bermuda, the good stuff tends to sell out quick!

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Having said all that, I do have a few preferences. Both of the cars that I have owned were Suzukis because I really like how they drive. Both were Class C because I really dislike being parted from my money. I’m not a huge fan of white, black or really any coloured cars besides grey… and silver, maybe? Although to be fair, that’s pretty much grey “from anotha motha”. Reigning theme here is, basically, I’m not overly adventurous when it comes to the family car. 

So when I was offered a chance to test drive a car, one that I don’t have to worry about figuring out how to afford, I totally jumped at the chance to go big. The Hyundai Kona is a Class F fully electric car. It’s not overly large by size but in terms of vroom vroom and va va voom, this car has it all. And it’s electric! You can enjoy all the perks with the added bit of smugness of being an eco-warrior. 

The Kona has the full complement of all the bells and whistles that you would expect. You know, like the rear camera so I can have an up-close view of that pole I just hit. Or the sunroof that provides my husband with the most perfectly round head sunburn. The sunglass holder, because hello, how is that not cool? It even has heated seats in the front AND the back as well as ventilated seats in the front. Not sure why but it’s still cool though (see what I did there?). And as a woman with the requisite cavernous purse, the keyless start is pretty much the best thing ever made. 

On to the electric stuff. Contrary to the belief I had, you only need to plug it in every couple of days but there’s no harm in doing it whenever. It does actually plug into the regular wall socket but that will make it charge a bit slower. Auto Solutions actually has a collab with BeSolar if you are interested in installing a plug specially for the car, cutting our fossil fuel electricity altogether. Unfortunately, you do still have to buy gas but it’s a fraction of the amount. 

The Kona is a zippy little car, that drives smoothly and quietly (like really quietly, I honestly thought it had turned off at times). It’s good for the environment, good for having that sense of superiority that we all like to have and as an added bonus, with this thing called the “re-directional charge”, your car can act as generator in a pinch. Best. Car. Ever. 

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Good resolutions are simply checks that men draw on a bank where they have no account. –Oscar Wilde

New Year’s Resolutions. The time-honoured tradition of making grandiose plans with the purest intentions of keeping none of the said plans. How many times have we promised to go to the gym more, become a vegetarian or drink less (yeah right)? How many times have we gone on about all the healthy, wealthy and wise decisions we intend to make for the betterment of self in the upcoming year, only to peter out?

This year I have decided not to not make resolutions that I actually have no intention of keeping. Instead this year, I resolve to:

• Take fewer pictures… and spend every moment in the actual We spend so much time making sure that the world can see how much fun we are having that we often miss having said fun. I resolve to have more fun this year that’s just for me.
• Spend more time with deprived children… my own. Life passes us by so quickly, and you get caught up in a world of “get this chore done so I can move onto the next one”. I resolve to just stop sometimes and play with them.
• Drink more wine… the good kind. Once we get the kids to bed and chores are finally done, my husband and I both are usually too shattered to do much more than grunt at each other. I resolve to let the dishes remain unclean once in a while, sit under the stars and talk like we used to when we were dating.
• Exercise less… and experience more. We force ourselves to the gym, and we force ourselves to mindless classes (one, two, three, four and again!). I resolve to find ways to keep fit that engage my mind and soul as well as my body. Take the kids for long walks, take them swimming, and play Twister… that’s still a thing, right?
• Fall out of love… with candy and empty calories. Having spent the last year being pregnant, I also spent the year gorging myself on junk food. I resolve to satisfy my sweet tooth not on containers of icing (yes, I kind of hate myself) but on a few dark chocolate raisins; on more fruit instead of Lion bars.

This year I resolve to keep my resolutions… not by just not making them, but by making ones, that I want to keep, to live my best life.

The post Making good resolutions appeared first on RG Magazines.

We decided to buy at a late stage in our lives because, one, we were tired of contributing to the empty equity of others; and two, if you weren’t born with the proverbial silver spoon in Bermuda, well, it simply takes this long to build up the considerable down payment. And boy, did it hurt my heart to transfer that money for the purchase. A fool and their money are soon parted.

When I say “fixer-upper”: by the time we actually closed, parts of the roof had fallen in and a myriad other thing needed to be done (we didknow about these beforehand). Thus, we started our journey into the renovation world of our new home. Did I mention that the two of us, two kids, and one on the way were going to be attempting to live life normally, in the house, while this was going on?

As luck would have it, my dad works in the construction industry and has friends, lots of friends. Do you know the saying, “It takes a village”? Well, that doesn’t only refer to raising children. In my case, it applies to making our house an actual home. We had two weeks to get our new house liveable, and this had to be completed while both my husband and I were working full-time, leaving our evenings to work on the house. With that said, I couldn’t actually do much to assist with any of the heavy lifting which left the menfolk to paint, tile, fix and mend. I was charged with entertaining the kids, keeping them from underfoot.

We were living temporarily in an apartment owned by an uncle, and didn’t have much furniture, so there was less to move. The home-buying process started months before and, I can tell you, living out of a suitcase while going through copious amounts of paperwork and legal wrangling, is not an easy living situation. It seemed like a good idea at the time. Then again, so did having another child. These decisions always seem so much easier in my head.

One of the trickiest parts of the process: our bedrooms. For the first time, our kids were getting their own rooms. Each room had concrete floors, which needed more than rugs and paint. So, we went to every flooring store, from Carpet Professionals in Paget to Souza’s Carpets in town, and looked at wood tiles, regular tiles and at carpets and epoxy floors. We then looked at our dwindling bank accounts, which pretty much made the decision for us. After all the searching and discussion, we finally went with… rugs and paint.

Even after the frenzied pace of renovating just to get us in the door, the move-in brought its own issues. We had no appliances, no bedroom furniture, still a leaky roof and the impending rainy season to contest with. With emoo.bm in hand and a mate of my brother’s on tap for repairs, we managed to coddle together what actually looks and feels like a home now. To look back and see from whence we started until today is pretty amazing. Taking on live-in renovations is not the easiest thing to do but we did it while remaining friends. Our now three children have a forever homestead and surprisingly, still, both parents to share it with.

This article was originally published in the Fall 2018 edition of RG Magazine.

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It brings to mind being a teenager on my first booze cruise, summer nights around a bonfire at the beach, boating on Paradise Lakes with a few of my closest friends and more than a few of their closest friends. It makes me think of being dragged to family weddings with your parents and having a blast because those lot know how to party, of school dances (not regular dances but DAAANCES), of entire days being spent on the sand with just a cooler and a boom box – (Yes, I know I’m showing my age, but those were the days!). I’m transported to the hours spent fishing off the rocks with my mates, doing more chatting than actual fishing.

And the thread that ties all those experiences together is the tunes. We defined summer by the music and still do even if today’s music isn’t quite as good. We defined summer by the choice of which of the many concerts we actually could afford to go to and not wreck your budget, again still an issue we deal with if to a much higher extent now. We defined summer by the hours spent picking out and putting together the perfect outfits that made you look cute but was flexible enough to let you whine down, whine down to the ground. We defined summer by the impromptu parties up someone’s house where the coolness factor was defined by how well they slung tunes. And nothing messed up summer more than a broken Walkman.

More than the food of summer, the drinks of summer, it’s the music of summer that truly makes the memories of summer. Music is one of those things that transcends to create a feeling that is more than the sum of its parts. For me, that is and always will be old school 90’s reggae and soca. My summer theme songs have that classic four-four beat. A little ‘Hot This Year’ and I‘m eighteen again celebrating the best parts of being a Bermudian, before life and kids got in the way (not that I’d trade those munchkins for the world… most of the time). A little ‘Twice My Age’ and I’m suddenly seeing Bermuda as the beautiful island paradise it truly is and not just the place where life with all its adultness of work and responsibilities conspires to keep my head down. Music allows you to use the eyes of your heart to truly see the world around you.

I hear some good tune and my soul, if not my body, dances and a little smile reaches my lips.

Shabba!

This article was originally featured in the Summer 2018 edition of RG Magazine.

The post When I See You Smile, I Can Face The World, You Know I Can Do Anything… appeared first on RG Magazines.

I start boggling in my head no matter when or even where I am. Even just walking down the street (I might even flip out a few hand bogles if I think I can get away with it).

It brings to mind being a teenager on my first booze cruise, summer nights around a bonfire at the beach, boating on Paradise Lakes with a few of my closest friends and more than a few of their closest friends.

It makes me think of being dragged to family weddings with your parents and having a blast because those lot know how to party, of school dances (not regular dances but DAAANCES), of entire days being spent on the sand with just a cooler and a boom box – (Yes, I know I’m showing my age, but those were the days!).

I’m transported to the hours spent fishing off the rocks with my mates, doing more chatting than actual fishing.

And the thread that ties all those experiences together is the tunes. We defined summer by the music and still do even if today’s music isn’t quite as good.

We defined summer by the choice of which of the many concerts we actually could afford to go to and not wreck your budget, again still an issue we deal with if to a much higher extent now.

We defined summer by the hours spent picking out and putting together the perfect outfits that made you look cute but was flexible enough to let you whine down, whine down to the ground.

We defined summer by the impromptu parties up someone’s house where the coolness factor was defined by how well they slung tunes. And nothing messed up summer more than a broken Walkman.

More than the food of summer, the drinks of summer, it’s the music of summer that truly makes the memories of summer. Music is one of those things that transcends to create a feeling that is more than the sum of its parts.

For me, that is and always will be old school 90’s reggae and soca. My summer theme songs have that classic four-four beat.

A little ‘Hot This Year’ and I‘m eighteen again celebrating the best parts of being a Bermudian, before life and kids got in the way (not that I’d trade those munchkins for the world… most of the time).

A little ‘Twice My Age’ and I’m suddenly seeing Bermuda as the beautiful island paradise it truly is and not just the place where life with all its adultness of work and responsibilities conspires to keep my head down. Music allows you to use the eyes of your heart to truly see the world around you.

I hear some good tune and my soul, if not my body, dances and a little smile reaches my lips. Shabba!

The post When I see you smile, I can face the world, you know I can do anything… appeared first on RG Magazines.

It’s not overly original, the mains of this delicious holiday. We do the same candy eggs and chocolate bunnies as the rest of the world and our Easter evening or afternoon family set is chock full of the staples of a big family meal with ham, mashed potatoes and mac and cheese. I mean, we do have the usual bbq chicken and paw paw casserole if your family likes to go old skool Bermudian but that’s pretty much a given for any weekend meal at most Bermudian houses. And the hot cross buns of course, whilst being made with someone’s grandma’s handed down recipe from the first shipwreck on the island,  they are still by no means unique to Bermuda.

However, where we shine as a country is our fishcakes. I mean, you might call it Good Friday but at my house, it’s simply known as the day that breakfast, lunch and dinner meld into one long fishcake pon bun eating festival sporadically interspersed with naps, kites , swizzle and the requisite ice cold 12 noon (on the dot!) Heineken. It’s uniquely Bermudian, not only the recipe and the accompaniments but the tradition in and of itself.

Now, the tradition may have food as its center but the true heart of it is in the collectiveness. It’s in the knowledge that that you are celebrating not only spring and rebirth of the year after what we Bermudians call a long winter (effectively anything colder than 70 for basically longer than two weeks) but also the Easter holiday itself, whether it has a religious or secular meaning for you.

It’s hearing the hummers for the first time this year and not thinking, seriously, do they have to make that noise all day AND all night, and actually smiling instead. It’s watching your cousin try to put his “prize” kite featuring a montage of Bob Marley pictures in tissue up in the air and inevitably watching it bean its way head first into someone’s tree. It’s standing in front of your son flicking his plastic Spiderman kite into the air and yelling at him to run to keep it up and being frustrated by watching him stand there as it falls repeatedly to the ground as apparently he forgot how to speak English or follow directions so you take it away from him, get it up to the end of the string and then tie it to the nearest tree because now you totally deserve another Swizzle…. Wait, just me? Uh huh, you’ve totally been there.

It’s heading to St David’s to watch the annual Go Kart race which coincides with the annual “have to park a mile away and walk in” tradition and immediately followed by the “watch the largest kite in Bermuda not get air… again…” tradition.

But more than that, it’s about inhaling copious well fishcakes made by my mom because I’ve yet to figure how to make them correctly and knowing that I’m one of many Bermudians doing the exact same thing at the same time and feeling the same feeling of family, love and history.

Or is that heartburn…

The post Nothing says Easter like fishcake friday appeared first on RG Magazines.

It happens every year. Summer approaches and as the temperatures rise so does the realization that summer clothes are also approaching. You might think I’m referring to the commonly known and feared bikini season. Hah. You apparently must not have thighs.  No, I’m talking about short sleeves, shorts, even capris (if you obsess about your calves like I do), the list goes on.  For us of the larger than a stick persuasion, bikinis so aren’t the first stress point, more like just the most. In fact, by the time we reach the level of bikini, my stress is nuclear.

This year, however, I determined that I would break the cycle of hope, delusions and that eventual moment when I realise I actually am that lazy. That and that it’s all good since hubby loves me just the way I am. I’m pretty sure he doesn’t mean that sentiment to encourage me to slack on getting fit, but whatev, he really should have been clearer. He says passive encouragement, I say implicit approval of my hard-earned sedentary lifestyle; you say tomato *music notes*… But I digress.

Knowing myself, I figured that just the want to be fit wouldn’t work so I decided instead to throw myself all butt cheeks in and sign up for Bermuda Heroes Weekend/Carnival. Yeah, I totally don’t do anything by halves. Not even, by quarters to be fair. I’m pretty much going for abject failure or DE ABS O’STEEL! No, I don’t have unrealistic expectations, why’d you ask?

Now, you might be wondering how I came up with the obviously fantabulous idea of using the possible end result of abject embarrassment to force myself to break out of my very rarely-ending cycle of keenness and then giving up for another year? Because I’m a masochist, of course!

So here I am with my ”jiggle even when the song ends” syndrome and less than two months. ..

I’m a huge fan of yoga but since I never really get past the deep breathing and neck rolls before I succumb to a well-earned nap or am rudely interrupted by the little monkey who figures that if my lap is near enough to be sat on, it must therefore be sat upon, I’m not sure that will help.

Then there’s barre, which I love. For about a minute until I remember I hate barre. Whereas apparently, it’s the idea of ballet I like more than the actual doing of it. (Totally explains me dropping out at 5 1/2 and then blaming my parents for the next ten years every time I fancied myself a dancer…)

I do like to lift weights but as I have children and a job and my couch really hates to be neglected, joining the gym kinda isn’t in my wheelhouse. Yes, I know I could buy free weights and lift at home but…la la la, I’m not listening to you…

Where was I? AH yes, so what is my plan, you ask? Well, joining my company’s fitness challenge of course. Because having the whole of Bermy see my failure to eradicate probably even a lone fat cell isn’t bad enough, let’s let my whole company witness my inability to, well, fitness.

And then I remembered why I even had the thought of the BHW idea in the first place. I have friends who I adore do it last year. They are more fit than me (obvs this isn’t hard) but they aren’t supermodels. Courageous as they come but not models. And then I also remember seeing the videos from last year and seeing the many shapes and sizes and costumes and I remember not thinking about any of that because I saw the joy and fun in each person’s eyes. I saw the dancing and the camaraderie and I didn’t think, hey, I want to be fit to do this… I thought I want to do this so I can have THAT. Carnival is less about the bodies and much more about the spirit.

And hey, if I do just happen to lose a pound or two getting all fit, well, let’s just consider that a bonus…

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