A Very Foggy Day in the Neighbourhood

As Rascal and I walked out the front door it was like hitting a wall of wet air. It was foggy. Really, really foggy. A real “pea souper” I can imagine an east coast fisherman saying…if I actually knew any east coast fishermen…and if pea soup was grey and damp instead of yellow/green and chunky. Anyway, I digress. The point is, it was really foggy. And as we walked along, it was a little spooky too. We could hear footsteps and the occasional voice of other early morning adventurers, but we couldn’t see anyone.

As we walked along in this surreal world, I realized I was humming…the theme song from the Scooby Doo cartoons I watched when I was a kid. My conscious mind quickly went where my subconscious one had already gone… the home of my early childhood.

[Insert flashback here]

When I was a kid we lived in Burlington for a few years. Right at the edge of Lake Ontario. Literally. There was a frost fence, and then a steep drop to the lake. My younger brother Steve had made it his mission in his, albeit young life, to toss anything left about by anyone over the fence and into the lake. My best friend Launa and I however, had better things to do. Next door was a rather large field of sorts, and at the furthest side from us, a very dilapidated and abandoned motel. This place was the perfect setting for our favourite adventure game….”Scooby Doo Mysteries”. Throw in the fact that living on the lake, it was frequently very foggy, I mean, how could you not play Scooby Doo Mysteries?

One of my big dilemmas in all of this was whether to be Daphne or Velma? Daphne had the advantage of cooler clothes and being pretty, but I always admired Velma’s brains. Generally we settled it the same way we settled our Sonny and Cher karaoke debates:  I would be Daphne (or Cher) because I had long hair. Launa got to be all the characters with short hair. [I never said it was fair!]

Sometimes we would rope in other neighbourhood kids to play and we would have a Fred and Shaggy too! If no one else was around though we had no problem just pretending the rest of “the gang” was there!

As far as I can remember neither Launa nor I actually had an Aunt Peggy, but this poor woman was the center of most of our mysteries. She was frequently kidnapped. She had her priceless jewels stolen, works of art went missing, and of course, the bad guys where always trying to scare her out of her old mansion by pretending to be ghosts or ghouls! Aunt Peggy did not have an easy life.

Whatever the mystery of the day, we were on it. And of course, the best days were when we could prowl around the property next door in a thick blanket of fog. One such afternoon, we were hot on the trail of something or someone and we found…gasp…bones! Actual, real life bones! They were in a small pile in the grass and we were in our absolute glory. Here was a real mystery to be solved! Our fervent minds began concocting all kinds of possible horrible ends for “the victim”. Clearly foul play was afoot!

After searching the area for clues (footprints – which were probably our own) and taking pictures, we gathered up the bones and brought them home. Imagine our chagrin when my mother, after yelling at us to go wash our hands for heaven’s sake, informed us that our find belonged to a raccoon or something similar. We were crushed, but not for long. The following day brought a new adventure and a new mystery to solve.

As Launa and I got older, our game became a little more sophisticated. We pretended to be spies! We went so far as to stakeout various neighbours who seemed a little shady and kept notes on their comings and goings. If this were television instead of my life, we would have stumbled upon some real life evil doers – perhaps an international jewel thief living incognito in our little neighbourhood! Alas, we were never that lucky. We did however spend some time staking out the lady who lived down the way. If I remember correctly she made our list because she failed to give out good Halloween candy. We didn’t notice anything exciting over the days and weeks that we watched her place…except for the fact that a lot of random men came and went, on about an hourly basis, while her husband was at work. I did not appreciate the significance of that one until I was much older.

I hope it’s foggy tomorrow too.

Boo

It was not a nice night for trick-or-treating. Rainy and cold! I wasn’t sure how many kids to expect, but we had stocked up just in case. Some years we have seen 200 plus kids in varying degrees of costume.

Halloween is typically a very stressful night for my dog Rascal. He just doesn’t get it and will bark himself hoarse from his vantage point in the front window as child after child comes to the door. I remember reading an Agatha Christie novel once in which beloved detective Hercule Poirot explained why the dog barks at the mailman. As he said, who is the one person who comes to your door day after day, but is never allowed in? The Mailman. Clearly he is an unsavory character! I guess the same can be said of trick-or-treaters!

This year, my daughter had class late and my husband decided to take our poor dog out for awhile away from the chaos, so I was home alone handing out candy. I saw that my daughter must have contemplated, and then decided against wearing devil horns to school since they were lying on the table in the hallway. Red with sparkly sequins. I thought ‘what the heck’ and put them on.

Somewhere my husband had managed to get a deal on brand name, full size chocolate bars so that is what I was handing out. Needless to say, I was pretty popular! I got a lot of “Wow” and “Gee, thanks!” and even one or two “Cool horns”.

The best comment by far however came from a young man who looked to be about 12. He came at the tail end of a large group of kids. When I put the large candy bar in his bag his eyes got huge and he smiled from ear to ear. “Thanks! That’s awesome” he said as he took it. He turned and ran onto the next house and he must have seen another group of kids that he knew and I heard him shout at them, “Hey, you guys…make sure you check out the chick with the horns”.

I chuckled about that one all night!

I didn’t see any kids collecting for UNICEF. Do they even still do that? I did have a couple of older kids come by asking for canned goods for Community Care. I should probably replace those tins of tuna before anyone goes looking for them.

Happy Halloween

Joisey - part two.

We’d arrived. Somehow. If you’ve never been to Seaside Heights, the first thing you will notice is that most of the buildings are not new. There are one or two, but most look like they were built in the 60s, our motel included. After such a long trip, all I wanted to do was get to our room and fall on the bed for an hour or so. We checked in, got our key and attempted to follow the directions the owner gave us. Lugging suitcases, bags, sunhats and grocery bags of munchies, we headed up the stairs only to come to a dead end. Back to where we started. Okay, there is another staircase over there; she must have meant that one. Nope. My daughter’s friend Kayla pointed out yet another staircase on the other side of the parking lot. Seriously!?! We eventually found our room, after finding the staircase hidden in an alcove behind the fence that surrounds the pool! The room was really nice. A pleasant change over where we stayed last year. The girls were just excited that there was Wi-Fi!!


After sort of unpacking, the girls couldn’t wait to get outside and look around. Having been here before, Kaitlin was really excited about showing the place to her friend. We took a very roundabout way to the restaurant we were going to for dinner – via the Boardwalk, and a certain house where a certain show was currently being filmed – and finally sat down to eat around 8 o’clock. Our waiter seemed taken with my daughter and blushed when she talked to him. Then he had to come back to the table and admit that he’d forgotten to write down what we ordered! It was cute until he forgot my glass of wine for the third time. I have to say, I’ve never had a bad meal any time I’ve been there. We usually just get a slice on the boardwalk for lunch, but we make a point of going someplace nice for dinner, and we’ve yet to be disappointed.

The next few days followed a wonderfully relaxing routine. Breakfast; beach; boardwalk; beach; chill around the motel pool before dinner, walk to the restaurant, nice dinner; Boardwalk. We could have driven to a neighbouring town to shop or sightsee, but none of us were really too concerned with that. I figured I’d driven 10 hours to get there; I wasn’t getting back in my car until it was time to leave!

There were several “celebrity” encounters while we were there. Many of these were quite thrilling to people related to, but not, me! And her friend! However, having signed a Waiver with MTV I am not at liberty to discuss any of these encounters. Suffice it to say that my daughter and her friend are anxiously watching the new season of a certain reality show to see if they or I appear in it anywhere. I have been told however, in no uncertain terms, that if a certain incident involving myself and certain DJ in which he was allegedly flirting with me makes it into the cut, my daughter may have to move to another city and change her name.

The trip home was far less eventful than the one there. Betty was able to join us and only once tried to steer us wrong…as we drove over the bridge leading back into Canada, she briefly lost her mind and yelled “Make a U-turn, make a U-turn”, but we just laughed at her and kept driving home.

Trip to Joisey

Anyone who knows my daughter, and probably a lot of people who don't, knows that we took a road trip to New Jersey last year.  To Seaside Heights, NJ to be exact.  I have to admit, we had a lot of fun.  Surf, sand, sun, and not having to make beds or cook dinner?  What's not to love? 

When she asked if we could go again this year, I thought about it.  I asked my husband if he would come this time, and he said he would, and my daughter planned to bring a friend as well.   We had originally planned to go in July, but for various reasons the plans fell through.

Then, at the beginning of June, my daughter came to me and said that if we could go in the third week of June, her friend would be able to come.  It was the only week she could go.  It was a lot earlier than we'd originally planned, I wasn't sure the weather would be warm enough to swim, and it wasn't the best time for me to be away from work.  On the other hand, I hadn't taken any time off since we'd gone the previous summer, not even over Christmas, and I really, really needed a break.  Okay, we'd go.  Because we were going mid week, we were able to get a reservation despite the short notice, and because my husband decided he didn't want to go after all, we only needed one room...the girls could share a bed!  The two weeks leading up to our trip were a little chaotic for me at work, and rescheduling a test for a course I was taking, but somehow it all worked out.  I left the office on Friday, officially on vacation. 

No one was home and Rascal wanted to go outside, so I decided to join him for awhile.  I pulled out a lawn chair and plonked it down in the backyard, and Rascal plonked down right beside me.  Hmmm...my brain didn't want to stop working.  I kept thinking about the office and wondering if I'd forgotten to do anything...forgotten to tell anyone anything...forgotten to....oh, this was not good.  I went into the house and found a book that I was planning to bring with me to read on the beach.  I tried to concentrate on it, but it wasn't working.  I went back into the house and poured myself a glass of chilled Chardonnay and took that outside.  I mean, I was on vacation after all!  It was better, but my brain still refused to shut down.  I went into the house again and this time brought out a beach towel and spread it out on the grass.  Before I could stretch out on it though, Rascal snuck up from behind me and in the blink of an eye, was lying full out on it, head on his paws, looking at me.  "I don't think so buddy" I said as I gave him a poke.  He reluctantly got up, and I laid down on my stomach.  I figured if nothing else, I could try and get a little colour on my oh so very pale Canadian arms and legs!    A few minutes later, I heard the patio door opening and my daughter stuck her head out.  Apparently her mother lying on a beach towel in the backyard was not what she expected to find when she got home from work.  "What are you doing?" she asked suspiciously. 

"I'm channeling my inner beach bunny" I answered.  "What does it look like?"

She went back into the house mumbling. 

The plan was to leave at 6 in the morning.  That's what we did the previous year and we'd arrived in Seaside Heights around 3pm.    As I was setting my alarm that night for 5 am, I suddenly thought, what am I?  Nuts?  I'm on vacation.  I changed it to 6am.  So we'd leave at 7 instead.  Big deal.  At 5:05 the next morning, I awoke to my daughter standing beside my bed poking me.  "Get up.  You over slept!".  Sigh. 

Alright.  By 5:30 we had everything in the car and we were ready to go pick up her friend, but not until I hit Starbucks for some coffee.  I mean, I have my priorities.  My daughter turned on the GPS to plug in the address of our hotel in Seaside.  The power came on, but the screen was frozen and we couldn't do anything with it.  Great!  No worries I said, I had printed out directions online the night before, just as back up.  We would use those.   I remembered from the previous year that the GPS had taken us a much different route than the printed directions I'd had, but I figured we'd get there either way, so it was fine.  Fine!  I'd just keep telling myself that. 

Caffeinated and finally awake, we had crossed the border and were driving through upstate New York.  My daughter was navigating in the passenger seat and her girlfriend was in the back seat, reading over her shoulder, and occasionally taking a turn reading one of the directions out. We were doing fine until we hit a detour.  A really long detour.  When we finally got off of it, nothing seemed familiar compared to our directions. We drove awhile longer and I started to fear that we had missed our turnoff while we were on the detour.  The last thing I wanted to do was keep driving if were going the wrong way.  We were still heading south, but at some point we needed to go west, and that was the part I was afraid we'd missed!  Eventually, we came to a small town and we stopped in a general store to ask for directions.  The girl behind the counter had no idea and they didn't sell maps.  Up the street was a Police station, so we pulled in there.  It was a really old building, and at first it seemed to be deserted, but as we continued down one hallway and then another we eventually found an officer and explained the reason for our stop.   He said that we were actually fine on the road we were on, but that there was a quicker way and he offered to print me out a new set of directions starting from our present location. 

New directions in hand, we thanked him and were on our way.  As we started off, my daughter noticed that the directions he had given us were in miles instead of kilometres and asked me if that was going to be a problem?  I told her no, I could convert it in my head, so no worries.  I took a quick look at the new directions and compared it to the old ones and noticed they were quite different, but hopefully they'd get us there sooner!

We were going along pretty good.  Just as we crossed into Pennsylvania, first her friend fell asleep, and then my daughter.  I was actually appreciating the quiet. They were both very excited about going to Seaside Heights because they had found out the week before that the MTV show "Jersey Shore" would still be filming while we were there.  They were both avid fans of the show and each had their "crush" in the cast that they were hoping to catch a glimpse of!   Since we'd hit the road at 5:30, that was all I'd heard about.  The quiet was nice!  

I knew that we should be coming up on Binghampton, PA before long.  That was one part of the trip that was actually familiar to me and it would be a good place to stop for lunch.  As I was driving along, I was thinking that I should have seen a sign for it already.  I had the directions in my lap trying to glance at them and none of the signs or exits looked right and I was starting to think that maybe I'd missed the exit.   Just as I was about to wake up my daughter to look at the directions for me, I saw the sign!  Huge sigh of relief.  I really missed Betty! 

Betty is what I call the GPS. Occasionally I have referred to her as Bitching Betty, most recently when I was driving over water on a very long bridge and she kept insisting I turn right!    It's really not her fault though.  Betty is getting older and her maps don't always update the way they used to.  I glanced at Betty, still plugged in, and still frozen.  I silently promised her that if she came out of her coma, I would never call her names again! 

We had lunch in Binghampton, filled up the gas tank and I got another coffee for the road.  The drive through Pennsylvania was a pleasant one..."Rocks and trees and trees and rocks" as my daughter said. But I liked it.  I remembered from the previous year that once we got into New Jersey and started to get closer to the ocean, the exits and turns came fast, so I warned my daughter to pay attention so we didn't miss anything.  She would read one direction, then say "and you go for 9.2 miles" so I could keep track of when a turn or new exit would be coming up.  Her friend was leaning over her seat, and they started taking turns reading the directions out to me.  Somehow, nothing was making sense.  One minute we were on a major highway, the next we'd be exiting on to some back road, only to end up on the same main highway again.  It also seemed to me that it was taking a lot longer to get there than I remembered once we actually got into New Jersey.  The only thing I could say for sure was that we were still basically heading south.  Betty, where are you?  We were on the Garden State Expressway...again, and all of a sudden we were on a bridge.  I knew we had to cross a bridge into Seaside Heights, but this didn't look right.  And then I knew why.  The next sign we saw said "Welcome to Staten Island".  What the?....how did we?...this was not good!   

Once across the bridge I managed through a series of turns to get back on it going the opposite direction until we had backtracked enough that we are at least on familiar territory again.  "Okay" I said to the girls, "let's start again."  They were doing the same thing, taking turns reading the directions, and again it seemed like we were taking a bizarrely roundabout way.  My daughter read the next one and followed it with "and drive 2.1 miles".  A few seconds later her friend piped up and read  the next step and followed it up with " and then drive 1.2 kilometres". 

Kilometres? 

It explained so very much when I realized they had been reading, and I had been following, two very different sets of directions!  I didn't know whether to laugh or cry.  We were now on a long winding back road.  The only comfort I had was that we were going in the direction that I believed the ocean to be in.  There wasn't a house or business anywhere that we could stop and ask for help.  In fact there was just....rocks and trees.  It was going up for five o'clock and I just wanted to get there already.

Suddenly, there was a voice from above...well, actually it was kind of from below and to my right.  "Route Recalculation.  Route Recalculation."  Oh my God.  Betty was alive.  But wait, was she okay? Was she going to be able to figure out where she was...where we were?  The three of us waited with bated breath.   I reached down and oh so gently picked her up.
There was a map!  Right there on her face.  And it showed the road we were driving down!
Oh happy day. There were hoots and high fives from the girls and I'm not ashamed to tell you that I actually kissed Betty! 

It turned out that somehow, against all logic, we were going the right way, although in a roundabout one.  Within minutes Betty directed us to turn right and we could see the bridge that would take us to Seaside.  Another fifteen minutes after that and we were on the island and turning down the road to our hotel.  We could see it now too...right there at the corner on the right.  "Turn left in 100 metres.  In 100 metres turn left".  Oh Betty, you're such a kidder. 

To be continued....

Fahrenheit 98

Like a lot of North America in recent weeks, it's been pretty hot where I live.  As we know, we Canadians love to talk about our weather, and this has just been added fodder.   The first words my husband says every night when he gets home?  "Man, it's hot out there!"  To which I usually reply, "It's summer.  It's supposed to be hot!".  Yes, I know...clever, right? 

But even I have to admit..it's been HOT. 

I have a friend who lives in the US.  We email once in awhile.  The other day he sent me an email asking how I was doing.  Among other things, I mentioned it had been pretty hot lately, and that in fact it was supposed to reach a high of 36 degrees that afternoon.   "That's nothing" he wrote back.  "It's going to get as high as 98 here today!" 

I couldn't help laughing at him....as in LOL.  "You idiot", I wrote back, "that's the exact same thing!"  LOL

He claimed he didn't speak metric. 

It got me thinking.  I can still remember when we were forced to learn the metric system in school.  Around Grade 8 I think it was.  I get why the country changed, and it makes sense.  And for the most part, I adopted it and over time managed to adjust how I perceive measurements, but some were definitely easier than others.  Litres?  No problem.  Just pass me that 2L bottle of Coke please!  Kilometres?  Piece of cake.  In fact, when I was driving recently in the US, my directions were in miles so I was mentally recalculating between them and my SUV's odometer the whole time so I'd know when a turn or exit was coming up.

Temperature is one thing I have never really adjusted to though.  I understand it.  But to this day, when I hear on the news that it is going to be 20 degrees outside, my brain automatically does the conversion.  "Oh, 68 degrees, nice." 
I don't even think about it really, my brain just does it all on its own.  Its like the Celsius numbers just don't mean anything to me. 

But if you think about it, Fahrenheit just sounds way more exciting.  I mean, 36 degrees?  Whatever.  But 98?  Man, that's hot.  You could fry an egg on the sidewalk on a day like that!! 

See what I mean?  

And it works the other way too.  When the weather man tells me it's minus 20 outside, do I wear a scarf?  A toque? My extra insulated fuzzy dog walking mittens?  But if I do the math in my head and realize it's really 4 below zero (F) outside, well, that's your tongue getting stuck to the steel bus stop post kind of day.  It's cold out there!! 

I think I'm going to start a movement.  It will be led by people like me, forty somethings who never quite warmed up to the whole Celsius thing.  You can keep your kilometres, and your grams and litres but we will demand Fahrenheit back!!  It's just sounds better! 

Customer Service?

Some of you may remember my rant about the phone company. A couple of years ago I woke up to find no phone service in my home. When I got to work I called them and after the usual treasure hunt to get to a person who could help me, I was shocked to discover that as far as they were concerned, we had willingly had our phone service discontinued. It seemed that some fly-by-night company sent them a form letter that said that we had agreed to move our service to this new company. I mean, it was on letterhead, so I guess they had to believe it!  Apart from all of this, and the argument that ensued when they wanted to charge me for reinstatement of my phone service, and the fact that it would take 3-5 business days to even get my service back…the kicker for me, the real absolute unbelievable kicker was that after all of it, they had the nerve to tell me that my husband would have to call them and request the service be reinstated because the account was in his name. Even as I write this, I still can’t believe. Never mind that they took away our service in the first place because some letter arrived in their mail, signed by neither myself nor my husband, and never mind that we had requested by phone and by letter at least three times in the past that my name be added to the account, but no. He had to phone. You may be able to tell that I am still not over it. By the way, we are no longer with that phone service provider. There are some things you just can’t forgive.

Recently my daughter and I were on a trip to New Jersey. One night while chilling in front of the TV in our hotel room, we discovered a new channel. We liked it and decided to find out about adding it to our tv satellite package when we got home. The other night I thought about it while I was channel surfing and finding nothing to watch. I got out my last bill and called them. Naturally, it took awhile to get through and I sat through several renditions of “please note, this call may be monitored for training purposes” and “your estimated wait time is five minutes” followed two minutes later by “your estimated wait time is five minutes”.

Eventually I got through to a person and happily gave her my name, address and account number.

I explained what I was interested in. She asked me to hold for a moment, and then came back with “I am afraid I can’t help you. The account is in your husband’s name. He will have to call and make the request”. Sigh. I know, I should have seen it coming.

I tried again. “On [insert date here – which I remembered because it was recent and the same day I got my hair cut] I was in your office with my husband replacing some hardware and we requested at that time that my name be added to the account”.

Silence.
“I have no record of that on the account. Your husband will have to call and request the change”.

Maybe, if she had at a least said she was sorry, I would have just let it go.

“Let me ask you a question”, I said. “I have a User ID set up on your website where I can go and make this change myself. Silly me, I thought it would be easier to call as I had some questions.  However, if I can go and do this online, even though you say I have no authority on the account, then why can’t I do it on the phone with you?”

“One moment please”. I pictured her putting her hand over the phone and whispering to the person beside her.. “Got a real winner here!”

“Ma’am, you will have to get your husband to call and make any necessary changes”.

“Okay, I just want to make sure I understand. You are saying I personally have no rights on this account, correct?”

“Yes ma’am”.

“Okay. It’s good to know that if something were to happen to my husband, I am not responsible for any outstanding balance owing on the account, having no rights on it and all.”

More silence. I could feel her rolling her eyes through the phone.

Before she could hang up on me, I added “Thank you for your help, and please note that this call may have been recorded for training purposes”.

I know, but it made me feel better.

Run For Your Life

I recently started running.  Why?  Well, there are a couple of reasons I guess.   I used to run everyday when I was in high school, and even for awhile after that, but somehow with a job and kids and everything else, I just sort of stopped.  Over the years I've thought many times that I should start up again, but somehow I never did. 


I think it began really with a particularly gruesome episode of one of the many (my husband says too many) crime dramas I watch.  This one really got to me for some reason, and I actually dreamed that the killer was after me the night I had watched it.   I woke up in a cold sweat, afraid to go back to sleep.  As I lay there in the dark, I was thinking about the nightmare, and I suddenly realized something very important.  If a killer was ever actually chasing me for real.....I'd be dead.  I couldn't outrun a tortoise...okay, maybe a really old, slow tortoise, but still!
I started thinking maybe I should stop thinking about running, and actually do it. 


Crazy, right?  I may have got past this idea and put it behind me in a few days, if it hadn't been for my brother.   My brother Steve is 5 years younger than me, and like all younger brothers are supposed to, he annoyed me greatly growing up.  As a teenage girl I was always conscious of my weight, and he would always tease me about the way I watched what I ate, while he could eat anything and still be as skinny as a bean pole.  He would take double and triple helpings of things just to rub it in.   Well, we all grow up, even younger brothers, and Steve did too...getting married and moving away.  We didn't see much of each other - just at holidays, and during one visit, I noticed Steve getting a little soft in the middle.  Over the next few visits, it became even more noticeable that he was gaining weight! 


Don't get me wrong.  I love my brother and I don't want him to be unhealthy...but I have to admit to a certain smug satisfaction in this!   But then it happened...another holiday came around and a get together with family, and my brother was....thin!!!  And not just thin....in shape!   What was going on?


Steve had taken up running!  Sigh.  He said he never felt better.   I tried to tell myself that he didn't really look that good...he was too thin!  But I didn't really buy it. 

And then he did it.  Out loud, for every one to hear at the dinner table:  "So, Sis...didn't you used to run everyday?  But I guess that was a long time ago!...he he he".  In my mind, that laugh sounded much more evil than it looks here!  

Brothers.

A few weeks went by and I really didn't have the excuse of bad weather anymore.  I went out with Rascal one night and we ran.  It was at that point that I began wondering how to teach Rascal how to dial 9-1-1 on my cell phone.  He's a very smart dog.  He could do it!  Maybe if the keypad was bigger.....?

So I went on the Internet and found a site that promised to teach me to run 5 km in 8 weeks...without dropping dead by the curb!  This was encouraging.  I could do this!  I was pumped! 

The key, was to alternate running and walking, and of course increasing the running time and decreasing the walking time each week.  Makes sense.  I asked a few of my friends if they were interested in joining me in this life affirming exercise!! 

No.

So, I was on my own.  The first night I went out I thought I was going to die.  Two minutes have never seemed so long.  I kept checking my watch to make sure it was working!  It was.  Later that night, when I was going up to bed, I hit the first couple of steps and my knee felt like it was on fire.  Luckily, I work for a company that makes products that help with things like that!  

The goal was to go out three times a week, and just follow the program.  The first couple of times were hard!  But it did start to get easier.  I think it was the third or fourth week where the timing changed significantly on the running side of things, and that was hard too...but I powered through it.  I found it made things easier if I knew exactly how far I had to go.  It was easier to push myself to do it if I knew the end was around the corner, or at the next block.  There is a dirt path through the woods near my house so I measured it and found that the longest section of it is 1.5 km in length so I know I have to do it 3 and half times to hit 5 km. 
At this point, I can do it, but it's still not easy.  That will come. 

A few years ago I worked with a young man who ran marathons.  I was asking him about it once and I remember he said that he had reached a point where it was no longer a question of how far he could run....just how fast he could do it.  I like that.  Maybe one day! 

Thanks Steve.  Love you little brother.  : )

Victoria Day

I know they say that we Canadians talk about the weather...a lot.  And it's true.  My husband even puts the Weather channel on when there is nothing else good on tv...I know, I make fun of him for that too.  But we do like our weather.  And given that yesterday was the nicest Victoria Day (or May 2-4 if you prefer) that I can remember in a long time.. it will surely be talked about for some time to come.  Especially next year when it will most likely be rainy and cold again! 

It was such a nice day in fact, that we decided on an impromptu barbecue with our friends.  While I was inside getting food ready, my husband was outside on the patio with the hose, washing off bird poop that really did seem to be every where.  He was not a happy camper.  And I didn't need him to tell me that it was my fault...me and my crazy love of nature....putting out a bird feeder and bird bath...honestly!!!   But I love watching the birds in the yard..hopping along the grass under the feeder..  splashing around in the bird bath.

And watching them is exactly what Rascal and I were doing while we sat in the backyard waiting for our guests to arrive.  Well..Rascal was mostly sleeping in the sun.  I spent a lot of time that first summer with him, training him NOT to chase the birds!  So now he just ignores them.  

As I sat there enjoying the moment, a large black Grackle swooped down from my pine tree and took out a small starling in mid flight.   Having gotten hold of it, he forced it to the ground.  It happened in the blink of an eye.

I just sat there stunned for a second.  I couldn't believe I'd actually seen what I thought I had. But no.. there it was, in the grass by the tree, pecking at the poor little thing.  I thought I was going to be sick.  I jumped out of my chair and ran at it, yelling and waving my arms until it reluctantly flew off.  But it was too late, the little starling was dead.   My first thought was to bury it under the tree and I headed towards the shed to get a spade, but then I realized that Rascal or a raccoon or something would probably dig it back up and that would just be....bad.   So, I disposed of it elsewhere.

I'd seen these birds before, and I noticed that when they come around the feeder, the smaller birds will scatter, but I just thought they were bullies.  I never thought they'd actually kill one of them.  When I came back outside, the Grackle was back, swooping low over the yard.   Alright, I don't honestly know that it was the same one, but it probably was.  I ran out into the yard again, waving and yelling at it. 
Rascal finally took notice and ran out into the yard with me...ready to do battle, but not really sure why or with whom.    The next time it flew low and landed I poked Rascal and said "look, go, chase it".
He gave me a look that clearly said, "Oh, so now you want me to chase the birds?"  Obviously, this is going to be up to me. 

I hate bullies.