Spooky Hallowe’en All

I mildly dread Hallowe’en night.  It’s a royal pain to hang around by the front door and hand out treats to fake goblins.  This year I have set up my lap top in the living room and I’m determined to do a play by play of exactly what goes on.  Because it is SURE to be extraordinarily interesting, although I’m not certain yet to whom.   Our next door neighbours always do their whole front yard up with tombstones and gouls, attracting the spooks to their door.  And thus to mine by default. 

6: 14  First little trick or treater of the night – two foot tall witch with flaming pink hair.  Accompanied by parents who appear to be WAY happier than the witch.  Perhaps she has been forced into Hallowe’en servitude and will be giving up her pumpkin full of loot before bed.

6:21 A small grey elephant and a brown bear in arms.  Both confused and rightly suspicious, accepting candy from strange old ladies.  Dad having a ball.  Mom on the sidewalk snapping pictures for posterity.

6:25  W. goes by with the lawn mower roaring.  I’m not even kidding.  I have NO IDEA why I am married to him.  He’s seriously deranged.

6:27  I have consumed two mini mars bars. 

6:28 W. turns off the lawnmower for 3.2 seconds and starts it up again.

6:29  Cute little blonde in a fancy red coat.  Winterized red riding hood?  Not sure.

6:30 Very tall woman in a lacy white dress carrying her head, accompanied by a wood cutter.  Or something.  I don’t ask.  They’re an awesome pair.

6:35 The two little girls from next door, Megan and Mini Megan, two little blonde princesses.  With shopping bags as big as they are.  W. stops the lawn mowing to talk to their mom, our neighbor, who will probably put a for sale sign out on her own lawn tomorrow.  I hear him tell her he’s not completely crazy, just close.  Sigh.

I am sitting here rethinking giving out the little treat bags full of stuff I don’t particularly like first, saving the mars bars for last.  The mars bars might not make it to ‘last’.   When I partially close the front door leaving it very slightly ajar, it moves on its own and creaks.  Woot!   I have a practically haunted house.  The boogey man is on the lawn.

6:48  There has been a serious lull in the proceedings, no doubt caused at least in part by the moonlight grass clipping dementor…..

6:53 Three boys, one just escaped from prison, one straight off a pirate ship, and the other one looking like he could use a bath.

6:54 A Wild Thing, from Where the Wild Things Are!  I had no idea those wild things were so damn cute.  Maybe it’s just the ones who have their moms tagging along.  Smart moms leave dads at home to hand out the crap.  No doubt with strict orders to leave the lawn mower in the garage, thank you very much or I will divorce your sorry ass.  Or some such thing that I never can get up the nerve to say out loud.  W. and the mower appear to be headed off into the twilight at last.

6:59  W. informs me that Jay (older brother of the Megans next door) is dressed up as a skeleton, sitting in a lawn chair amidst the tombstones, scaring the bejeesus out of unsuspecting trick or treaters.  His dad told him anyone over 12 is fair game.

7:03 A baby bumblebee.  Less than two feet tall.  Mom tells him to say thank you.  He says you’re welcome.

7:05 Spiderman and his good buddy Skeletor.  They tell me they are just starting out and look plaintively into my eyes.  Perhaps this ploy is supposed to make me double up on the treats?  Doesn’t work. 

7:06 A giant furry grey chewbacca??  What WAS that thing?  And another big guy with a gas mask.  I think they could quite possibly be pushing thirteen, never mind twelve.  I’m happy to see them head off in Jay’s direction.

7:07 Three little girls with painted faces and gigantic pillow cases.  I’m lost after that much of an observation, because they are in a SERIOUS hurry.

7:08  I ask W, who is now hanging around at the front window drinking a pepsi, if he would like to hand out the treats for a bit.  He says no,  he has to go put some ice on his groin.  You KNOW I could not have made that up.  This is the lawn ranger we’re talking about here.  He does not understand how I can find a painful groin so hysterically funny.

7:12  Another lull.  I light some candles.  Say some prayers.  I’m just kidding about that last part.

7:20 Three more gigantic kids with goulish painted faces and freaked out wigs.  There should be a rule that if you’re six feet tall it’s time to go to a party and get drunk and leave the candy for the little guys.

7:21 Three geisha girls.  Jay makes them SCREAM their little white faces off.

The first bowl of made up little bags of treats is gone, and it’s on to the juice boxes.  I’ve saved those for the bigger kids who, if they break their arms carting them around, will be okay with that as long as it means missing some school.  So I don’t have to feel guilty or anything.

7:26  A really sparkly silver skeleton and a fairy princess with irridescent wings.  And hooker make up.

7:27 A football player, a horrible looking goul, and a skulking companion who does not look up so I don’t know what he is supposed to be.  Weirdos are definitely travelling in threes tonight.

7:33  Another three little monkies who are THRILLED TO DEATH by juice boxes.  They aren’t actually monkies, but seriously, there are kids that have painted faces and toques and things that look like extra appendages bobbing around all over them.  It’s Hallowe’en man!  Anything goes.   

7:38  This stool I’m sitting on gets harder by the minute.  I notice the people across the street have their Christmas lights up.  Not that there’s anything wrong with that.  At the end of October before there’s any snow or anything.  I’m just sayin’. 

It’s a perfectly gorgeous night!  No snow or rain, mild temperature, no wind.  I have a LOT of juice boxes to go.  If I’d known they’d be so popular, I might have started off with those!  And given the big kids pencil sharpeners or something!  I’m always making the wrong hallowe’en decisions.  Thus the dread. 

7:42 Perhaps I need to go find a book to read.  Or at least get a drink of water.  Or take a bathroom break.  If old frozen groin lawn mower boy over there could be counted on to fill in for a minute or two.

7:44   Nothing to report.  Afraid to abandon my post.

7:50  A little more action at last.  Two little girls with winter coats on and long skirts and big black boots.  They tell me they are sisters.  I want to tell them their mom dresses them funny, but they take off before I think of it.  Which is just as well I guess.

8:10  W. announces he’s going to have a hot shower after rummaging through the last candy bowl asking me if there’s anything good in there.  I tell him it’s the same stuff he’s been eating all week.  I have another mini mars bar.  Because tomorrow he’ll take the last of them to work and I want to be good and sick of them by then.  So that I won’t make a fuss about it.

8:13 Wow, I think that might be it!  Where are the stragglers?  Jay is still out there patiently waiting for that big heart attack victim to materialize.

8:17  Yay!  Three more little ones.  A pumpkin, a red thing and a bug or something. Their sacks are pretty full, so I suspect this is just another stop on their way home.  Now they have some extra weight to drag down the sidewalk behind them.

8:22  I think W. has gone to bed!  Pretty pathetic behaviour for such an exciting night.  Clocks turning back and all that good stuff.  I’ve been to Farmville and done some harvesting.  Perhaps I’m not entertaining enough for him to put a lot of effort into staying awake.

8:26  Drank a peach juice box and feel ill.  How do kids do it?? 

8:30 Well, that’s it, I’ve had entirely enough fun for one night.  Don’t see anyone else on the streets.  Time to close the door and turn off the lights and ……  open it again for a cat, yet another princess, and something dressed in a lot of orange.  I gave them two juice boxes each.  It made their night, apparently.

8:33 An angel with awkward huge wings, a witch looking a tad bedraggled, and a kid sister cat tagging along, stumbling on the steps.  What a strange night of threes!  It must mean something.  Something profound and incredible.  Or nothing at all.    The peach juice has made my brain fuzzy.

8:34  The Grim Reaper!!  And to think I almost missed him!!  What a gruesome sight!  I long for another bumble bee.

8:42  Blow out the candles.

8:45 Close the door.

8:56 Turn off the lights. 

9:12 My computer is back where it belongs and my butt is on a much softer chair.  I have survived yet another onslaught of Hallowe’en trick or treaters.  And like every year I’ve been doing this I can now once again feel foolish for having had a panic attack earlier which caused me to pick up an extra box of chocolate bars on the way home.  Because you just never know if a hundred kids will show up instead of a dozen.  The guys at W.’s work have come to expect a ridiculous amount of candy on the first of November, so why start disappointing them now by purchasing a sane amount. 

9:24 It’s time for a grown up hallowe’en treat for me.  A wee dram of witches brew.  The night didn’t kill me, and this probably won’t either.  And if it does, well then we’ll know that the grim reaper costume was no joke.  Happy Hallowe’en and cheers!

There, now wasn’t that an awesome three hours of my life that I will never get back?

Our Trip to the Atlantic Coast

All of my pictures are posted on facebook (well, the ones worth looking at, anyway), so here’s the lazy persons way of putting them on my blog. 

 http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=127452&id=638161726&l=d2d88c357d

 http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=127472&id=638161726&l=5018290859

 http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=127710&id=638161726&l=4f926cf83a

 http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=127914&id=638161726&l=659b3b9018

Whew!  that pretty much sums it up.  Except for the places we stayed and the food we ate.  Lots of fish.  YUM!!  They really do make the best fish ever out there.  I’m not a big fan of seafood chowder, but had some in North Sydney that was excellent.

The one thing that is missing from my pictures is our adventure in Glace Bay.  We popped into a mining museum at exactly the wrong moment.  A guy glommed onto us and told us excitedly that the last mine tour of the day was just about to get underway, and if we wanted to join it we should hustle on down, and don’t worry,  you can pay later!  So we hustled.  We donned hard hats and big black capes.  I only had time to think that this would probably be an underground ride on one of those little mining cart train things, but as we walked down into the mine shafts I realized THAT wasn’t gonna happen.  The ceilings got lower and lower so that we had to stoop.  I kept banging my hard hatted head on overhead beams.  And I’m pretty short.  Finally we joined the group of similarly demented tourists who were patiently awaiting our arrival.  The talk began, and I think it was pretty interesting, but my mind was kind of wandering.  It was dark, and cold and wet and generally icky down there.  I couldn’t see what was happening with my camera, and found out later I had taken a video of a stuffed horse.  It was a very short horse, so maybe it was a pony.  Told you I wasn’t listening.   I put my camera in my pocket and concentrated on breathing instead.  We went further down into the earth.  It got darker, if that’s even possible.  The guide started talking about mine disasters.  Water was dripping from the beams and I swear the passages went down to a height of four feet.  GAH.  Then we all packed into a little area with slightly better light around a little hydroponic garden and sat on benches and got a good look at eachother’s stunned expressions.  Even sitting we still had to stoop.  The fellow talking to us had been a miner, and his father before him.  He knew a lot of stuff.  He could answer all your questions, and with a sense of humor too!  I decided to save laughing until I got the hell out of there.  Finally walking steadily towards the surface felt like leaving hell behind.  I don’t know how those miners kept their sanity.  Maybe they never had any in the first place.  Taking off the hard hat and the cape felt very liberating.  Then we watched some film footage of miners and mines and strikes and poverty.  Those miners were slaves.  Our little jaunt was a picnic compared to what they endured. 

Now I can add fear of being underground to my fear of water.  Seeing an underground lake would probably kill me.  The ferry rides were okay because the ships were so huge and you could look at many things other than the ocean.  The overnight part was okay too.  I just kept telling myself that as long as the alarm bells weren’t going off, we were probably still afloat. 

All in all, it was a wonderful experience.  Nova Scotia in particular was worth seeing.  The people we met there were the friendliest I think.  And they have a Nova Scotia accent, not as pronounced as the Newfoundlanders, but endearing  just the same.  Would I ever go back?  Probably not.  Been there, done that, didn’t drown.  Saw some great stuff and learned at lot.

Dog’s Eye View Four, the Post Script

I forgot the kitchen!!

HEY!  Somebody clean up this MESS!

Thank you.

Dogs Eye View Three, the final installment.

It has taken me until THANKSGIVING to get around to part three of my cottage tour.  So you all should be THANKFUL that it’s being posted at all, or at the very least, thankful that this is the last you’ll hear on the subject.

Hey Buddy!  Somebody gave you a facelift!  Hmmm.  I almost didn’t recognize you with eyelashes.  That’s just weird.  So was that a present for your 70th birthday?  You look closer to 80.  I’m just sayin’.

Funny looking seaweed, strange little fish.  Heading AWAY from the flu symptoms fridge magnet.  Where do these things come from?  And that lovely magnetic notepad that gets used once a summer, maybe.  Way more fun to write your grocery list on little scraps of paper that go mysteriously  missing.

Help!  The ferris wheel stopped and I can’t get off!  Haha, just kidding, but this is still a scary spot.  These mugs have been hanging here on this little seventies mug rack for eons.  They change locations randomly and collect dust.  And that’s about the sum total of their usefullness, or lack thereof.  They were a gift from somebody.  No one remembers exactly who, or why, or when.  Or what  the hell they were thinking.

Ewww.  Can anyone say nauseous?  Drinking rum from a plastic tumbler while putting together a castle puzzle on a sunflower tablecloth.  Some humans have a really bizarre sense of fun.

I am precariously perched atop this brittle plastic letter, note and memo holder that’s gotta be older than dirt.  To my knowledge it has never held notes, memos or mail since it’s arrival.  It does, however, keep some big honkin’ ugly glasses safe from whatever big honkin’ ugly glasses need to be kept safe from.  Once or twice someone has picked a pair up, gazed for a moment in stunned amazement, and then plunked them back into their little slot.  No one would dream of taking this thing down and throwing it away because looking for homes for these optical appliances would be just too stressful an undertaking.  So it stays.  And the glasses stay with it.

Final stop on my way back to the overhead shelf.  All this tripping about has made me long for my own nice little safe spot.  Glad I don’t share it with a snotty elf  perched on a teapot  that should be in a museum.  Or at least polished once every 40 years.   The wine glasses are of the current century but that creepy little basket – maybe not.  Then there’s that strange green glass mini goblet lurking in the shadows.  I just don’t know what to say, except that my little chickens are looking better and better all the time.

That’s it.  I’m done.  Back to the top shelf and a long winters nap, undisturbed for another year.  Or maybe forever.  It’s hard to say.

I’m Real Real Gone

As of tomorrow, 5:30 a.m.  Off in a cab to the airport, flying to Hamilton, boarding plane number two and arriving in Halifax late afternoon.  Spending two weeks touring the Atlantic provinces with Ann and Murray.  Then another four days to take in Pumpkinfest weekend in Port Elgin.  Going to be an awesome holiday.  And likely the last one we take for awhile!  Is there such a thing as holiday overdose?  I think not. 

I’ll be back.  With pictures.

My Lovely Life at Work

This is what I wrote on September 3rd…..

…….Okay, it’s time for a serious life update.  HAHA.  My life is not all that serious right now.  There will be some changes going on at work – I was going to say could be, but nope, they’re definite.  Because both our CSA’s have quit, as university students tend to do so that they can get on with their real lives away from the optical business which was an interesting experience, but no thanks, not for me, can’t see myself doing THIS for the rest of my life. 

Our DM in his infinite wisdom (please get the SARCASM in that last little phrase) has decided (after giving us all raises in the spring) that too much money is going out in wages in our store.  Doh.  And our sales aren’t going up.  Double doh.  Every store around us has been upgraded to a super centre.  Our traffic has reached an all time low.  People will travel a little farther to a bigger center.  All this is not rocket science.  So two of us, in the interests of getting the wage expense down in our VC, and at the non negotiable request of our DM,  have joined the WM travelling Optical Circus and have been working all the way across the city, each of us one day a week in a different store.  I hate it.  The drive, the people, the stress.  One more Wednesday and I’m done with it.  DM from Mars can kiss my butt.  I’d rather go down to three days a week than spend that fourth day of work being miserable.

However….it may not come down to that.  There are changes in the works.  I can’t talk about them or they’ll get jinxed.  So I don’t even know why I brought it all up, except to vent a little and fill up some blog space……..

YES I KNOW  the above is boring as all get out.  That’s why I stopped blathering and didn’t publish it.  Now that it’s September 10th (or 11th if you count it being after midnight)  the whole thing hasn’t gotten any more interesting, except for the fact that I did NOT talk about the changes and therefore they did NOT get jinxed.  Although in a rather different way than expected but with a similar outcome.  See how things work out?  Well of course you don’t because you have no idea what I’m talking about.  The long and the short of it is that ‘one who need not be named’ had yet another in a series of dramatic emotional meltdowns when asked to do something she didn’t want to do.  Then she gave her notice.  Put it in writing and everything.   I’m guessing that over the weekend with time to think about it she regretted that impulse.  At least a little bit.  Had second thoughts after calming down.   I’m trying hard to understand her priorities and where she’s coming from, but the truth is, I just don’t get it.  All she was being asked to do was change her availability so that she could work Mondays. It’s one of the days of the week that she looks after her two grandchildren while her daughters work.  Wednesday is the other day, and no one was messing with that.  We’ve all worked around her having those two days off a week for the last two years.  Give or take.  I don’t pay attention to time lines, I just know it’s been awhile.  And I know that it meant that two other people ended up working 8 day in a row stretches every other week.  In the interests of cutting at least three shifts a week, our DM took a look at the schedule and told our manager to fix it.  No more eight day stretches.  No more split days off. 

So the new schedule had me down to three days a week, with the possiblity of another shift if we got another Doctor night.  Not happy with that money wise, but it was my choice to accept it, or travel a day a week to work at a different location and probably die in traffic somewhere.  It had another co-worker being available to travel wherever she was needed whenever she was asked.  She agreed to that too.  Not happily in the least, but she said okay.  She’s that kind of accommodating person.  Then we’re down to number three who flips out at the thought of finding someone else to look after a three year old  and an after school 6 year old three Mondays a month, so that she can contribute to making the schedule work and help us meet the DM’s demands.  In her eyes of course it is way more complicated than that, but from an objective standpoint, that is what it is.     

I’ve tried to listen and be sympathetic, but like I said, I don’t really get it.  And frankly I’m tired of hearing about it.  If you don’t want to quit, then don’t.  If you think it’s more important to go home and look after your adult children and their families, then go ahead and do that.  Do not tell me you don’t have a choice.  You have infinite choices.  If you died tomorrow, chances are your girls would figure things out on their own.  Chances are we’ll survive with three staff members, even though you really and truly believe we’ll be lost without you.  And there are three other people in this scenario who have lives almost as interesting as yours.  Full of committments.  Imagine that.  That we’re no longer able to revolve our lives around your sacred Mondays.

The hardest part of all this is the fact that I sincerely like this person, and that I don’t want to embrace any of these changes, whatever they turn out to be.  I would like things to continue as they are.  For the most part I like how we work as a team.  But change is inevitable, and most of the time it’s a good thing in the long run.  I will roll with the punches, weather the storm, wait for the dust to settle. 

For once our DM and our Manager are standing together on something.  That’s pretty weird.

Dogs Eye View Two

I lied, I’m not ready to tackle the kitchen just yet.  Saving the best for last I guess.  Mixed in with all the incredibly old stuff, (the things that people are always sighing dramatically about and threatening to get rid of once and for all),  there are some rather surprising and often strange new things.  Like this piece of driftwood, circa 2009.

Not sure if my little black and white buddy here has chosen to ignore these guys, or felt it prudent to remain very still to avoid detection, or is just oblivious to their presence.  Who knows.  Maybe he’s thrilled to have company, and doesn’t care that it’s the grim reaper and his apprentice sharing his lamp base.   Hmmm.  Think I’ll stick with my shelf and the chickens.

On to a couple of things  just a tad less frightening, although both mildly alarming in a completely different way.  The duck jar’s bottom is lined with stuck on gumdrops of indeterminate age.  There are plain gummy ones and some sugar coated ones, but they’re all hard little globs.  No one can remember exactly who put them there, and no one is willing to insult that mystery person by pitching them out.  The peanut butter jar holds an assortment of toffees which are hard enough to crack human teeth and then permanently glue your gums together.  Small children have asked to taste what’s in there, but wise adults have told them no, those things could kill you. 

This is a very popular spot.  And I know a funny story about it!  The first bottle of spiced rum (which was smaller than this one) went empty in about three days.  Grandpa picked it up and shook his head and tsk tsk’d to grandma, Look at that!  The girls drank all your rum!  Then off he went to buy this heavy duty super sized spiced rum for her.  Just between you and me and grandmalin, neither of the girls can stand the stuff, but there was no good reason to relay that information to grandpa, was there?  This is the place where Caesars are made, and lemon and lime are splashed over ice, and the pepsi can gets drained and crushed and recycled and replaced.  Busy place.   

HAHA!! Splenda!  Another joke!  Sitting up here looking down on the chips and the truly gag worthy lemon sugar cookies and the Munchies bag, knowing that all of those things will be long gone before anyone even thinks of touching him!  Except maybe to move him out of the way to get to the butter tarts.

 

Okay, one last stop.  The medicine cabinet, stocked with enigmas and conundrums and various mind boggling oddities.  The Velveta box on the very top holds old brushes and combs which no one will use because they look really icky.  There is a metal box containg four bandaids.  A half roll of adhesive tape.  A bottle of asprin which expired in the 1970’s.  A very very large jar of vaseline, in case all of us want to get totally greasy all at once on the same day.  A jar of loose powder, and a gigantic mishapen powder puff, which doesn’t look all that clean.  Some nasal spray, expiry date unreadable.  Four more bandaids, probably not quite as old as the first four, because these are in a much more modern cardboard box.  A little black film container which is half full of what looks to be more vaseline.  In case an extra person shows up for grease day.  A little jar of dried up noxema.  You never know when THAT might come in handy.  Some Vicks Vapo Rub.   Some hand lotion, a couple of razors.  An old shaving bowl and lather brush and hundred year old Rolaids and deodorant that stinks worse than the absolute worst underarm on the face of the earth.  And a couple of shampoo and lotion bottles and a little paper wrapped soap from some hotel or other, from some year or other.  Whew!  I think I missed a few things, but you get the picture.  So why doesn’t all this get thrown in the garbage you might ask?  Once again it’s the fault of that damned mystery person, and the fear that his feelings will be hurt if his things suddenly go missing.  No one wants the guilt trip that would surely follow.  So sorry, but the noxema stays.

Dogs Eye View

I’ve lived on a shelf at Camp Erika for about a thousand dog years.  The shelf is older than dirt too.  The eagle feathers (or sheds) in a jar behind me are relatively new, because eagles did not always nest here.  So they tell me.  What would I know, I never get to go anywhere.

But today that’s gonna change!  That’s me on the left beside my chicken buddies.  I think my paws are over my mouth so I’ll speak no evil.  One of my brothers sees no evil.  Or anything else.  That guy lazing around on the ground is a mystery to both of us.  The sign says “Remember, as far as anyone knows, we are a Nice Normal Family.”  I think that’s supposed to be a joke.  Because really, there is no such thing.

Today I am beginning my great cabin adventure.  I will start by going all the way to the other end of the shelf.  Well, that was exhausting, but nothing a suddenly adventurous dog can’t handle.  There are discoveries to be made, many strange places and stranger things to see and explore in my little world.  I think the startled, gasping-in-shock type expression I have on my face will serve me well on this tour.  Mafia fishing lady is not amused.

Aha!  The first place I land is a perfect spot for taking a peek  into the black medicine bowl.  Mineral oil, peroxide, bug spray, baby powder, sunscreen in every known SPF increment from 15 to 60, lid care, loofa, brushes, combs, mirror, lip balm, reactin, decongestants, pain killers, eye drops, tweezers, and the almighty AFTER BITE.  It’s a mess.  Whatever you’re looking for is on the bottom of the bowl somewhere, or more likely somebody else took it already and forgot to put it back.  Normal people have medicine cabinets.  And there IS one around here somewhere, but it’s full.  More on that later.  Prepare to be amazed.

Here we are at the first truly historical site. Behold the infamous jar of spoons.  Every person who has ever helped with the dishes in this place always ponders the dilemna of where the hell the spoons go.  And then they ask why the hell do they go here?  And then someone old helpfully explains that that’s where they’ve always gone so just put them there and shut up about it.  It all started many many dog years ago when old Swedish people could not be bothered to get up off their asses to walk across the room and open the spoon drawer.  When old Swedish people want to stir sugar into their coffee, they want to do it NOW.  Never mind that they brewed the damned stuff for two hours, a wait which for some reason or other was perfectly acceptable.  Even if by today’s standards the coffee was not.  They also tried disolving these spoons in strong tea, but by some miracle or other they all survived.  The spoon jar has evolved from unsanitary convenience to treasured tradition.  Not to mention colossal annoyance.   No one has been brave or foolish enough over the years to end the spoon insanity.  Don’t look at me!  I’m saying a little prayer to the Spoon Gods.  Please, please, don’t make me push this stupid jar off the table…. !

My last stop today will be on the window sill to gasp in horror at the leaning tower of Lamp.  I know it’s name is Lamp, because a child has written that word with a helpful little arrow on a popsicle stick at my feet. Looks as if one of  Lamp’s appendages would like to escape out the window.  Or perhaps this is how Lamp gazes longingly at the outside world remembering how loved he was when he was new.  Never mind buddy, you narrowly escaped the dump when you left home and ended up here.  A lot of us in this place are in the same boat,  living on borrowed time.   When’s the last time anyone turned you on?  If I may be so bold.  There’s been a lot of junk clearing going on in the last few years, and being cute is probably all that saved me.  You I’m kinda worried about, because cute is not exactly your thing. So stand up straight, man!  Get back in your corner!  Keep yourself plugged in and pretend you like your life of uselessness.  Take a lesson from me and the spoons – we’re survivors.    

Well, that’s enough for today.  I’m dog tired.  Stay tuned for part two.  In which I venture into the kitchen and other scary places.

I should probably blog about something….

Holy CRAP I haven’t been here for a long time.  Every time I start feeling ambitious and chatty I get interrupted by something.  And yeah, this has been going on for almost two months.  Doesn’t help that I am being consumed alive by Farm Town and Farm Ville.  WHY those two stupid games are so addictive I have no clue.  I just know that for an addictive personality like mine they are deadly time wasters. 

We spent from the 20th of July to the 16th of August at Camp Erika.  W. left a bit earlier than that to take in the Spencer picnic. I flew with Kenzie Kale and Omayja to Winnipeg where he picked us up.  What incredible little people my grandchildren are!  Several people, including two flight attendants, remarked on how good they all were, and how very polite.  Of course I was happy to take all the credit for that at the time.  They have incredible parents, so what can I say.  The rest of the crew, three adults, two more children and three dogs arrived the following week.  And then the rains came.  I’m trying to remember if we had five or maybe six days of nothing but sunshine.  I know we had twice that many with nothing but rain.  The rest of the days were a mixed up crap shoot weather wise.  Hot and sunny one minute, downpour the next.  We all had a bit of cabin fever I think.  There are lots of great pictures, and I’ll get around to posting some here one of these days.  They’re all on facebook, so I’ll just be picking a few favourites and gabbing about each one incessantly.  It’s what I do best.

W. and I had a whole ten days stretching out in front of the two of us after the families left.  Wow.  I guess that’s what retired life together will be like.  Hmmm.  He puttered around outside as much as the weather would allow, and I put together a 1000 piece puzzle.  Then I did a 750 piece one and then three more that were smaller.  That’s a lot of puzzle hours.  I started doing them in my dreams.  My DS game finally broke from over use.  I cleaned and rearranged stuff.  We ate left overs and tried to clean up the fridge.  We did a big sheets and towels laundry.  We decided to leave a day earlier than we had anticipated, mostly because both of us had totally run out of things to do.  It rained all the way home.

As much as the last few days at camp were fairly mind numbing, I still didn’t want to go back to work.  Although it was nice to catch up with everybody once I got there.  For the next three Wednesdays I’ll be working across the city fitting contact lenses at another store.  Been there once already.  Really hated the travel and the stress of  it all, figuring out how they do things and where stuff is and how things work.  Unlocking the big sliding folding doors and finding light switches was challenging.  Had many brain dead moments, including being unable to remember my home phone number for the paper I had to fill out for personnel.  It’s okay, it came to me eventually.  This is why old people give up working.    

I’m going away again!  Trip to the east coast with Ann and Murray!  THANK GAWD she is doing most of the planning.  W. doesn’t have much to contribute, will just be happy to be along for the ride.  Can’t think of two other people I’d rather travel with.  Makes me think of the fun trips mom and dad took with different couples.  She used to keep little travel logs, so I’m going to do that too.  Hers had lists of many many things.  Including what they ate for breakfast and how much it cost.  I’m going to write down some equally useless random information for future generations.  I hope they like it.

Coffee Talk

This will be my half  (or three quarters) of the coffee talk conversation I would be having with you if you were here,  and if you were real.  Like physically in the room and able to talk.  And drink my coffee.  So I am definitely NOT  talking to myself, or to an imaginary friend.  I’m not old and senile enough to be doing that yet.  Really.  Come on.  If you’re thinking weird thoughts like that, you need more help than I do.

I totally miss the  daily blather of our chat board which seems to have gone belly up in the last few months.  Too much facebook, too many busy things going on in the summer.  Work, weddings, camping, vacations, gardening (shudder).  Personally I’ve been very busy tending my imaginary farms (farm town and farm ville) (two stupidly ludicrous names thought up by someone who lives in a big city) to have time for coffee talk unless it’s solitary and involves some sort of planting and harvesting and chalking up experience points and coins.  So much like real life.  Perhaps that’s why I’m finding it such a lovely substitute.  You are rolling your eyes EXACTLY like W. does.  Gawd. 

Is it really the 7th of July already?  I leave for camp in less than two weeks.  Flying out with three grandchildren, meeting W. in Winnipeg;  the rest of the family arrives a week and a bit later.  I should be preparing like crazy, but so far I just have vague ideas about what we’ll do.  There will be a treasure hunt.  There will be swimming.  There will be tents.  Barbeques.  Bugs.  Three dogs, last count.  Two extra large and one small.  I’ll be gone for a month! 

Right now a month away from work sounds ridiculously incredibley insanely wonderful.  I need to practice a mantra – ‘respect for the individual’ or some such equally nice crap.  And get those visions of choking idiots out of my brain.  Too bad that image is now going to be with me all day.

HEY!!  I can tell you my boring car story!  On my way up to spend the weekend with two grandsons while the rest of the crew went away for the weekend, my new car went tempermental on me.  It’s a dream to drive, by the way.  Lots of power, smooth riding.  I was turning the corner north of GP on the home stretch when I heard a clunk.  Clunks are generally ominous in some way or other.  The power steering went, and I could not accelerate.  I said a few ugly swear words, which always seems to help in these situations.  Pulled off the road, searched for my emergency-only cell phone.   Had a hard time getting through to AMA but finally got W. on the phone.  Like he’s going to be a huge help five hours away, but he’s always good to dump on, so I did that.  Felt better.  Got through to AMA, who asked me a LOT of extremely HARD questions, like what is your exact location and what number can we reach you at.  Seriously.  I don’t know what my cell phone number is.  Well, I do now, but I think perhaps I gave the AMA people a good story for their stupid-people-I-have-talked-to book.   W. phoned me back because he had my number programmed into his phone, and gave me Jen’s number, which I SHOULD have had programmed into mine, or at the very least written down somewhere.  Both of which are done now.  Hind sight is a beautiful thing.

Got towed to a little mechanical shop in a small town, and picked up, and driven to my destination by daughter-in-law with five children.  Like she needed THAT in her busy day.  Corey really liked my truck.  Big flat bed tow truck.  He could not be convinced that it wasn’t mine. 

So now we know that the serpentine belt came off.  Some kind of plastic guard piece was missing from the bottom of the engine, which is supposed to keep debris from flying up off the road and dislocating the belt.  But there was also the problem of a dangling block heater cord swinging around and that could have been what popped the belt off too.  It cost me 97 dollars to have the belt put back on but the poor guy also had to put up with many phone calls from W., so he earned his money. 

Then when I got home I was brushing crumbs off the passenger seat and got stabbed in the palm of my hand with a shard of glass.  Man, did that ever hurt.  And bleed.  It’s still wickedly bruised.  Mental note to self to not eat a muffin in the car again, and to vacuum thoroughly after the windshield has been replaced.   All these things I have to learn the hard way.

Other than all that, the weekend was lovely.  Just me and the boys.  I gave Kale my DS game card with 41 games on it, and we hardly talked.  Don’t tell his mom.  Well we did have a lot of  Mario Cart discussions.  And we played some Wii and went for walks and watered trees and fed animals.   Corey is a delightful child when it’s one on one – what child doesn’t bask in total attention?  He asked constantly in the kitchen ’what are we having?’ and no matter what it was, told me ‘I don’t like it.’  It’s good to be inquisitive and voice your opinion.  He generally ate whatever it was anyway, as long as you called a smokie a hot dog, and dried cranberries red raisins, and kiwi green strawberries.  Couldn’t think up a better name for potatoes, so they were shunned. 

Can’t end the coffee convo without in true Canadian fashion commenting on the weather.  It’s pouring rain, and therefore delightful, no sarcasm intended.  I love a rainy day.  The world smells clean.