Thankful

On Christmas Eve, I had to run home briefly to let the dogs outside.  My nieces asked to come along, and Lewis was incredibly excited to see them.  We all went out to the back yard to give him a chance to run, but since he was so excited to see the girls and they weren't dressed for the snow, we ended up coming back in right away.  A few minutes later, we gave the dogs treats to tie them over and went back to the party.

When I came home a little while later, the dogs greeted me at the front door and I think I saw Winter.  I took off my coat and boots, and walked towards the back of the house to let the dogs out.  That's when I realized the back door was wide open.  And, by open, I don't mean unlocked.  It was blowing in the breeze and letting anybody that chose to either come or go.

It took a little while for this to register, so I was already out back with the dogs before I clued in to how bad that open door could be.  I left the dogs in their pen and came back in.  I'd thought I'd seen Winter when I came in -he almost always greets me when I come home- but I needed to confirm that he was still around.   Winter has been an indoor cat his entire life, and while he can be trusted not to dash out the doors when they are open briefly, this was pushing my luck.  He was still inside...  or possibly inside again.

Every year I hear stories of people's homes being broken into over the holidays while they are out celebrating.  Honestly, I was so relieved that all three of the pets were safely inside that I didn't even bother checking the house or looking for items that may have been stolen.

Nieces Rock

Yesterday, I went to Calgary with my sister-in-law and the nieces.  Our original intension was to check out a new organic farmer's market, but when the nieces decided to come along, it became a girls' day out.

We started off at the market... well, we started by driving past two Tim Horton's before we found one that had a reasonable lineup so we could get breakfast... then we went to the organic market.  It was good (I came away with a grass-fed beef roast that will be chopped up for THIS Mediterranean Beef Stew,  fresh honey and handmade gnocchi) and it was nice to go to a farmers' market that was mostly limited to things that farmers actually produce, rather than people selling crafts.   ... don't judge me for the gnocchi.

After the market, we swung over to the first of two malls that we ended up visiting.  The focus there was mostly clothes for the girls, and we had both successes and challenges.  It's pretty disturbing how overtly sexual some of the clothes are now for young girls, but luckily they both seem to understand that there's a big difference between attractive and sexy... both are still drawn more to classy styles.  The older niece, who is an avid golfer,  cleaned up on a few golfing outfits.  The younger niece, who is like me and loves all things sparkly, ended up cleaning up at a sale by bringing home about 7 new sparkly outfits...  oh, to be ten and wear sparkles every day.

In one store, I zeroed in on some bags right away.  The younger niece loved them too, and thought I'd picked it out for her.  I said HECK NO, that's for me; but agreed that there was no reason why we couldn't have matching bags.  So, I got one for carrying my stuff to zumba classes, and she got one for her overnight trips to visit her grandparents.

Cool bag, eh?  It doesn't show very well in the picture, but it's covered in clear sequins.

Regularly priced @ $37.  Cost $10.98 thankyouverymuch.

After that, the girls introduced me to my first bubble tea, and then it was time to head home.  All in all, it was a fantastic day.

Unexpected

There's a job that I've wanted for what seems like forever.  Truth is, I have felt as though this was, in large part, the job I was doing even before I moved into my current position; but the powers that be have always said it was not.    They have classified me at a lower level, which has always irked... not just that I have been paid for less, but more that I know I can do more.  I want my work to be the best of my abilities, and also I want it to be recognized as such.

For a while, I've been torn because of my classification.  I've known that my work exceeded my job description, and therefore the recognition that I got for it.  This bothered me.  I couldn't resign myself to only work at a lower level to match the classification, but have been unhappy not to be recognized for the quality of work that I do.   Although I enjoy my job and am extremely happy with the team I get to work with, there has been a distinct lack of job satisfaction as a result.

While I was in Italy, there was a posting for the job I wanted.  The job posting opened and closed while I was away.    Thankfully, my boss already had my resume, and added my name to the list of candidates.    A few days after being back from holidays, she informed me that I would be interviewed in two days' time.  She came to my house.  We sat at my dining room table.  I wore jeans because my old clothes don't fit, and I didn't have sufficient time to get anything new.  Our director called in and participated remotely.

We started off with a question that was intended to be light and fluffy.  I misinterpreted, and answered with something quite deep and profound.  There were technical questions that I could have answered better.  There was one question that I answered well enough that my boss wrote down my response in order to quote it later.  Somehow (I think) I managed not to babble, which is what I tend to do when I get nervous.  In closing, the director suggested that I consider working for another leg of her team, because she thought it was the sort of work I'd really quite enjoy, and also she thought the variety would do me good.  Considering that and the fact that there were 25 applicants, I wasn't very optimistic by the end.

Friday, I got the happy news that I got the job.  I haven't been able to say anything until today, when the announcement was made, but I've been wanting to jump for joy.  It'll be a challenge for sure.  While the work is with the same team, and there are many responsibilities that I am familiar with, I am a little worried now that there is so much for me to learn that maybe I don't even know what I don't know.  But,  I'll have a good coach in my boss and I'm looking forward to the challenge.  This is MY job; the one I have pictured myself in, almost before I started my current (old) position a few years ago.  I can hardly wait to get started.

Getting Back into the Groove

I seem to have lost my blogging Mojo.  I'm having trouble thinking of what to say, and the ideas I do come up with don't seem worthy.  So, I've decided to post whatever comes to mind, in an effort to post more often and hopefully get back into the groove.

I didn't see many dogs in Italy.  From what I've heard, it's not all that common for people there to have them as pets; although it is becoming more popular.  Luckily, I didn't see many strays there either.  So, I was surprised to come upon two loose(ish) dogs in Florence.  I zeroed in right away on two labs who had been leashed together, as soon as we walked into the piazza.

They looked well fed, but there were no tags, and no apparent owner nearby.  I stopped and looked for quite a while, but I seemed to be the only one who showed any interest in them.  That upset me.  I'm the type of person to stops for loose dogs, looks for tags and tries to get them home; but there wasn't much I could do in Italy.  Even if I did know who to call, I didn't speak the language.    But, who would tie two dogs together and then abandon them???

I hesitantly left the dogs behind, and went with Ginny to get our gelato.  As we sat there having our treat, I looked across the piazza and saw the most wonderful thing... a group of apparent travellers and their dogs.  The labs very clearly belonged with them.   One lady in particular seemed to be their owner.  I don't know where she'd been, but she was back, and she clearly loved them.

At first I just watched, but when I saw the yellow lab jump up on the bench and slurp her from chin to forehead, then curl up in a ball beside her, I got out my telephoto lens and took some shots as I found spaces between the crowds.  None of these resonate with the pure devotion that I saw that day, but they do give a hint.

And this guy has his own suitcase, which he jumped into as soon as it was opened.

Funny - I didn't notice the graffiti at the time.  If I did, I didn't remember it.  I must have been too busy looking up and around at the amazing architecture.

And one final picture, which Ginny took...

It may not be apparently in this photo, but we were impressed with the serving sizes over there.    You pretty much got two scoops, whether you wanted them or not... we eventually stopped fighting it.  But, those bowls, which were fairly ubiquitous, were about 1/2 a cup in size, and were never packed full.  The scoops were each about half the size of what we'd expect if we bought an ice cream around here, but they were more than enough.  That might be yet another reason why we rarely, if ever, came upon an overweight Italian.

The chase

Tallulah and I get up early in the mornings and go for a jog.  It's dark now when we head out, and generally pretty quiet.  We don't generally see anybody along the way, so I was surprised when we encountered a cat.  Most of the outdoor cats around here are pretty aggressive towards us, but this one was nose to nose to Tallulah before I knew it.  He was a grey kitty with white toes, and he seemed very friendly.  I think he saw a friend in Tallulah.  Unfortunately, I didn't have time to stop and play.

I put Tallulah into a heel and headed down the road.  The kitty tagged along, so Tallulah and I sprinted for about a block to get ahead.  Kitty kept up.  He looked like a mini cheetah the way he tucked under and tore along behind us.  This was now a game, and he was determined to come along.

So, we jogged.  Tallulah pranced along in a heel beside me, and the kitty followed along, 5 paces behind.  His tail was straight up the whole time and you didn't have to look very carefully at all to see  the huge smile on his face.

So, off we went, our caravan of three.  One block, then another and then another.  We went well beyond the distance where I was comfortable taking the cat, but he was determined to come with us.  Eventually, though, that route comes up to a major road, and I generally run 3 km along that road.  I knew the kitty would want to follow us there, and I couldn't take the thought of him getting hit.    So, I turned around.  I ran home with Tallulah beside me and the kitty five paces behind.

My run was cut short that morning, but I wasn't mad at the cat.  It was funny, and I now have a particular fondness for a certain grey kitty with white toes.  I do wish, however, that his owner had kept him inside.

Creepiness and Guarded Hope

The East Coast Nut Job sent me a message yesterday after I posted about his creepiness here.  He  skipped over the fact that I shut him down and all but hung up on him at the end of the conversation.  Instead, he said that he'd enjoyed our talk the night before and hoped that he could call me again tonight.  I responded to say that I don't think we have much in common, and that I wasn't feeling the attraction that I am looking for.  I told him that to avoid future frustration I would be ended things now, but wished him all the best moving forward.

Not thirty seconds after I hit send, my phone rang.  I didn't pick up, but he called me multiple, multiple times last night.  Finally, at about 9:30 (12:30 his time) I received a three page message from him, listing everything that we have in common.  He then cut and pasted some of the things I'd written to him earlier, and used those to let me know how I'd deceived him and led him to believe that I was attracted to him and that we would be a couple.  

Shortly after that, he called again and left a long and rambling voicemail.  I deleted it without really listening, but the general gist is that he thinks I'm running away because I'm scared of being hurt.


To be honest, I am a little scared, but I think it'll be OK.  He doesn't know my last name, or where I live.  He doesn't have my email address.  Although he has my phone number, it is unlisted.  My name doesn't come up on call display.  I am hoping that his voicemail last night was the last hoorah.  If it's not, and if he continues to call, I'll have a friend who is with the RCMP give him a call and tell him to stand down.


And in other news,  I will be meeting somebody else for coffee tomorrow.  He first contacted me just before I started to get a whiff of the East Coast guy's craziness; otherwise I don't know if I'd have the nerve to do this.  While I am determined to withhold any judgement until I've met him in person, I don't see any red flags.

This guy is quiet and a little shy.  He works in the aviation industry (as a tech, not a pilot).  He has recently taken up riding lessons and is loving it so much that he leased a horse.  He's also got an old dog, who he loves openly and worries about.  There's something about animal lovers that make me trust them that much more, but I'm still being careful.  A friend of mine knows where we'll be and when.  I've arranged to text her before and after we meet, and she'll check in if she doesn't hear from me in a reasonable amount of time.

The Nut Job Challenge - first submission

The Zadge challenged me to see who could date the worst nut job through online dating.  

East Coast guy called last night.  He's the guy who I chatted with last weekend.  He seemed promising, but then he flew out to visit family out east, so we didn't have a chance to meet in person yet.  We've talked a few times, and I was starting to conclude that this maybe isn't the guy for me.   He comes across as a nice guy, but my heebie jeeby senses have been firing.

I forget how it came up, but I ended up telling him about a challenge I'd had earlier in the day at work that had been particularly frustrating.

He responded by telling me (in a baby voice) to imagine that I was sitting on his lap, and that he was giving me a back rub.  I interrupted him to tell him that I don't know him and don't want to sit on his lap.  He kept going, and described the whole assault massage and where his hands would go.  I remained completely silent throughout, and then reminded him that we've never met, and that we are a long ways away from being where he seemed to think we are.

Needless to say, I don't think things will work out with him.

Because I have nothing else to talk about...

Last spring for a few months, there was a possibility of their being a guy.  I used to know him, way back when, and we lost touch when he changed jobs.  Then we reconnected through Facebook.  I don't know that I ever had strong feelings for him, but he's the exact kind of guy I want to be with.    Emotionally strong, communicative, funny and tall being among some of his better qualities.    He lives in another city, but we talked a lot and got together a few times.  I thought things were going somewhere.  Then he told me that he's still in love with is ex, who he'd broken up with a few years ago, and he was pretty sure he was meant to stay single forever.

I don't know that I bought that.  I accepted that I wasn't the girl he was looking for at the time, but secretly told myself that we'd stay in touch in case the time came that he changed his mind.  Then, a week or so ago he changed his relationship status on Facebook and suddenly he's not single anymore.  Even worse, most of his status updates since have either been about being with his girl or wanting to be with his girl.  I felt like each of those updates was a renewal of the rejection.

So, I did what any other sane girl would do in my situation and I signed up on a dating website.

At first I connected with a guy who seemed to have promise.  He's good looking and tall.  He was nice enough but I eventually noticed that he lacked in the IQ department to the point of distraction.  When he told me he used to "leave" in Calgary, but has "leaved" in Edmonton for a while now, I decided to cut my losses.  As bad as my spelling and grammar may be, that made my skin crawl.

Then I responded to a message I got from a guy that seemed more likely to have intelligence.  His profile said he was an architect.  At first, I didn't notice how brief and superficial he seemed, but I eventually caught on.  When I asked about his job, he told me simply: "I love my profession".  When I asked him about his hobbies and what he does for fun, he said "I like sports".  I felt no guilt in moving on from him.

Yesterday I got a message from somebody that said I look grumpy in my pictures, but he likes the energy in my profile so he's going to give me a chance.  (For the record,  I looked at the three photos I had posted - I had open mouthed, showyourteeth smiles in two of them and was grinning in the other.)  Then in his next sentence he said I am pretty now but I'd be hot if I lost 30 pounds.  I'm sure you'll be shocked to know that I chose not to respond to him.


It hasn't been all bad, though.  Saturday, I got a message from a nice guy.  He's a little older than me, but it seemed as though we had enough in common to give it a shot.  I responded to his message, and right away he wrote again.  We ended up writing back and forth almost every hour all day.  There was a message in my mailbox from  him late at night when I went to bed, and another one in the morning when I got up.  We wrote back and forth a few more times in the morning, until he suddenly went quiet for the rest of the day.   I learned later on that night that he'd been travelling, and that he'd flown out east to visit his family.    He'll be away until a few days after I leave for Italy, so we won't get to meet in person until November.    In the meantime, we'll keep in touch through email and the phone.  I'm not going to get my hopes up before I meet him in the flesh, but it'll be nice to wonder what if in the meantime.

The Pet Sitter Jinx

I don't kennel my pets.  When I go away, my preference is to find somebody to come to my house and care for them where they are comfortable.  I used to depend on friends and family, but I've come to realize that that can be an imposition.  In recent years, I've hired two different professional pet sitters.  Even after careful interviews and reference checks, it turned out that both of them were either unable or unwilling to do the job properly.

One remembered the combination to my door, but forgot how to type it in... called a locksmith instead of calling me for help on Christmas day and then lied about it when she presented me with a $300 locksmith bill on top of the $400 I paid her to take care of the pets.

The other didn't return my calls or emails for three days after somebody tried to detonate a bomb in Detroit.   I knew my flights would change - I'd likely get home later than expected - and I needed her confirmation that she could stay an extra night.    Because I couldn't get a hold of her, I ended up paying an extra $200 and making a mad dash across Calgary in the middle of the night, to get home, instead of crashing at a friend's place for the night.  She, at least, had the courtesy not to send me a bill after that mess up.

Regardless, I'm sure  you can understand why I'd be reluctant to hire a pet sitter, having had these experiences.

I'm going to Kelowna next week.  I could probably bring Tallulah, but Winter and Cotton would be miserable.  I needed somebody to take care of the pets, so I ended up asking a friend of some friends to stay at my place.  I don't know him well, but he's part of the crew who often goes out for dinner with us on Wednesdays.  He seems like a good guy.  Corey loves animals, and I've seen how responsible he is when he takes care of my friend Jen's bulldogs.  And, since he seems to be between jobs more often than he's employed, I know he can use the money.

Arrangements were made.  The nephews were informed of my pending visit, which means I can't back out, and I've been psyching myself up to make the 9 hour drive (each way) by myself.  Then my pet sitter jinx kicked in.

Corey has recently started a new job with a road construction company.   He's the flag guy.  He had blocked off a road and was directing traffic to go around when a guy drove up in a truck.  He parked the truck at the side of the road, got out and asked Corey to let him through.  Corey explained that the road was closed and he'd have to go another way.  Then the guy got back into the truck, pointed it at Corey, revved the engine and then drove full speed right into Corey.

Corey was rushed to the hospital.  The police were called, and the driver was caught (charged).  It's been a week or so now, and it's become apparent that Corey's back is all sorts of messed up and is going to need surgery soon.  

Now, in the grand scheme of things, I understand that pet sitting is not and should not be Corey's top priority right now.  I get that, and I feel all sorts of horrible for Corey.  On the selfish side of things, though, I can't help but realize that once again, my plans for the reliable pet sitter have been screwed up.  I'm going to be gone for five days next week, and now I need to find somebody else to take care of the pets.

The Naked Neighbour...

Saturday night last week, at 5:00pm, I stepped out onto my back deck and made the mistake of turning my head to the right.  There, I saw my next door neighbour in all his glory, stepping into his hot tub naked.  This isn't the first time I've seen this, and while I respect his right for comfort, I really have no desire to see his junk.

A few hours later, the doorbell rang and it was the neighbour.  Honestly, I really thought that he was there to apologize and agree to cover up when outside.  He wasn't.  He was there because he has decided that he wants a concrete curb installed along our property line.  Only, he wanted it installed on my property because he's already planted trees on his side of the line that he doesn't want to move, and he wanted me to pay half.  Honestly, I was in such shock that I said "uh.... ok".

I then clued in, gave him all sorts of reasons why I didn't want it - can't afford it, it would interfere with the french drain that runs along my side of the property line and don't really like them.  He came back with more: he'd limit my cost to $250, he doesn't think the french drain works anyway, the river rock on my property spontaneously jumps over to his yard, and the grass that has sprouted up through the river rock is unsightly.  That last one almost got me.  The truth is, I maybe don't do the best job of ripping the grass out because it's along the side of the house where I never go.  So, I decided to pay the $250 in the name of neighbourly relations.

He's never liked the river rock on my property.... tried to claim last year when the house flooded that the rock on one side of the house caused it.  He's expressed a number of complaints about it since as well.  And, I really, really hate conflict.  I figured that maybe it would just be easier to get the curb and I agreed to let him have his way

And then he knocked on my door the next day.  He said he'd do me a solid, and take that $250 I'd previously promised him.  Instead of the concrete curb, he'd rip out the river rocks and replace it with sod.  He got a resounding no to that, but still went away with the idea that he'd not only convinced me to pay $250 for the concrete curb that he wanted, but that it was going on my side of the property line as well.

I stewed about it for almost a week - lost sleep over it in fact.  Finally, I told a friend about it a couple of days ago, who told me to give my head a shake.  She told me to march over there, and tell him to stuff it.

I didn't do that, but I did knock on his door and advise him that I don't care for the concrete curbs, and that I don't wish to fund his little project.  He reminded me of the jumping rocks, and the spreading grass.  I said that grass is there because he threw seed in the rocks when he was seeding his own lawn and overshot the property line.  He tried to deny it, but I've got the same rock on both sides of the driveway and in the back yard, and no problems with grass anywhere else... nor with jumping rocks.  He couldn't really argue that.

Long story short, I don't have to pay $250 for concrete I don't want, and he's gonna get rid of the grass for me.  Now, if I can just convince him to invest in a pair of swim trunks, life will be golden.

Maybe I'll buy him a speedo, and leave it anonymously at his door.

Speechless

Walking my dogs last night, I encountered a lady with an offleash JRT. I called out to say that my dogs aren't friendly, and ask her to leash hers. She didn't. It charged us. I picked up Cotton, who went Ballistic, and asked her to come get her dog NOW. She wandered my way. I backed away from her dog, the JRT followed and snapped. We were cornered. I yelled out (in maybe not such a nice manner) for her to hurry up. Nothing. So, I turned around, kicked back and booted the dog in the chops. It yipped and ran away. Then she said... wait for it... you shouldn't have such aggressive dogs.

OYE.

The Good-bye

Mayu left today.  She and her class will go to Banff for a day, and fly home to Japan tomorrow.

It's been a great visit, but the truth is that I was a little annoyed yesterday.  I asked her in the morning what she wanted for dinner, and she asked for beef (which is a delicacy in Japan).  I made her a hamburger with all the fixings.  She seemed to enjoy it but after dinner was over, she went into her room and shut the door.  I was on my own for the rest of the night, and feeling frustrated. After the last couple of weeks, I didn't understand why she didn't want to spend time with me.

This morning, we got up and ate a quiet breakfast.  She finished packing, and it was time to go.  I helped her with her luggage and then went to stand in the crowd.    Mayu stood with me, but her friends gathered around and they spoke Japanese.  I'll admit to feeling unappreciated.

When the bus arrived, Ryoko, one of Mayu's friends who had spent a lot of time at my house, came to say goodbye.  Then Nanako, who stayed next door with Jen, came to say her farewells.   Finally, I turned to Mayu.  I told her how great it had been to meet her, that I had had a wonderful time, and that I wished her all the best.  She said a simple thank you, and turned to go.  She took two steps before she crumpled to the ground and started to weep.

My stoic girl who had been so quiet and hard to read all this time couldn't be consoled.  She cried for ten minutes, until they boarded the bus and I waved her off as they drove away...  tears running down my cheeks by then as well.

After I came home, I went into the room where she'd been staying, I discovered that she'd left me a gift and a letter.  Where she only had a vocabulary of about 10-15 English words a few weeks ago, she had worked really hard to write three (short) pages of gratitude, and to tell me what she liked most about our time together.    No doubt, it'd taken her hours to write that.  I realize now that that is what she'd been doing last night.

Bird Dog

It was the hottest night of the year, so the little white dog headed out to the front porch - the only place in the yard where he could get both shade and - thank you God - a bit of a breeze.  The little white dog figured that if he was stuck out there, he might as well hunt some birds.

So he donned his blue camouflage coat, to blend in with the not-quite blooming delphiniums.

And then he settled in behind the garden foliage and waited for the birds to arrive.

 He waited...

 and waited....

and waited....

I sure hope the birds get here soon!

Day with the Nephews

My sister was in town over the weekend, and brought her boys along.  She worked almost all weekend, but that gave me an excuse to take the boys out and spend the day with them.

We started off by going for breakfast, and holy cow, was I not ready for the appetites.  Sure, I noticed that they'd both grown in the almost-year since I'd seen them.  The older one must have sprouted up a good 5-6 inches, but it's amazing how they've learned to pack food away.  We went to a local pancake joint - I ate less than half of my egg-filled crepes dish.  They pounded back huge plates of chocolate chip pancakes and apple cinnamon crepes (both with Lots of maple syrup and whipped cream thankyouverymuch!)

Then we went to the market, where we learned about vermicompost (which we all agree I should do... the boys, because they like the idea of their auntie storing worms under her sink, me because a small bag of worm castings cost $15 freaking dollars).   While we were there, we bought some locally grown produce for dinner.    Then we drove out to a U-pick strawberry farm just outside of a nearby town, only to realize that they aren't open yet, due to a late start in the season.  That would have been annoying, but I find that some of our best conversations happen in the car.

Next, I had the slave labour portion of the day scheduled.  I had the boys put on their swim trunks and convinced them that they'd be doing me a huge favour if they would pressure wash my fence so that I could paint it.  Really, I just wanted them to cool off in the +30C temperature.   They seemed to have fun, and thought they looked like ghost busters with the pressure wand.

The reward for all that hard work was a late lunch at the Wok Box, where I declared that it was time for them to master the art of eating with chop sticks.

There may have been some rice and other foods flicked, dropped or otherwise spewed across the table during this little endeavour.  

But we had fun.

We spent the afternoon at the local Nature Centre, where we learned about local birds and saw more swifts and ruddy ducks than we could count.

(not my pictures)

Back to my place we went, where I made secret pasta that they had to taste before I'd tell them what it was.  After they assured me that they loved it - and wouldn't change their minds once they learned the ingredients - I told them it was full of spinach and artichokes. We also had fresh baby carrots and peas from the market, and finally  - FINALLY  - they were full.  So much so, they didn't notice that I didn't offer dessert.

After a long walk with the dogs, we came back home.  They were still pretty hyped up from the day, so I let them watch a few episodes of Avatar - the Last Air Bender to mellow them out.  At 11:00, they crashed on some mattresses on the floor.

Tuktoyaktuk - bound

The heatwave that everybody else seems to be talking about finally hit central Alberta yesterday.  I think it's supposed to reach 31C today.  Everybody is saying that it'll feel like 37C because of the humidex, but I don't think that's necessary.  As far as I'm concerned, anything hotter than 30C, can be summarized as Too Dang Hot.

Cotton Dog agrees.  His cold coat, which he usually only wears on walks during particularly hot days, hasn't come off (other than to be "recharged" with more cold water) in 36 hours.  The dude's hot, and has kindly requested that we move to Tuktoyaktuk forthwith.

Except...  What I didn't plan for is that the coat gets really rather solid when it dries out.  Normally, since it's worn for an hour or so, taken off and then folded up and put away, the fact that the coat becomes stiff like a thin cast doesn't matter.

Last night, Cotton went to sleep the way he normally does - curled up in a tight little ball.  When he woke up a few hours later, he was distressed to realize that his coat was acting like a shell.  He could barely uncurl, and he most certainly couldn't curl up on the other side.  Luckily for him, I woke up and came to the rescue.  Tonight, I'm hoping that we can forego the cold coat so that I don't have to wake up at 3:00am to resoak it for him.

Bad Dog

I keep saying this, but it's true.  Work has been insanely busy.  I'm working long hours and handling more phone calls and questions lately in a day than I used to do in a week.    As a result, I've been letting a few things slide - including the occasional dog walk after work.

Last week, I skipped the Wednesday walk and then it poured rain on Thursday so we didn't go out again.  Friday morning, I was on a call.  I was talking to an analyst who wanted to implement a significant software change that afternoon, and I was trying to talk her off the ledge.  (I'm a Change Manager, FYI... I review and approve IT changes before they are made.)  In general, I don't like changes on Fridays because if they go wrong, there isn't anybody around on the weekend to fix them.  I especially dislike emergency changes on Fridays because less testing and planning has gone into them, so there's more chance of problems.    The worst of them all - and the one that seems to happen without fail - is the emergency change on Fridays before long weekends.  They drive me nuts.

So, I was on the phone with this analyst who was doing her best to convince me that her emergency software change had to go in on Friday afternoon before the vendor's long weekend.    I was reviewing the risk, talking about the testing that had happened and generally making sure that the she had her ducks in a row.

It was all very serious, and things can get intense when an emergency change is going in.  I don't think, however, that the analyst expected me to drop a very unprofessional F bomb.

Lucky for me, I was talking to somebody with whom I'd worked for about 5 years.  She knew it was very atypical for me to do that during work, so she didn't take offence.  Even better, she's got a great sense of humour, and thankfully saw the funny in this right away - long before I did.

You see, as I was talking to her and reading through the documentation provided, I happened to catch sight of a certain poodle in my peripheral vision.  I had thought she was asleep, but she was not.   No, she'd been lying quietly on the bed beside me and very strategically destuffing a $40 pillow.  White fluff was everywhere.

Tallulah has lost bed privileges for the foreseeable future.

But her nightly walks have been reinstated.

The emergency change went in as planned, and reports have confirmed that it was successful.

Even better, the analyst has promised to send me a new pillow.

Stubborn

I've been struggling with the insurance company now for about 10 months.  The lady who processed my claim originally made some blatant errors, which resulted in me getting much less money than I was entitled to for some items, and more than double what I was owed for a few others.  While I'd have happily accept the overage, I got my back up over being shorted over laziness.

For example, two of my purses were damaged during the flood.  I claimed them both and then I happened to find a purse on a great sale before my claim was processed.  I was refunded for that one right away, but then the claims adjuster forgot or omitted  the second purse when she finally finished processing my claim.

When my claim was finally processed, I noticed the error and reported it right away.  The adjuster said she'd add the second purse, but she didn't bother to record the actual replacement value of $60 - she recorded $40, which I'd paid for the first one.

For ten months, I've been fighting about this.  I know it's only $20, but it's MY $20 and all they had to do was to look at the original claim that I submitted to see the mistake that had been made.

Long story short, I finally had enough and had a bit of a come to Jesus chat with the adjuster a few days ago.  As a result, she made a number of corrections to the claim, including confirming that I could have up to $60 for a new purse.

Until now, I have refused to replace the items for which the insurance company had recorded the wrong values, because I wanted to be sure I'd be refunded the full amount.  So, now I have a lot to buy in the next month before my claim is closed.

I don't know why, but I've wanted an orange purse for some time.  It makes no sense, because orange is probably my least favourite colour and it would match only a very small percentage of my clothes.  But, I wanted an orange purse.

There's a store in town that has a pretty great purse selection and I went there tonight.  As soon as I walked in the door, I zeroed in on a beautiful orange purse.  It was a good size, and had lots of pockets in the right places.  It seemed to be well made.

It cost $41.

The truth of the matter is, I stood there and realized that after fighting that battle with the insurance company, I simply did not want to submit a claim for a new purse for $40.  I'd fought to get up to $60, and told them repeatedly how unreasonable only $40 for purse would be.  And when I get a bee in my bonnet, it can be difficult for me to back down.  I'm a little bit embarrassed to admit that I came home with a black purse that cost $55.  

It's a nice purse.  It's also the right size, and it has lots of pockets in the right places.  It'll go with just about everything, and I won't get sick of its colour.    I think, however, that I'm going to bring it back tomorrow and trade it in for the orange purse.

Dumb Like a Fox

Tallulah talks to me.  She may not speak, but she's very clear in her communication.  If she's hungry, she paws her food bowl.  If she's thirsty, she paws her water bowl.  If she wants outside, she stands at the door and barks.  If I open the door and she doesn't want outside, she takes a giant step back.  I'm pretty confident that I understand what she's trying to tell me most of the time.

Cotton, on the other hand, is not the best at communication.  If he wants something, he stands and stares at me until I figure it out.  The Stare can mean hunger, thirst, a need to go outside, boredom or pretty much anything else.  His stare and my resulting guessing game have been what we've done his entire life.

On top of this, I suspect that Cotton's not 'all there' anymore.  He's good when he's got his routines, but his mind wanders, he gets distracted easily and I get the distinct impression lately that he's not always quite sure what's going on.

This morning, for instance, Cotton came to stare at me.  He generally gets a freeze dried chicken breast in the morning, so, I got up to get the dogs their chicken.  Tallulah gets hers in the kitchen.  She gobbles hers down in seconds and has been known to then steal from Cotton, so I take his chicken to his crate for him.  Usually, he gnaws on it for about 10 minutes before it's gone.

This morning, I put Cotton's chicken in the back of his crate and then went into a different room.  A moment later, I noticed him at my feet, staring at me again.  I figured that I'd distracted him by leaving the room (his crate is behind my desk so he's used to me sitting there while he eats) so I finished what I needed to do and then brought him back to his crate.  ... and found a certain poodle lying down with her head shoved inside, licking up crumbs.

My first reaction was to just let it go.  If Cotton doesn't want his chicken taken from him, he shouldn't leave it unattended.  But, the Dude stood at my feet for the next 20 minutes and stared at me.   Clearly, since he stared at me that long, he must have needed/wanted something.  I checked the food and water bowls and offered to let him out.  None of that was what he wanted.  I figured that he was upset about having his chicken stolen, and that he wanted me to replace it.  So I eventually gave in to the puppy dog eyes and I got him another chicken.

This time, I closed the door to the room to lock Tallulah out.  I tossed Cotton's chicken into the back of his crate, and watched him climb in to get it... and saw him inhale the whole thing in 30 seconds.

I think the little bugger conned me into giving him extra piece of chicken today.

Retribution, and a little worry.

Friday night at about 11:30, my neighbour heard a bang against his window.  He looked outside and realized that kids were throwing eggs at his house.  He got up, threw on some sweats and hightailed it outside.  Their house is on the corner, and he could see that the kids had egged the front, side and back of the house.

By the time he got out there, they were working their way down along the alley in the back.  Knowing that if they saw him coming down the alley that they'd hightail it out of there, he hopped into the truck he had parked out front, drove down the street in front and around  to park and wait for them at the other end of the alley.

When they arrived, he turned on his truck lights (saw a bunch of eggs magically fall from their pockets) and approached them.  It was a group of four 12 and 13 year olds, if you can believe it.   They were having a sleep over at the one kid's house, and had decided to walk over to the local Macs store to pick up some late night snacks (and apparently some eggs).   He handed the ringleader his cell, and told him two make two calls:  the first to his parents, and the next to the RCMP.

The first call didn't go so well.   The mother denied very strongly that her kid would do anything wrong, let alone egg somebody's house.  She couldn't believe my neighbour's nerve, that he'd accuse her little angel.  She promptly got off the phone and drove down to meet them on the street, where she tore a strip off of him for accosting her child and his friends in the middle of the night.

Luckily, the second call went better.  The little angel had the honor of reporting himself to the RCMP, and then handing the cell phone back to my neighbour.  He's a traffic cop, so when he explained the situation, the RCMP arrived right away.  After they calmed the mother down, the RCMP constable had a chat with the kids and low and behold, got them to confess.  (As if the pile of broken eggs at their feet wasn't enough.)

The police wanted to charge the little buggers, but my neighbour didn't see the benefit to that.  He said that they're young and stupid, but there's no sense in giving them criminal records.  At that age, and fines that they were charged with would have to be paid by their parents.  So, instead he made arrangements for the kids to return in the morning to clean up the mess.

Saturday morning, there was a bit of excitement when a police car, two parents and four kids arrived with scrub brushes, soap and water in hand.  They scrubbed the house front to back.  One mother who was there went to personally apologize to my neighbours.  She explained that her son had only just started to hang out with the other boys this year, and that they'd met through their hockey league... and she said they won't be spending any more time together in the future off the ice.  Her son had apparently sworn up and down that he hadn't thrown any eggs, and although she believed him,  she wanted him involved in the cleanup because he should have spoken up and stopped them.  Then, once her son was finished with his cleaning, she rolled up her sleeves and did it again (saying she wanted the cleanup to be perfect.)

The other mother - the one who tore a strip off of my neighbour, and denied her son's involvement - stood on the sidewalk with her arms crossed the whole time.  She didn't say anything my neighbours (not even to apologize for her own behaviour the the night before) or the kids.   In fact, they almost had the impression that she was there more to protect her child than she was to make sure he cleaned up his mess.   The other two kids showed up without parents...  since charges weren't laid, we don't even know if their parents were informed of their nocturnal activities.

Kids do stupid things... I did my own fair share.  (Although, I never egged or TP'd anybody's house.)   I don't begrudge kids who push their boundaries - in fact, I expect it to a certain level.  I do question a lot of parents out there, though.  Why would anybody think it's OK to let a group of four 12/13 year old boys wander the streets at 11:30 at night?  And when they do go out and do something stupid, why wouldn't you get involved, apologize for your lack of guidance, and then work with your kids to make sure that they learn better?  I've got to say that, except for the kid with the one seemingly involved mother, I don't hold out a lot of hope for the other three.

The Hangup

I was in two special classes in Junior High.  For one, I was taken out of half of my Language Arts classes so that I could sit in the special needs classroom and draw words with my finger in a box of sand.  The school did this because my spelling didn't progress beyond that of a kid in grade five, and they didn't realize at the time that autocorrect would be here to save the day.

In a fit or irony that the school never clued into, I was also taken out of the remaining Language Arts and some History classes to attend a class called "Challenge".  I was enrolled in that class because apparently my IQ was too high and they needed way to keep me.... well, challenged.  (I can say this without bragging because a later knock on the head divested me of any surplus brain cells that I might have had, and left me struggling to maintain an average IQ.)  Each year for Challenge, I was assigned to whatever teacher happened to have a free period during my language arts and history classes.  They gave me tasks   to keep me occupied during this time so that I'd then have to work harder - on my own time - to keep up with the classes that I'd be removed from.

In grade 8, I was assigned to the high school biology teacher.   The projects that he gave me were to dissect things - I started small with squids and frogs, and moved up to a shark and a pig.  Being the daughter of a physician, I was OK with the dissection.  What I wasn't OK with was that following the dissection, the teacher fired up the bunsen burners, and expected me to cook and eat the remains of some of the animals.

I'll pause here to let you think about that a little bit and let it sink in.

It's probably enough said on the subject, and sufficent explanation about why I am so selective when I eat meat.

I don't eat anything in it's original form, so roasted chicken or turkey is out, as would be most seafood if I wasn't already allergic to it.  I don't eat anything that has bones, skin, visible blood vessels, fat or grissel.   And because I've got a vivid imagination, don't eat anything like hot dogs or processed meats that are likely to contain any of the above.  When I cook with meat, I almost always start with it frozen, because otherwise the texture of it grosses me out.

Most days, I find it easier to skip the meat than not.  When I do eat it, I limit myself to boneless, skinless chicken breasts or cuts of bison.  The meat that I buy comes from a store that  specializes in organic meat from animals who have been raised humanely.  He doesn't sell anything that can't be cut up with a sharp knife (ie - no hidden gross parts), and he's willing to let me pick out a roast that he'll grind while I wait so that I know exactly what I'm eating.