HODGE PODGE OF INFO!

My new tenant, Grandson F.
And my helper. He chopped for four straight hours!

Some weekend! Saturday was used to do laundry and housework, a little extra in that department because I am also preparing for my trip out west, which includes getting my house ready for my dog sitters. It won’t be my brother this time. Fran isn’t around, and I don’t want him stuck out here in the bush alone, without a vehicle, and not feeling the best anyway. Line, one of my co-workers, and her significant other will be doing the honours. Line has slept over here often; she’s a partner for the senior homes (which are still on the drawing board) and both dogs know her well. She lives in a compact condo downtown in old Montreal, and she assures me that it will be a treat for her to spend the 5 days here; fireplace, Jacuzzi, wide open spaces, room to run around…all good for a change.

Speaking of change, my daughter has put her house up for sale (after being there for under a year) and is planning to buy another closer to her youngest boy’s school. He is our sports dude, and Shan is constantly on the road either for school, for hockey, for soccer…this way she will be more central to all the activity and it will cut down hugely on the constant travel. But – her oldest, who was renting her basement, wants to stay in this area. He is often away working, but his home base will now be the apartment in his M’mère’s house (that’s me!). I was delighted when he asked, of course said yes, and he came by during the day to take a good look at it, and to clean a space out in the garage for his car.

Back to the present. We lost another person to suicide yesterday. The poor fellow had no money problems. He’s lately retired from a lifelong job, a good one, and was caring for his elderly mother. It seems he was wishing he had kept working – felt his life no longer had purpose. How sad. The man was only 55 years old.

A few days ago, one of my neighbours borrowed my backhoe to help set up his tempo (plastic garage) and returned the favour by dropping off a pile of cedar lengths. It’s the best wood for kindling, so I was quite happy with the exchange. It needed to be chopped into small pieces, and I contacted my deceased friend’s young lad who often helps me when strength is required. He has been out there swinging the axe for the past four hours. My brother (his ‘adopted’ dad) came over for the day too, to supervise, he called it, but I strongly suspect it is mostly because he needed the company.

The chopping had just begun when my friend, Helen, showed up, proud as punch, to take me for a drive in her brand new 2011 Jetta. She will be turning 70 in January, and this is the first new automobile she has ever owned. That lady has worked hard all her life, has helped so many people for so long, and can you believe it? She was feeling guilty about spending HER money on something for HERSELF! It was a nice ride, and I am thrilled for her!

My youngest son (the daddy of my 3 rug rats) has been in bad pain for a couple of weeks now. The doctors suspect diverticulitis, rare enough for someone as young as J., but can’t be sure until the swelling goes down and further testing can be done. He spent most of today at the hospital again, and his energy level is very low. Mom is worried, and not too crazy about flying halfway across the country when one of her children is sick, although I doubt he’d appreciate having me hover around as if he was a little tyke, especially for tests of that particular nature, LOL!

My grandson has just arrived to put his car in the garage. He’s leaving for the Gaspésie tomorrow morning, where he will spend 10 days working before coming back for the 5 days off. I’m going to try to feed him some supper, so wish you all a good evening, and you know, as would any grandmother who gets to spoil her grandson, that I am SMILING! Sharing it with you!!

Luv from the Bush in Quebec

THE LOST COOKIE-WOMAN

(Picture courtesy of Readers Digest Cookie Book)
Did I tell you that I’ve lost my cookie-woman? I blogged about her delivering all those homemade goodies just before Christmas last year; the new neighbour who wasn’t quite sure why her family had moved here – other than it was her husband’s idea. A spur-of-the-moment thing; a pipedream; a decision made without considering what an enormous change it would be for his teenage sons, his little daughter who was unwilling to transfer to a new school in mid-term, and his wife who would now have to travel nearly 2 hours each way to her job. A ‘citified’ group whose experience in the country consisted of a couple of holiday weekends spent at a cousin’s house, where a good time was had by all, but not enough time to absorb the total difference in country living. Besides, the dude went a step further and bought his house out in the BUSH!

Newsflash, sir! There is no public transport here. You need to drive yourself over snowy, slippery roads for at least 20 minutes if you forget that pint of milk. And you thought your children’s pet kitten would enjoy a stroll in the country air? Another wrong decision. There are wild animals to beware of, and hawks….

Running water is YOUR responsibility; the city has nothing to do with it. Your garbage had better be locked away, because bush animals WILL spread it all over the yard, over and over again. Red pepper is not a deterrent; they’ve seen worse. Black flies? Well no, I’ve never heard of any product to get rid of them. One gets used to it, or stays indoors, and you wear long sleeved shirts during that season no matter how nice the weather is.

When the electricity fails (often – tree branches on the wires, etc.), the areas with higher population get repairs first; being isolated as you are now means your house is last on the list, so you wait…and wait…and wait. Yes, generators are an expensive and noisy option.

High speed internet needed to download games and the films your sons live for? Sorry, not available. That could be part of the reason why the boys now spend most of the time at their friends’ places in town.

One more thing – people living in the bush are there because they actually like being solitary. We don’t hang out in each other’s houses everyday; very little chitchat goes on; and there is no telling each other’s life story at the drop of a hat.

And certainly, when checking out the place before buying it, you noticed that the numerous dogs were running loose? And you thought what? That they would be tied once you moved in??? By the way, here in the Bush, if you have a problem with a neighbour, you first go see that person to talk it out. You do NOT write letters of complaint to the municipal authorities, and you do NOT call the police unless all else fails.

Does the above sound mean-spirited? Unfortunately, it’s just the simple truth. The man did not use Kilroy’s TTT method (Think Things Through), and everyone in his entourage was paying for it. Fortunately, none of the above involved me directly. I heard about it off and on from my other neighbours. I was only aware of their leaving after seeing the ‘For Sale’ sign on the property, and that happened nearly a month after they had already gone. At one point, during their stay here, my agency offered the wife a job in this area, but she refused. I guess she was already working on moving back to the city. On the rare occasions that I did see her, each time by the central mailbox, she seemed to have lost her smile. I got the impression that her family was falling apart, and she didn’t like it. I had finally met her husband and hadn’t been impressed. Too buddy-buddy for me.

I’m happy for my cookie-woman. I’ll bet that she is thankful to be back in familiar territory. I’ll remember her this Christmas; delivering her cookie tins was a nice gesture, and her shortbread melted in your mouth! I guess I’ll have to make my own this year. That’s okay. I enjoy baking, and I’ll be thinking of her, certain that she is SMILING now, as she prepares little cookie tins for her new neighbours….

Luv from the Bush in Quebec.

AND ON THIS WEDNESDAY

My rug-rats in the Jacuzzi

I could tell by my brother’s voice he wasn’t feeling well at all. He rarely calls me at the office, so when the receptionist told me he was on the phone, I knew something was wrong. He said he ‘wasn’t bad’ when I asked, but the dude has to be literally dying before he’ll admit it – he’s doesn’t want me to worry.

Right!

He was in pain. That hole in his throat is causing all sorts of problems, one of them being re-occurring pneumonia. His appointment for the lung scan is only on my return from Saskatoon – two weeks away. However, he will be seeing his family doctor early in the morning of my departure. I’ll have time to go with him and make sure she gives him adequate medication. Suffering is NOT an option! I contacted my youngest son, Jo, who had been on morphine a few weeks ago for a stomach problem. As I suspected, he still had some pills, so he ran them up to his Uncle Bird.

I left the office late, but decided the doggies could wait another hour, and drove on to my bro’s apartment. He was a bit better, he said, and was hoping the donation from Jo would help him pass the night. He’s sleeping now, so I’m keeping my fingers crossed that it will last at least until tomorrow morning when the pharmacy opens.

It had been 11 days since I’d last seen my rug-rats, and I was in the area, so why not? I stopped off at Jo’s place and, sure enough, was rewarded by hugs and kisses from my two little grandsons. The baby was already in bed, but two outta three ain’t bad! N. was happy to tell me that he got a smiley face on his sheet from kindergarten today; a super day, he called it. B. was dancing and singing with the cartoon on the TV when I left. I drove home, smiling all over just from having shared some time with them. They are a no-fail recipe for feeling good!

The doggies were patiently waiting, and gave me the usual exuberant greeting when I arrived at the house. We went for a short walk. There is something magic about the bush in the evening. It was dark but not at all cold outside; the stars were bright in the sky, and it was so quiet and peaceful! Our stroll was just long enough to sharpen our appetites. After our meal I sat on my rocker by the fire in the kitchen/dining area and watched them wrestle (showing off for the mistress), answered the phone a couple of times (I’m on call), then did my stint in the Jacuzzi. Now I’m going to hunt down that Morpheus fellow and take him to bed, LOL!

Hoping you are having sweet dreams, my friends. If you see someone in there with a huge SMILE, it may be yours truly…..who managed to trap Morpheus after all, LOL!

Luv from the Bush in Quebec

NUMBERS OR WORDS?

This one person who has been reading my blogs for awhile sent me an e-mail. “Have you ever thought of writing for a living? If not, you should.” he wrote. I replied with “XOXOXO…” all over the page, adding a footnote that he had made my day. I’d have reacted the same way if someone, in those good old days when I played the game, would have asked the same question, substituting ‘playing professional hockey’ for ‘writing’. Dreams. We all have them; few of us pursue them. We get caught up in the everyday effort of making a living.

My teachers thought I would be working in the writing industry too. Not one of them ever imagined I would end up in accounting, except maybe Mr. Papa – our science/geometry/trig professor. I can remember being ordered to meet him in the library for a serious discussion. It was during the ‘boys-boys-boys’ year. He was adamant about warning me that I was letting things go; my marks were losing ground; I had stopped paying attention; I could and should do better. Because I respected him, and was surprised that he cared (this kind of meeting really wasn’t his style), I listened. He probably had much to do with me being okay today. (Hear that, Auslander?) By the way, he was also the one who was present for our after-grad party, and endured my drunken, maudlin expressions of thanks until I went outside to up-chuck all those rum zombies I had imbued during the evening, LOL!

But back to my coveted e-mail. I have been writing all my life; diaries, letters, little stories, poems, fairy tales for my kids, homemade greeting cards. It’s part of me, even if it’s not the professional part. I usually have three to four stories started, but not completed, at any one time on my computer. I keep thinking that when I retire, I’ll get more serious about it. I’ll do my homework in the writer’s market, send out manuscripts, have more time, etc. I’ll become a writer. The revenues will be a welcome addition to my pension. Okay, noted, but in no way certain. Maybe if I wrote a book on procrastination…but that’s been done. I’ve read bits and parts of it, and it didn’t help at all.

Just for fun, I’m going to copy a few lines of a one of my projects here. Feedback would be nice, but not necessary.

The directions from the anonymous voice had been chilling, but accurate. Fifteen minutes later, they found the body. It was exactly where the caller said it would be, but nothing had prepared them for the state of the cadaver. In spite of the multitude of blowflies, the atrocities were easily discernable. Staring down, the Sheriff fumbled for the handkerchief in his pocket, yanked it out to cover his nose and mouth, forcing himself to keep from gagging. The young rookie made a noise, then turned away and started to retch. Well hidden, the voyeur smiled as he shifted the binoculars. He watched them until the hearse arrived, then crept silently away. He would contact them later that night with another tip, just when they’d be thinking everything was over. It was only beginning.
And that’s it for now folks. I have work to do, dog food to buy. Wishing you all a good day, with many adventures and lots of SMILES!

Luv from the Bush in Quebec.

LOOKING FOR CAESAR.

(This photo is courtesy of Photobucket. I still haven't found the adaptor for my own camera to show you the real Louka, but this doggie could be her twin)

I think my two dogs have made a pact with the neighbour’s two dogs. It used to be that Bud and Grump-puppy would only bark if someone was coming up the driveway and, believe me, they have lots of time to warn me before the intruder reaches the house. Ditto for the hounds across the road. Now, however, if anyone even turns into one yard or the other, the whole four of them raise voice. It has been happening since the beautiful Louka moved in. Not only does she run the show and initiate the squabbles, she also wanders around at night, or sits howling, and gets everybody going when the humans (her servants) are trying to sleep. She’s not into obeying orders; neither those of her master, nor those of the lady who gives her treats (me). A typical husky mix, she believes in doing pretty well what she wants whenever she wants. Ah, Caesar – where are you when we need you??

Speaking of the famous dog-whisperer, he held an event last week at the Bell Center in Montreal, the home of my Canadiens. I missed it (there was a hockey game going on elsewhere) but have heard attendees rave that it was spectacular. The man is not only an expert on canines; it seems he can also put on quite a show. I’m having regrets now. I really should have talked Louka’s master into dragging that gorgeous beast into Caesar’s presence, and maybe everyone around here would have an easier time of it. Don’t get me wrong. I admire a dog with character – just not when its character is stronger than mine! If Louka was human, I strongly suspect that she’d be in the Paris Hilton group, or maybe competition for Lindsay Lohan. Still, one can’t help but love her. She is such a cuddly doggie. A gentle wave of her bushy tail with the sincere, apologetic look from her expressive eyes and we're all convinced to overlook her shenanigans.

My first weekend in November was relatively quiet, especially compared to those of October, where my house was filled with family and friends. I mostly cleaned, just taking time out to meet my ex-associate for an hour, once more to discuss our situation. I regretted the move afterwards, even if it was a necessary evil. The enormous pressure he is under is wearing on him, and his trumped-up excuses cut deep into any respect I still feel for him. It ended with my realizing that he is scrambling, doing and saying anything and everything to avoid paying what he owes. After I walked away, I sat in my truck for at least 20 minutes, analysing what, if anything, was left of our relationship. I discovered that I felt only pity for what has become an extremely sorry excuse for a friend.

But.....

Mother Nature afforded us a sunny, pleasant temperature on the day we turned back our clocks. The Weather Network assures me that the whole week to follow will be similar. Sunshine AND an extra hour of sleep?? Now, how can that not make me SMILE?

Luv from the Bush in Quebec.

THE SCREAM!

Last Thursday I received a few animated Halloween cards by e-mail, one of which made me jump out of my chair. The first scene finds you standing outside an old, haunted house, complete with the ragged trees and full moon partially hidden behind clouds. You walk through the creaking door to the sounds of eerie music, look around the spooky interior, then start up the blood-covered stairs. You know, of course, that something is going to happen, but the horrific scream took me by surprise. It was so LOUD, and blasted out at me when I was halfway through the climb instead of right at the top of the steps. I wasn’t quite prepared, and my reaction nearly knocked over the coffee sitting on my desk, LOL!

It was at that moment a little devil prodded my shoulder.

The receptionist at our office, Jay, is a beautiful, young lady whose family is originally from Haiti. She’s a sweet person, but also what my grandson would call a ‘scardy-cat’. I can still picture the tentative look in her huge, brown eyes when I told her that, no, she couldn’t lock the outside door even if she was alone at the office. What if a client wanted to come in? From where her desk is situated, she was unable to see if anyone was there until the person entered the waiting room.

I knew she was alone there last Thursday. We had talked on the telephone more than once for business purposes. I also figured that there would be no lights on in my part of the office (which is beside Jay’s desk) and remembered that the volume was loud on my work computer. Today’s technology is awesome, isn’t it? I forwarded the Halloween card to my business e-mail address, then logged onto the office server to open it up. I sat giggling as I watched it play on the distant screen, imaging Jay’s reaction when she would hear that chilling scream come out of the dark beside her.

It worked better than I thought! Still laughing so hard that I could hardly speak, I phoned the office. It was on the third ring before she picked up, and whatever she was gasping was unintelligible. By this time I had tears rolling down my face. Finally we both were coherent, and she told me that she was running out the door; that I was lucky that she even came back inside when she heard the phone. Then her words set me off again. “It frightened me so much, I think I turned white!!” she said. My stomach was still hurting an hour after we ended our conversation!

Trick or treat, right? Come to think of it, Jay was the only one of my colleagues who didn’t leave any goodies on my desk! But that’s okay. Our little episode will give us years of SMILES, and those are sweeter than any candy!

Luv from the Bush in Quebec

(picture courtesy of Photobucket)

YOU GOT HAIR!!!

It happens in every family. An event occurs, usual spontaneous, from which is born a saying; something only the people who were present at the time will understand when hearing the phrase years later. In a family as large and as close as mine, we have many of these moments; a slew of inside jokes that will last a lifetime. I’m going to share with you the most recent one.

We were sitting around the remnants of the Thanksgiving turkey, all of us laughing at a story being told by our born comedian, my oldest son Bow. The children were running back and forth, now and then stopping to lean on a chair or against one of the adults, listening in for a bit before scampering away to play again. At this particular moment, Bow emphasised whatever he was saying by uttering a swear word. Amid the gales of laughter, a small voice piped up, "Uncle Bow, you just said a BAD word!” It was my 5 year old grandson, N., who, unnoticed by his uncle, was on the chair right beside him, and was now looking at Bow with censure in his eyes.

Bow threw me a “Oops!” glance. I raised my eyebrows, but remained silent. What would our master of improvising come up with? It took only a second, then, his expression dead-pan serious, he launched into his explanation.

“True, N.,” he answered his nephew. “But Uncle Bow is allowed to say those words now and then because….” We waited in anticipation. Bow rubbed his hand over his bald head as he continued, “well, because I’ve got no hair.”

There were sounds of stifled laughter, and throat clearing, everyone watching N.’s reaction. He was gazing at his adored uncle, his face expectant, listening intently.

“You see, “ Bow leaned over as touched N.’s short locks. “You can’t say those words, because you DO have hair! One day when you’re bigger, and IF you’re bald like Uncle Bow, then you can say them sometimes. Not all the time, mind you, and only if you have no hair…and even then, only sometimes.”

N.’s big brown eyes scanned the table, looking at each one of our heads.

“That’s right, N.!” his uncle exclaimed, knowing the reason for the scrutiny. “They all have hair! The only one allowed to say bad words here is me, your Uncle Bow!”

The laughter was rampant then, and I heard N.’s dad, although just as amused as the rest of us, trying to tell his son that it wasn’t true, nobody should swear, Uncle Bow was joking. Too little, too late.

N., of course, told all this to his mom the next day. She, too, tried to warn him that his Uncle had been pulling his leg. No-one should be swearing. Little did she realize that the trend had been set.

It was a week later. The house was full of family again, this time for Halloween. My daughter and I were playing with the children and, as she turned back towards me, Shan banged her knee on the coffee table. “Ow, sh*t!” she moaned. She immediately caught herself; her hand came up over her mouth and she looked around to see if any of the little ones had heard her. Who else was right there, his eyes wide as he stared up, but N.! She looked at me, at a loss for words.

“Hey!” I told her, pointing to her head. “You can’t swear – you got hair!!” N. nodded his agreement, and repeated it loudly. We waited until we walked back to the table before grinning at each other. “That crazy Bow!” Shan laughed. “This one is going to stay!”

So true! And I can picture it now: somewhere, sometime, somebody swearing for one reason or another, then scratching his head in confusion when a little finger points at him and he is told, “Hey! You can’t say that. You got hair!”

It’s one of those moments where you just have to SMILE!

Luv from the Bush in Quebec.