SAVED BY A BEER!

Photo credit Amy Reynolds


A Grade 1 tornado came roaring through our area on Friday. What is so unusual is that tornados are NOT usual here. The last one that was even remotely close to us occurred in June 1888, according to some history buffs, and it was still about 70 miles away.

My DIL, who works in an explosives factory, had mentioned earlier in the day that the Weather Network was broadcasting the possibility of tornados. My son laughed at her. That doesn’t happen here, he told her. She still stressed that I was to take the boys to the basement if there be any sign of such weather.
I picked up my oldest rug rat from school at 4 PM, and then we both went for his two little brothers who were in daycare. After supper, we went outside to play for an hour or two; it was a beautiful afternoon. We went inside for bath time at 7 PM. My DIL arrived from work at 7:30; it had just started to rain, and a wind was blowing, but nothing dramatic. Being in the same mind set as my son (tornado not likely!), and knowing that he would be home from work too within the hour, I headed to my bush. The doggies would be hungry.

By the time I hit my bush road, it was POURING rain. I felt my truck shift as I took a curve. Whoa, I thought, skidding. Too much water on the road. I reduced speed, then realized that it wasn’t water but the wind that was pushing my truck around. I was close to the house, so other than lifting my awareness a notch, I wasn’t much alarmed. It stopped raining 5 minutes after I pulled into my garage. The wind was still quite brisk, and the clouds were low and dark, but I’ve seen worse. Within the half hour the dogs had eaten and we were out taking a walk. All was well.....in MY part of the county. At that same moment my poor DIL was trembling in her basement with the children, without electricity, hearing the terrible noise of the wind...experiencing her first tornado. She was also extremely worried about my son. He would be out on the road in this gale, driving back from his job, which is an hour’s trip west.

Her worry was well founded. Any other night, my son would have been caught on a road at the exact time the tornado ripped through there. That area was badly damaged, with hydro poles broken and down, trees uprooted, and silo tops torn off. However, halfway home, he had stopped to meet one of his friends for a quick beer. It may have saved his life. When he realized what had happened, with his usual route impassable, he called his family, and was relieved that everyone was okay.

I had an early bedtime, so was blissfully unaware of the event until the next morning. The only casualty was a small calf that was crushed under the debris of a crumbled barn. There is plenty of material damage, which is devastating, but it could have been worse. I shudder when I think of how close my son came to being in extreme danger.

He starts his ‘weekend’, or days off, as of tonight. When he gets home, I think I’ll drive over there and we’ll have a beer together, lifting it in a toast to those angels looking over us.

And yes, we’ll be SMILING!!


Luv from the Bush in Quebec.

AND NOW THIS....

Smooch, looks big here but is still just a sassy, playful puppy.

Yesterday morning was a ‘breakfast with the rug rats’ day, which means I’m up at 4 AM. I like to be fully awake, first for the drive to my son’s house, and then to greet the boys who hit the floor running at 5:30 AM. I had only been sleeping for a couple of hours, so was slightly grumpy when I woke with a terrible thirst to find that I had forgotten to fill the water glass beside my bed. I struggled out from under the blankets, picked up my glass and headed for the kitchen, muttering silently to myself. Because I was still dozy, I failed to remember that everything happens for a reason.


When I opened the kitchen door, it took a moment for me to take in what had happened. The first thing I noticed was that little Smooch was up, and came slowly shuffling (that’s how we describe the pup’s walk) towards me, head and tail down. The next thing was the sh*t (and was that vomit?), literally spread all over the floor. Even as I stood gaping, the pup was heaving again at my feet. I made a step towards the side door to let him out, but it was too late....and when I saw what he spewed, it struck terror in my heart.


Blood. Bright, red blood. A second look at the loose feces all around us showed blood too, and plenty of it.


The next few moments are slightly hazy. The poor little tyke made his way weakly to the door, but waited for me to go down into the dark with him as he vomited twice again. I already had the phone in hand, and stood outside shivering in my pyjamas as I tried to reach a vet. Our small community doesn’t have emergency service for domestic animals, I was told, but they did give me a number for a 24 hour service in Laval, which is about an hour’s drive from here. Somehow I managed to reach that number, get directions, text my grandson for help (who was sleeping over at his girl’s place...so didn’t answer right away, duh!), get dressed, do a swift and rudimentary cleanup in the kitchen, wrap up Smooch, who was trembling from exhaustion, and we were on our way.


The pup hates a leash; in fact he gets very hyper when he even sees one. He will, however, follow Grump voluntarily, and Grump listens well, so I had both dogs in the car as we barrelled towards the Laval clinic. In spite of never having been there, I knew the general area, and we made it in 45 minutes. At that time of night there isn’t much traffic on the road, nor police either, thankfully!


Smooch is still at the hospital. They were running tests to see if it’s a virus, which they doubt (he already had 2 of the 3 necessary vaccinations); or a gastro disease, or if maybe he swallowed something sharp that has perforated his stomach and intestine. In short, they don’t know yet what is happening. He seemed better when they called me yesterday at noon, then they called back at 3 PM to tell me that no, he was vomiting again, and they’re keeping him on antibiotics as they do more extensive tests.


Fred woke at 3:30 AM, read the ‘Urgent’ text on his phone, and called me immediately. There was really nothing he could do, but it was soothing just to hear his voice. I did make it back to my son’s house 5 minutes before his ride came to pick him up, and the rug rats were already awake. Their antics kept me from worrying myself into frenzy. My Cuban Suzie, who comes in to help for the business twice a week, and Fred, showed up not long after I got home, and they kept me grounded as I scrubbed the floor, finding more blood. At one point, Grump curled up on the couch beside me, and we both fell into a much needed sleep.


I have a long-awaited meeting in the city with another problem client this morning at 11 AM, and then will stop at the clinic on the way home.


I know you are all wishing me luck as you read this, because that’s the way friends are. It’s the love and support that we need, and that thought helps me keep my SMILE.


Luv from the Bush in Quebec.

MOTHER'S DAY

My oldest rug rat, N., with his little dog Weegie

My youngest son and his lady were still on night shift, so wouldn’t be joining us for the Mother’s Day lunch. I picked up the two oldest rug rats; it would give mummy a chance to rest. Tao, the youngest, is suffering from earaches again, and her hours of sleep are short. Besides, I hadn’t seen the boys since early Friday morning, and was beginning to suffer rug rat withdrawal.


Because they were hungry, the children had been served earlier than the rest of us, and N. was finished eating just as my meal arrived. He waited for about 10 minutes before asking me if I was going to ‘eat my whole plate’.


“Why do you ask?” I queried.


“I want to go home now. I don’t feel good.” He answered. I lifted my eyebrows in surprise. Maybe the fish he had eaten was bad? Yet – this restaurant was very busy, and had an excellent reputation. I was pretty sure that all food was fresh.


“You don’t feel good?” I repeated, studying him closely. He shook his head, but he didn’t look sick to me.


“Or maybe,” I asked slowly, “it’s just because you want to go home now?”


He nodded, twisting his hair around his finger as he said aloud, “Yes.”


This oldest child of my youngest son is a very introverted and sensitive person. Surrounded by familiar things is where he is most comfortable. He’s still young to be forced out of his comfort zone, yet my meal had just arrived, and I didn’t want to leave immediately. I decided to try a compromise.


“How about if you and M’mère take a walk outside? Maybe the fresh air would help you feel better?” He thought it over for a second then pushed back his chair, nodding his assent.


The sun was shining, so our short stroll was pleasant. While chatting about this and that, N. reminded me that we were to stop and get a flower for his mummy on the way home. It was an ‘Aha!’ moment.


“Is that why you want to leave now? So Mummy can get her flower?” His answer was another nod.


“Well then, M’mère will have time to eat her lunch, because mummy was going to sleep while Tao has his nap. We don’t want to wake her up.”


"But Tao has been sleeping a long time today,” answered this very astute young grandson of mine. “They’ll both be awake now.” I suspected that he was right. A new plan of action was needed. Somehow I convinced him that M’Mère would eat as quickly as possible, because I was really, really hungry, and then we would go to buy the flower. He reluctantly agreed and we re-entered the restaurant. I don’t think my dogs have ever watched me that closely as I finished what I could from my plate. Fortunately for us both, I don’t have a big appetite!


I remember...thirty minutes seems like forever to a child. Even the excitement of choosing his mother’s flower didn’t keep him from remarking that the way home seemed much longer than before. When we did arrive, it took him all of two seconds to jump out of the car and run into the house, so happy to offer his gift. Mummy was duly surprised and appreciative, and the joy in his smile made up for any indigestion which would probably result from my gobbling my meal.


I only stayed a few minutes – my other children were heading to my house on leaving the restaurant. N. was upstairs in the bathroom when I said my goodbyes and walked out to my truck. I had just opened the truck door when I heard him call out, “M’mère?” I looked up, and there was his sweet face in the open window, a huge grin on a happy little boy. He waved. “Bye M’mère!” he yelled.


Of course I SMILED all the way home.


Luv from the Bush in Quebec.

THE MESSAGE

Now there's a SMILE! My youngest rug rat, Tao, still wearing his breakfast at 5:30 AM!!


The big, bad monster was holding their brother hostage. The two super heroes jumped it! With much ferocious growling from the monster, and screams and giggles from the attackers, bodies were thrown here and there, pell-mell, fortunately landing on the soft mattress or bouncing onto forgiving couch cushions. The superheroes’ mother walked in from work and ended the scene. The monster, although enjoying herself immensely, realized that muscles and bones were going to hurt later...the interruption was appreciated.


It was 7:00 AM. After hugs and kisses, I headed for home to doggies who were as energetic at that time in morning as were the rug rats I had just left. The rain didn’t deter the beasts from insisting on a morning romp, so I donned raincoat over jeans over p.j.’s, and outside we went. The phone was already ringing when we entered the house an hour later. The work day had begun.


‘Complete rest!’ the doc had said.


Right.


She was talking to the wrong person. Not only I am no longer in a position financially to do nothing at all, but it would drive me up a wall; send me completely around the bend. So I compromised. I decided to do more of what I LIKED to do. Work was cut down; babysitting the rug rats while the parents did shift work stayed...as did the doggies, of course.


What else? I have to write more. It’s another thing I enjoy doing. And sleep when I feel the need. And cook – then eat as regularly as possible.


My recipe for curing burnout: Take 3 young lads aged 6 and 4 and 1; add 2 rambunctious doggies; throw in some wild playing, some long walks outside, some caring friends and family; stir it all together. While it simmers, tell a couple of civil servants to take a hike (politely), some deadbeat clients to do the same, sit out in the sun, read some good books....and remember why you’re here.


Having long ago despaired of possessing any particular talent to offer this world, I had decided my ‘purpose for being’ was to be Happy; the capital letter deliberate. Happiness spreads – there is nothing quite as contagious as a sincere smile, emphasis on the word ‘sincere’, and there is nothing more fulfilling (to me) than to see a sad and/or angry expression react in surprise, watch the light come into eyes, and an answering smile shine through. You know that you have helped that person a little; handed him/her a touch of joy. It’s my favorite rush.


My dilemma was that in spite of knowing this, my state of mind would not permit me to act. My recipe wasn’t working. Then I received the message.


It was late Thursday afternoon. My Cuban Suzie and I were shuffling papers in my home office when the dogs began to bark; the ‘Beware-stranger-come now!’ noise. Standing on the stairs, but careful to stay behind the gate out of the reach of the noisy animals, was a man waving a paper. Another bailiff – the third I had seen in the past month. My ex-partner’s fiasco was landing on my doorstep.


Suzie was just leaving, and I caught the sympathy in her eyes as she hugged me goodbye. I felt any energy drain away. Alone now with the doggies, I threw the paper on the table without reading it, then numbly grabbed a beer from the fridge. ...and let my mind slide into neutral.


I’m not sure when I fell to sleep, but it was early. I woke up around 2 AM, thirsty, but surprisingly rested. It was two coffees later when I steeled myself and picked up the paper to read it. When I saw the file number, composed of 4 numbers and 3 letters, it hit me like a rap on the head. I stared, then started to laugh. I couldn’t wait to make calls in the morning.


The female lawyer’s voice was quite ‘official’ when I reached her. I told her who I was, advised her that I had received her papers, and I’m sure she couldn’t help but hear the glee in my voice when I offered to read her the file number. She probably thought I was drunk, although it was only 10 AM.


“Number xxxxxx,” I said. “And that is followed by the letters, GOD!” I laughed into the phone. “Now, ma’am, I know I’m ahead on this one with such a file number!! What could anyone possibly do to me?”


Maybe it was my delight, or was it her astonishment when confirming the file reference which, she told me, is computer generated? Whatever – it set the mood for our conversation, and we hung up with her affirmation that things would be looked into.... both of us still laughing.


The next five calls I made were ones I had been putting off for similar reasons. Although the special file number was not part of those conversations, my attitude remained the same, with the result that each conversation ended in laughter too. There were no exceptions.


I am not religious, but I am spiritual. I had been praying for a boot in the butt to get me out of that desperate grey hole where I’ve been living lately. My answer was delivered instead with humor – from the least likely place one would expect it – with a bailiff yet!!! Instead of a boot, it was a gentle shove....and a huge SMILE!


I’m still SMILING, and sharing it with y’all!!


Luv from the Bush in Quebec.

THE VERDICT

‘Just missing the ‘T’ for it to be a complete burnout. ‘

I suspected it before I heard the verdict. I’ve been there, done that. It was one thing that scared the heck out of me. Emotions, body, sight and sound...everything goes numb.

The vacation opened the valve that was so carefully kept closed. Although spoiled generously by the kids who were with me, I was too tired to enjoy it as I should. To be sure there was better sleeping and eating than I did at home, and hours of solitary reflection in a beautiful setting, but it all seemed to be surface only; nothing was being felt deeper where it was needed. I began to worry.

Although the house smelled like a stable when I arrived home (Smooch is still not fully house-trained), the welcome received from the doggies was all anyone could want. It took me more than an hour to return their enthusiasm, wash the floor, and go for a short trek with them outside.

Then a bonus – Suzie was here! This wonderful best friend called to tell me her house in this area had been robbed, so she would be around for a couple of weeks to deal with police, claims, etc. We’d be seeing each other on the ‘morrow. I crawled into my own bed that night feeling that my worry was a false alarm – I was much better – things were going to be okay.

The next morning, I sat my desk and stared at a piece of blank paper. But wait ...it wasn’t blank. There was writing on it, numbers, but I couldn’t understand a damned thing, and couldn’t remember what I was supposed to do with it. My brain shut down. Okay, so I was tired. I moved away from my office, went for a walk with the delighted doggies, came back and snuggled up with them on the couch. A snooze should put me on track.

I went back to that paper four times during the day. Each time I looked down at it without picking it up, then walked away. It’s not that I didn’t want to do the work; I actually couldn’t even force myself to touch it again.

What was worse was that I didn’t care.

The visit at Suzie’s helped some. She fed me, chatted, made me laugh. I watched her watching me, but also knew she wouldn’t pry, but would wait for me to tell her what was wrong. I didn’t...not that night. I decided that it was back to the ‘one step at a time’ thing, the ‘tomorrow is another day’. I could make it happen. I always do.

And it worked, for a day. The constant ringing of the telephone became a white noise. An added request from a client, and my mind stopped. The hamster fell of its wheel. I turned everything off – telephone, computer, fax, the radio, even every light in the house, and went to bed. I stayed there for the rest of the day and the night. I remembered to feed the dogs around 3 AM. By this time my kids and Suzie, who had been trying to contact me, were getting frantic. I was sinking into a fuzzy cloud of grey. Fred came home and found me crying. I didn’t even realize that I was until my daughter texted for the umpteenth time and warned me to get back to her or she’d be coming here.

It was a wicked few days and the diagnosis just confirmed what we already knew. Steps needed to be taken. The first thing was food and sleep. Suzie made sure I ate one good meal a day, and I was in bed, at least relaxing, right after a short walk with the dogs. The client’s added request was refused definitely; two more clients are with other accountants now, and most of the income tax forms were farmed out to be done elsewhere too. I kept some work – I do need income – but the load has lightened. I get up from my desk every other hour and drowse. Slow but sure is the ticket now.

And I’m SMILING again!!!

Luv from the Bush in Quebec.

HOLÀ

THE GROUP PICTURE FROM MEXICO

These are my boys & girls. My natural born daughter is the little blonde standing with the sunglasses. My natural son is 3rd from right standing in the back row, with glasses & cap, and just in front of him is our little Yoshiko (his wife), also in sunglasses. The boys, while growing up, have lived at one time or another in my home for various reasons before moving on. The girls here are their wives, except for the 6' blonde kneeling on the right. She's my second daughter - has been part of our family since she became my daughter's best friend at 5 years old.

And I am the one covered up because of the nasty sunburn. (That's my story and I'm sticking to it!!)


And yes after a super week - I'm back, and head over heels in work. It was a fun trip - I was treated like royalty - the doyenne, a term one of the boys used, telling me it was a superior mother figure. I googled it anyway when I got back home, just in case.....

I have been into Blogit reading. Thought of you all often while visiting the Mayan ruins, while watching the Coco Bongo show (a frightening hoot), but especially while sitting quiet on out the resort deck admiring the palm trees and bright flowers and fluo-colored birds!!

Will write as soon as I can to tell you more. Sending you tanned and happy SMILES!!!

Luv from the Bush in Quebec

I came this close

(photo courtesy of Photobucket)
to not leaving for my Mexican vacation this weekend. None of my doggie-sitters worked out.

My son and daughter were showing signs of exasperation. They know me so well. They were thinking that if I was worried about the dogs, I would NOT have a good time. In fact, the only thing on my mind would be to come back home, pronto!

My friend, Susie (the Cuban one), who has been working with me a couple of days per week, knows me even better.

“You’re not going, are you?” she stated more than asked yesterday. I had just described the kennel visit done on Sunday; one room smaller than my office with no windows, where both dogs would be shut away with nothing to do or see except an hour’s run outside in the fenced area twice a day. The people were fine – they are friends of my daughter and love dogs...but it is a kennel after all, and they have to divide their time among the many animals they are boarding. The other places, with individual runs where a dog has access to outdoors whenever he wants, are prohibited to accept pit-bulls because insurance companies will not cover them.

Just picturing Grump-puppy stuck in there for 8 days was undoing me. In all his 6 years of life, he has never been shut away, except in our own huge house (where he was on guard duty) with humongous windows. What would be going through his mind? He’s such a sensitive and loving animal...he wouldn’t understand. Trauma with a capital ‘T’, and who in hell wants a traumatized pit-bull?

Smooch is just a puppy, still learning to trust that his mistress. Endowed with a very strong character, he is responding well to my training. Add that to mentoring by the passive Grump, his reactions suggest that he will be an outstanding dog. A puppy is made or broken in the first six months; the last thing he needs is a bad experience.

Susie was right; although I wasn’t looking forward to telling my kids, I had decided that I couldn’t do this to my dogs. I was staying home.

My neighbour, master of the beautiful Louka and my lovely Sally, saved the day...or rather, saved my vacation. Late last night he informed me that he will be working in the immediate area for the next month. Between him and his sister, also known and liked by my doggies, Grump and Smooch will be visited six to seven times during the day, let in and out, fed, watered, and played with when needed.

Alrighty then!!! Vayamos to Mexico!!

What do you think? Am I SMILING????? Count on it – and you are welcome to share it with me!

Luv from the Bush in Quebec.