Kindergarten = LAUGHTER: Part Two

Here we are again. Another school year has begun and I never had time to finish my end of the year blog.  So here are the last few gems from the wees ones.

In Kindergarten, we meet-up on the carpet, to share whatever.  One little fellow tells us that his mother has a plan to get more money.  I, of course, ask him how is she going to do that? That was probably not the question to ask, because he replied, "By taking the garbage into the forest!"  I decided we should quit while we were ahead, and I moved on to another little one.

The art teacher brought back my class, and as they filed past me, I saw, to my surprise, two little girls with BIG moustaches painted on their faces. The art teacher informs me that they were put on by the little ones themselves, during class, with markers. I guess Andrea and Ava did not see the look of "WTH'" on my face, because one piped up, quite proudly, "Yes, and we used the permanent markers ones too! " To which the other added, "And they are the SMELLY ones!" Thankfully, they both returned to class the next day with no evidence of their crime on their faces. LOL

The children were cutting and pasting a sentence onto a worksheet, and then printing the sentence below. ie. The sun is outside the window. I reminded them of the importance of the capital letter at the beginning and the period at the end. More often than not, I sent them back to add the period as they tended to ignore that part of the lesson. I had sent one little blond fellow back twice! The third time he came running up to me, waving his paper above his head, and declares excitedly, "Madame, I got my PERIOD!" 

I had to stifle a huge guffaw... OMG. At recess as I was sharing with my EA what had transpired, and JUST as I said, "I got my period!", the principal shows up in the doorway.  He immediately puts his hands up on each side of the door frame and says, "I don't need to be part of this conversation, do I? THAT is when I allowed myself a really good laugh.

I close with a cute remark from a Grade Five student, as they were entering school on the second last day, during what would be the hottest day of the year.  

WE DON'T WANT TO BE TEACHED TODAY!

My Special Kindergartener… now in Grade One.

Here are a few more conversations I had with Sophie while visiting in May and June.

Moi - Aimerais-tu aller à la messe Sophie? On passait devant une église catholique ou il y avait une messe française le dimanche. Elle me répond "You mean the mess on the ground?" 

I had just read her the story of The Princess and the Pea. Teacher that I am, I had to ask a few comprehension questions, of course. I asked her "Why do you think the princess did not sleep?" To which she answered emphatically, "Because she had to PEE!"

I love hearing her speak French - ie Quoi c'est que ça? J'entends ma tante Dada qui dit ça. 

Sophie hit me from behind with a pool noodle, surprising me, so when I told her she had kind of startled me, she quipped so quickly, "Désolée!" I had never heard her say that word.

Quand je lui ai dit, "Arrête de crier.", elle m'a répondue " I wasn't cri-a-ing."

When I picked her up at school, I remarked on the large number of school buses waiting. She informs me that they are FRENCH buses. 

Jojo, do you want to do an Iron Dance?  I wonder what she means, and then she puts her hands on her hips and starts doing an IRISH dance.

I know how to turn it on, but I am not helping him. (She meant an IPad and she was upset with a little friend, so Mlle wasn't feeling your usual compassionate self.) 

We were cooking lobster we had just bought and Sophie is bouncing around the kitchen, chatting non stop and very dramatically exclaiming. "I am REALLY stressed out. I am friggin' scared of lobster. They are REALLY scary!"

I was giving a little friend a back scratch when Sophie remarked that she was getting a SPA!

When I asked her to tell me ONE new thing she had learned that day at school that she didn't already know, this was her reply.  "I know everything. We do it EVERY DAY!"

Feeling my underarms while sitting beside me as I read her a story, she declared, "Your arms are squishy. There is a LOT of blood in there!"  She was totally fascinated. LOL

Talking about an airplane trip, she informs me that her friend doesn't have a "court pad."  What Sophie meant was "a passport." :)

Aren't grandchildren delightful? Quels trésors sont-ils, nos petits-enfants! 

Kindergarteners EQUAL laughter!

PART ONE:

I had the privilege of spending many days in the same kindergarten class recently, and what fun it was! OMG, I never stopped laughing. When the kids see you laugh, they laugh too, so there is great merriment all around, every day. 

Let me share the more precious memories, some laughs that were bittersweet, that I experienced, all with special thanks to their “real” teacher, who entrusted me with their care and education for a four day week.  

I always remind each class first thing, that while I appreciate their efforts to help me by telling me how THEIR teacher does everything, I need to be allowed to do my job, which I can’t do if they are constantly interrupting me. My speech is usually longer than that, if need be, but that wraps it up in a nutshell. The students end up getting the message, although it may take time.

Witness during calendar time: I had already been interrupted three times as to how Ms. B would do "the calendar" by three different students, and each time I repeated my little speech nicely. With the fourth occurrence, I merely raised my eyebrow in the direction of the offender. He immediately nodded and said, “Yeah, right!" and quickly bowed his head. He was letting me know he had forgotten my message. Too cute and of course, it made me smile. 

One morning I was writing on chart paper, and running out of space, so I dropped a book on the floor, that had been propped up on the chart paper stand. I must NOT have done it quietly enough, because the same little fellow asks,"Why did you throw that book on the floor?"  They are so observant, aren't they?

Ellis, when he proudly showed me his wobbly tooth, I asked, "So you have a loose tooth?", to which he replied, "No, I have a GROWN-UP one!"

"Madame, do you know I am a hunter?" one little darling girl asked me one morning. And she is! 

When listing words that started with the "QU" sound one morning on chart paper, I was prompting my class to give me words with that had this sound at the beginning of the word. I was helping them by giving them clues and describing something that water comes out of, when you point it at someone when it's hot. I finally said the word "SQUIRT" as in gun" because we weren't getting anywhere. They all looked at me as if I were from outer space, and one retorted, "They are called water guns, Madame!" Must be a generational thing....? Never mind I was looking for words starting with QU!

Asking Summer where her name was on her worksheet, she informs me nicely, "Look, my name is ahind it." 

Coming back into the classroom after my lunch break in the staff room, Issac comes running to me, and says,"Madame, you are NOT going to like what I have to tell you!" Of course I chuckled to myself right away. "I am not?" I asked.  I was thinking some fight had broken out during this indoor lunch recess for the kids.  Well, it wasn't quite that. "So do tell me Issac, what am I not going to like?" His response? "Someone took a BITE out of your sandwich!"  I chuckled and chuckled at that one. I didn't HAVE a sandwich. I wasn't even IN the classroom at lunchtime. I think one of the lunchroom monitors had a chunk taken out of THEIR sandwich. Too funny!

A little one from Cameroon, whose first language is French, comes up to me with tears in his eyes, and exclaims, "Johnny got in my road!" I immediately thought, "Oui, c'est certain que dans une classe, quelqu'un sera dans ton chemin, à un moment donné, mon petit."

These kids are so mature when they speak, so adult-like sometimes. Sam comes up to me with a crestfallen face and asks me,"What do you want to hear first? The bad news or the REALLY bad news?" Well, I am almost afraid to choose, but I do, and ask for the bad news first. "I couldn't find Pickpocket out in the yard." Pickpocket is his dearly beloved little stuffed toy. "Oh dear!" I thought. Dreading the REALLY bad news, I still ask for it. With a forlorn expression on his little face, he informs me, "All I could find in the Lost and Found was a BIG garbage bag full of JUNK!" he exclaims. I felt so badly for him. We searched for Pickpocket again, after school, but no luck. :(

This last one is one of those bittersweet stories.  On that note, and realizing that I have been rather long winded, I will leave the remaining, best little stories, for Part 2. 

HAVE A GREAT WEEK! BONNE SEMAINE À TOUS!

    

Kids! What's Not to love? Plus laugh!

The school year is wrapping up. Here are some chuckles I have saved over the last few months. Enjoy!

On a very cold winter day, in the school yard on duty, little Tina runs up to me and says, "Madame, you are all BUNNED up!"

We were doing a body/brain break on You Tube, which was quite a lively dance work-out. The video was ending soon so I let the children know that.  One chubby little sweetie immediately commented with "I  am happy about that!" 

One particular Grade 5 student with whom I have a special bond, and with whom I share seven second hugs the first time I see her in any given day, came up to me after a class in the library one day. She  whispered to me quietly, and almost reluctantly, the following.  "Madame, some students think you are too STRICT!" That made my day!

In music class, when I asked a class of Grade One students if the instrument they had just seen in a cartoon video, was a clarinet, I was told emphatically by one little one... "NO! It's a stick!

Asking how many students there were in their class, as I brought them to the gym, as I always count heads, I was told by one... "We are missing one!" :)

Grade 5 - "Madame, you are 69? DANG!!!"

Grade 5 - "Madame, you are my SECOND favourite teacher." I will take it, his home room teacher being the first, of course. 

During a math activity in Grade One, the response I wanted to my question, "If you put a plus sign here, you will get a big, fat ...? I wanted ZERO as a response but I received COW!

In the same Grade One class, a big box of pencils fell unexplicably off the shelf, and scattered everywhere, whereupon Jason explained, "It was probably a flying pancake!" Huh? He had been writing about "colossal pancakes" so that was his mindset. 

Grade One again! Me: You have to take your plant home because there is no one here to water it on the weekend. Reply from Alex? "Teachers stay here on the weekend!" I burst out laughing right there. 

The same little one informs me in the same day, that his Grandmother is coming to visit from Morocco. When I asked him how long his grandmother was going to be in Canada, he replied "SIX years and FIVE days." How accurate can you get?

When playing a two team multiplication game in Math with a Grade Four class, in my instructions I added that I did not want to hear any derogatory words starting with L, such as LOSER, when the game was over.  To which one quick witted child sang out "LEMON!" 

A kindergartener when I was on late bus duty, poked me and exclaimed  "I NEMBER you!

Telling one particular little scamp that he had had a good day in class, as I walked him to the bus, he replied, "Tell my Mom and Dad!" When I said I had no way of communicating with them, he had an answer. "Maybe I could call you on my IPad. What's your account number?"

Believe it or not!!! 

Well, it’s been a while!

I had stopped blogging as the pandemic dragged on, because I was wallowing in the murk too much. Then, when we finally had what seemed to be the « last wave » come and go, I was too busy trying to get those two years plus back, to think of sitting down in front of a computer, and blogging. Hell, I had to get out in the world again, and really LIVE! 

Which is what I have been doing, in spades and my adventures have continued, and since I continued to supply teach, I have continued writing down those funny, touching, cute and wacky things children say. 

So here are at least a year’s worth! 

I had a student in Grade One read me his pattern book. “My dog can play. My dog can run. I can watch TV.  I can play with my dog. I can pee in the toilet.” 

“It might be weird but I like the smell of bug spray.” Riley in Kindergarten. 

K -Piper confides the following to me “Cohen is a bully. I already know that.” 

Grade One French Immersion: “Beaucoup de people get mixed up with mon nom”, said Abby. 

“I am your guy when it comes to batteries” declared Alex, in Grade 2 FI. He had told me that my problem with the Smartboard, was my keyboard. He informed me that he had told his teacher that the day before, that the keyboard needed new batteries. It was worth a try. So I sent him off to the office to get new batteries, and sure enough, that was the problem! 

The same little scamp, another day, retorts “I don't have to speak French yet. The bell didn't ring.” (He had just rolled his eyes at me when I told him he should be speaking French).  Then he turns around two minutes later, speaks French, and when I give him a Bravo ticket ( gives him a chance to win a prize at the end of the week, from a draw),his response was a loud  "SWEET HOME ALABAMA!"

In Grade Two, filling in temporarily for another teacher, I asked a student what she called her teacher, because some teachers use their first name. I said, "Is it Ms Ali?” “Well, yeah, that's her name!” As if to say, DUH!"

In another primary English class, where I always tell the children to call me Madame Duguay, or Madame, one pipes up, "" I can say your name, Madame Dickie!" 

Mike, while reading a book aloud about where something is hiding, reads “It hides in the bathroom." Then he adds, voce sotto, and bending close to me, declares "It's pooping!" 

In Grade One French Immersion, one student was being the "Mini Prof" and asking the others questions. He had drawn the name of one student who was in the washroom at the moment, which happens to be in the classroom. I was sitting between the mini prof and the bathroom, so I very loudly repeated the question to the one in the bathroom, as a kind of joke, and thinking it would be really funny if they piped up the answer.  One child looked at me very serously and said, " You can't DO that!", meaning I couldn't ask them a question when they were in the bathroom.  I agreed, but thought to myself, "I am the teacher: I can do anything." LOL

I was distributing $ in a Grade Five class, money that they could accumulate to buy prizes at the end of the week. I gave one student $100 and said it was given because of "gentillesse" which no one seemed to understand, so I asked the whole class, "I gave the $100 for "gentillesse" so what do you think I gave the money for? One answer? For the Book Fair? 

In one Grade One FI, we were doing the Canada Food Guide, so the kids were cutting up pictures from magazines and flyers, and gluing the cut-outs under the correct food group heading, ie. Fruits and Vegetables, Dairy Products, etc. I thought they were doing really well, until little Emmett asked me so seriously, "How do you say "dog food" in French, Madame?" OMG, I had to tell him that dog food does NOT belong in any of Canada's Food Groups. 

“ I don't have a sister or brother, but I have a dog brother.” said a tad wistfully by a wee one in Kindergarten.

TURNING THE TABLES... on Road Rage?

I was driving along the main drag in our fair city recently, when NOT 100 metres from a pedestrian crosswalk, OUT stepped a young, very curly, long haired young man, from between two parked cars, waving his arms in the air.  I tend to notice men with hair, especially as I age.  I enjoy seeing a full head of hair on any young person, really.  What was I talking about? Oh yeah, this young fella stepping out onto a busy street, from out of nowhere.

Well, I didn't really know what he was waving his arms about, but I was NOT about to stop and find out.  I would have had to SLAM on my brakes, and possibly be rear ended by a car behind me, so I kept on going. I did look up at my rear view mirror, only to see him give ME the finger... le DOIGT D'HONNEUR.  FRANCHEMENT!!!!  I guess he had wanted me to stop to let him cross the street.  Well, I just said to myself, "Listen young man, use the crosswalk.  Don't they teach you SOMEWHERE, never to step out from between parked cars?"

I thought no more of the incident, because in two minutes I was at my destination, the waterfront parking lot, where I had business with my seamstress. I had no sooner parked, turned OFF my car, and was putting on my mask, when another car pulled up RIGHT beside me.  Music was blaring, plus the muffler was busted and making an ear splitting racket.  Guess who was at the wheel?  None other than the young man who had just given me the finger!  I know hair when I see it.  It was him!

My first thought was, "OMG, road rage. He has followed me here and is about to tear a strip off me!"  What else could it be?  I drive a BRIGHT, neon green Mazda, with a Canadian flag fluttering in the wind, on the roof top antennae.  You can spot me miles away.  He was out to get me! (My imagination tends to run wild, the older I get!)

When I entered the parking lot, I had noticed there were two men wearing security vests, not 50 metres from where I was parked, so I decided right then and there, to bite the bullet and nip this possible nasty encounter, right in the bud!  Tuer l'oeuf dans le coque, comme qu'on dit.  These men would be witnesses to a possible nasty encounter, and would surely come to my rescue, if need be? 

I jumped out of Jiminy and went RIGHT up to this guy's window, which was rolled up. He was absorbed on his phone.  I rapped smartly on the window. He looked up, obviously startled, and all wide eyed.  I waved my ARMS and spreading them wide, slowly articulated with my mouth,  so that he could read my lips, "I DID NOT see you back there!"  He looked scared, nodded, smiled and looked down at his phone again, kind of fluffing me off.

By this time, I was on a roll. I rapped on his window again: he looked up, now decidedly embarrassed, wanting to get rid of me, smiling benevolently, but still NOT rolling down his window.  Well, I gave HIM the finger, by wagging my finger back and forth, and mouthed the words, "NO more giving me the finger, okay? That's not nice! " He nodded vigourously, smiled, and went back to staring at his phone.  So our one sided conversation was OVER, I guess?

I finally trotted off, happy to have gotten MY message across, and thinking, "Don't mess with little old, white haired ladies!" 

Dear Hana:

As one of your teachers, I did my report Friday, indicating the results of my "Good for Kids" assignment at your school.  That four week assignment was to help you and other students in French Immersion bring up your reading levels a bit by giving you some much needed extra time, one-on-one, or in small group setting. 

I was in a deeply reflective mood, as I tabled the results.  All students who were able to be helped, were able to advance, and what a wonderful feeling that was, for themselves, their teachers, their principal, and for me. It had been a team effort all the way. 

When I saw your name on my list four weeks ago, I remembered you right away, from Kindergarten, then Grade One, Grade Two and now here you were, in Grade Five.  Still with beautiful, long, dark, wavy brown hair, and a shy, sweet smile. 

Teachers remember students for different reasons. I have a tendency to remember the scamps (one Claudio Ippopolito comes to mind!), the students who need more love and attention than others, the super bright ones, the new ones in a classroom, the neglected ones, and students like you, super quiet, almost timid and so undemanding. 

You were right beside me first thing every morning for two weeks. We chatted while going down the hall from your classroom to my cubby, and then we went to work.  I could tell when you had read the night before, with your grandmother who lives with you, because you did so well. Not many people know how to properly pronounce the plural of eggs, in French. You did! 

That Friday morning you were a little quieter than usual. When I asked if you were feeling well, you merely replied that you were tired.  

The next day your mom brought you to the hospital because you still weren't feeling well, but you never came home.  Tragically, without explanation or reason, GOD called you home. 

I can't even begin to imagine the magnitude of your parents' grief, nor the grief of your grandparents, extended family and friends. Your school community, classmates, teachers, all staff... we are devastated, and heartbroken as well. There are no words. There are no answers. Just an ENORMOUS sense of loss.    

I immediately went to see a grief counsellor at school Monday morning, exactly at the same time you and I would have been together.  I poured out my heart... I cried... and I shared a memory with her, that I have kept since you were in Grade One, four years ago. It is a memory that still makes me smile. 

I was in your classroom, helping your teacher by taking a Guided Reading group, which consisted of you and another girl. We had read a story, and when doing a recount, I asked you a question, which the other child answered right away. I should have admonished her gently, but for some reason, I didn't.  That is when you quietly reminded me with the following comment... "THAT was MY question Madame, and you let HER answer."  I immediately apologised to you and reminded the other student that it had not been her question to answer.  Then you added these seven words, which I never, EVER, forgot. "You deprived me of a learning opportunity!"  Your comment made me smile, even though were one hundred percent correct! I had indeed done that.

I made a point from then on, of never allowing one child to answer for another. Children may learn from their teachers but TEACHERS also learn from their students. YOU taught me a lesson that day and I want to thank you! 

Your dash was short Hana, a mere ten years... 2011-2021.  You may be gone but you will never be forgotten.  You lived, laughed, loved and were loved. You left your mark the short time you were with us.  With your words especially, you left your mark in my mind and in my heart... forever... pour toujours...por siempre.

Madame D. 

💔

There are limits to being kind...

don't you think?  I know it's a pandemic, people are stressed, we don't always know what's going on in their life, and all, but RUDE is RUDE, and needs to be called out. That is my humble opinion anyway, and heaven knows, I always have one.

My case in point? I invited a friend for dinner and a game of crib recently. I love to play crib; my friend is an excellent player and good company.  

Now my friend is attached to his phone. I know that. He answers his phone no matter where or when: he NEVER turns it off, nor would he ever just NOT answer.  HEAVEN FORBID... the sky would fall!!!

I was well aware of his phone addiction, but it had never been a problem before, because the conversation was usually just one quick call. Well, Monday night that is NOT what transpired.

We had no sooner sat down to our first course of salad, rolls accompagnied by a glass of wine, when he took a call from his brother-in-law. Five minutes later he hung up, looking sheepish.  It wasn't even an important call.  We resumed our meal, and had NOT even finished the salad, when his girlfriend called. She calls every day, as she lives in another zone: she does it to keep tabs on him, as she is the jealous type. So he answers, goes upstairs (first signaling that it has to be quiet around him), and proceeds to chat with her for over twenty five minutes. He had no sooner finished with her, when there was a call waiting, from his sister, which he also took. Again, not important. It could have gone to voice mail.  All the calls could have.  Our evening so far? Five minutes at the table, and over thirty five minutes on phone calls.

By now, I am fuming, but it's only a slow simmer. When he lands back downstairs, I ask him point blank, but very politely, "Could you please turn your phone off now, or at least let it go to voice mail, so we can finish our meal, and enjoy a few games of crib uninterrupted?"  His answer, "Oh, no, I have to answer my phone. I can't NOT answer it". He picks up his glass and proceeds to sit down at the table.

Well, that was where I very calmly took the glass of wine out of his hand, handed him his dinner in foil (I was prepared!) and told him that he could take his phone and his dinner, and go home.  I told him how rude and disrepectful he was being to me, his friend, and that I had had enough. He refused the food, and left quietly, without even apologizing.

With friends like that?  Thinking back, I realized something else had really upset me, even above the unbelievable rudeness.  It was that he expected Vimy and I to be quiet while he was talking to the "girlfriend" so she wouldn't know that he wasn't home. ME?  QUIET in MY own house?  ME, who had her own phone off?  

There are limits to my kindness after all. I found that out that night. Readers? Do you agree? Do you have your limits?

Thank you for reading my rant. I always feel so much better after I put pen to paper, so to speak. 

A CANINE perspective on this Pandemic business!

The look I gave my master said it all. She knew it too. (I use the term Master, knowing she wouldn't like Mistress, because of the negative and sexist connotations. I know her WELL!) 

I have been wanting to have my say about this Covid business for a while now.  I may be just a dog, but I have thoughts and feelings too, and they are going to spill out right here. Consider this MY rant.

I am loved, well cared for and want for nothing. Don't get me wrong. However, my dog's life has been nonetheless impacted by this Pandemic.  My Master was hiking in the Himalayas last March, while I was living the life of Riley at the "Good Life Dog Hotel", when this Corona business was renamed COVID 19 and declared a global PANDEMIC!

My master came home ten days early and has pretty much been HOME a lot more since.  While I enjoy that, I miss my social time too. I don't get to go to doggie day care anymore. I hardly see any of my canine friends unless I meet them on a hiking trail. IF they have fussy, overly protective Masters, I can't even get a good sniff in. Jeepers! Furthermore, what I really miss is seeing ALL my "ma tantes"... who would come to visit.  There's ma tante Nancy in Texas, (she might as well be on another planet!), ma tante Linda, (not in my Zone and in Red besides), ma tante Louise,(in a LOCKDOWN zone) ma tante Denise (restricted household bubbles), and ma tante Jane and mon oncle John ( also in another Zone.)  I have picked up some new "ma tantes", ie. Monique, Christine, Aline, Celia, and especially ma tante Ali and mon oncle Yves, but I still miss my old ones. They spoiled me rotten. Everyone says I am such a good dog, and they love me. Everyone loves me. I am not bragging. That's the truth. They always say to my Master, "What a GOOD dog!"

There is one exception though! THE granddaughter and I are NOT friends. It's not my fault and it's not hers. I am just not used to children. I am afraid of them, along with being afraid of any and all stick-like objects, vacuum cleaners, gunshots on TV, thunder, loud noises, and anything that comes towards me moving at,or near my eye level... like toddlers, wheelchairs, and bicycles. So, being scared of her, I would bark when she scampered into the room, and even WORSE, sometimes I would even growl. Isn't that terrible? I only bark when someone is at the door, or walking by in the street, because it is my protective nature. Why am I barking at THE most important being in my Master's life?  So I went from being banished to the basement during my visits there, to being banished to the kennel, to not being able to be banished anywhere, since the Atlantic Bubble is no more, and NO ONE can go visit ANYWHERE, anyway! :( How are we going to get used to each other, when we can never see each other?)

I have experienced loss too. I am now eating leftover dog food donations from the owners of three D+E+A+D canine friends. I think I have lost count, actually. I did get to say goodbye to Bella, my cousin, but not to Roxie, nor Freddy and I didn't even know the dog whose food I received today, he being my Master's mother's neighbour's recently departed pooch. (Did you follow that one?) It is kind of morbid to be eating another DEAD dog's food, but since my Master is such a frugalista, I eat it just to make her happy. LOL

Today was the icing on the cake, however, and hence that pathetic look on my face. We left the house this morning, on what became a four hour odyssey to get my annual vaccines. Go figure!  Normally, that would involve a 25 minute drive max, to the arena in Belledune, where I would cower under a chair until my turn came to be innoculated from all those diseases I can get, apparently, and then we would be on our way. Time - 90 minutes max! 

NOT this year, thank you Covid!  It took over an hour in the car to drive to Dalhousie. Being in the car is NOT my favourite thing. Don't ask me why: it has to do with one of my three or four previous Masters, who must have been super nasty, because when I get in the car, I immediately lay on the floor behind the passenger seat and I DO NOT move from there, until the car stops. I am quasi COMATOSE!!! 

Well, because of an emergency the vet was running behind in her appointments, so I got to cower on the floor in the car for another hour and a half, while we waited in the parking lot. I got up on the back seat once or twice, because I was SO bored, but the minute my Master would turn around and look at me, uttering terms of endearment, I would scoot back behind the passsenger seat and hide my face.  Don't ask me why. I don't want to remember, because it must have been bad and I can't forget.  We are dogs are like elephants, I think. 

We finally got in to see my favourite vet, even though I shook like a leaf, and immediately scooted under the bench to hide. I didn't whimper, nor bark, nor squirm, nor do anything bad, while my butt was stabbed with a needle and another long needle was stuck up my nose! However, getting my claws clipped DID make me squirm a bit, necessitating that vise-like grip from the vet's BOUNCER, around my neck. NOW, I had had enough. Hence the pathetic look on my face, and the reason for this blog.

Just so you know though, I am a very happy and grateful pooch, who just had to let it all hang out today. Thanks for reading my rant! VIMY 

  

   

YOU HAVE to keep laughing, and what better place ...

to have a chuckle than at school? I have been saving these comments and exchanges since last fall, where I taught in mainly primary classes, so we are talking five, six and seven year olds. Try to keep a straight face? I couldn't!

Liam: Informed me he needed a "high whitener." (He meant a "highliter.")

Eric: "This is the ULTIMATE day changer!" (He was talking about snack time!)

I spent one morning working with two little rambunctious fellows, who needed constant reminders to stay on the task at hand. I found myself saying over, and over, and over again, during a literacy period "Michael!", "Jackson!", "Michael!", "Jackson". True story!!

Coming in from recess, I stepped into a Kindergarten class just in time to hear the cutest, tiniest, blue eyed, blond haired moppet turn to his fellow classmate and ask him, "Did YOU sanitize?" He meant the hands, because they have to do that as soon as they come in from outside recess. Future supervisor there! 

A SIX year old came up to me in his very busy classroom, and in ALL seriousness asked me, "Can you step away a minute Madame?  I want to tell you something in private." How can you refuse a request like that?

The same one, a little later, says to me, "I don't want to tell you what to do, BUT..." He proceeded to tell me. :)

The same mature little fellow said to me the next morning, "Coffee is the BEST part of the day, right?"

THE same little fella said to me, with a grin, the third day I was in his class.  "You didn't have to threaten me.  I knew you wouldn't keep me in at lunch time." I had told him earlier, "Do I have to threaten you? IF you don't do some of your work, you will be staying in for some of your lunch recess." He knows me well! Besides, he managed to do a "tiny" bit of his work. 

Last but not least, from yours truly from above... KNOCK! KNOCK!  Who's there? Turnips. Turnips who?  Turnips the volume, I can't hear the music!   

Alex:  Madame, I have Covid. Just kidding!

Justin: "Madame, what's that thing above your nose?" I am wearing a mask, so my hand automatically goes to my glasses. When he sees that he adds, "No, it's that SCRATCH, and he points to my forehead." That was when I informed him that THAT "scratch" is called a "WRINKLE!"

The next day, Justin says to me, "I want to help you Madame." I respond, "Great! How are you going to do that?"  He replies, with a smile " I am being quiet." Right then and there I forgave him for the "scratch" comment. LOL

Oliver: "Guess what I got for my birthday?  A Fitbit!!" Me, to myself, "Whatever happened to Dinky Toys?"

Alex: Running around the classroom when he shouldn't be, and when questioned, replied, "She's got a crush on me and I am trying to get away from her!"  Yeah, right!

Kaylee: "I like your teaching." Ahhhh! Bless her little heart.

LAST but not least, today... I was asking the students in my Grade One French Immersion class, to tell me about their pets.  Who had a pet? What was the name? One little one informed me he had two pets,and then proceeded to give me the names of his three dogs, "Isabelle, Mica et Mia." I couldn't figure out why three names for two pets, so I asked him the question again? Est-ce que tu as un animal de compagnie? To which he replied, "Oui, j'ai deux chiens." “Comment s'appellent-ils?” I asked, as I repeated my question. “Isabelle, Mica et Mia” he replied again!  So,  he is giving me the names of three dogs once more! My look of puzzlement was finally enough for his classmate beside him to pipe up and say, "Madame, he is saying, "Ils s'appellent... NOT Isabelle!" OMG, here is one smarter than the teacher! In my defense, the kids ARE wearing masks, and it is NOT always easy to understand them.  I know... I know... that's no excuse!! :)

IT SUCKS TO BE A WITCH...

during a pandemic, but then, as our Prime Minister sooooo eloquently put it just this past week, when speaking about this pandemic?  "This sucks! It really, really does." You know what???? He's right!

I realize that many, many people are suffering horribly... emotionally, physically, economically and mentally, during these unprecedented times. I am very aware of that.  I am fortunate enough to be only really affected by the "social" aspect of this pandemic. My social life has more or less gone up in a puff of smoke!

For all of us, a lot of fun and joy has gone out of much of our lives. We can't socialize like we used to, because we have to keep our bubbles small. When you are single, that bubble is truly s*m*a*l*l*. So this year of course, Hallowe'en, while not cancelled totally, was different. 

Every year for the past four years, my sister-in-law has gone above and beyond, to create a wardrobe of these fabulous witches costumes, complete with lite-up brooms, jewellry, wigs, and all the accoutrements needed by authentic witches to look their best.  

We have had so much fun, as our reputation spread. We were invited to be Harvest Witches at our local fall festival, Scary Witches at the annual Haunted Trails at our nature reserve, welcomed at a school for their Brouhaha Hallowe'en celebrations, and last year, even Winter Witches at an SPCA fundraiser. 

This year? NOTHING! ZILCH! NADA! Every fun activity was cancelled, thank you Covid! 

My Witchy Sis-in-law and brother kindly hosted my friend and me at their home this year, where between showing kids how to access their treats, we treated ourselves to a delish and fun "appetizers" type meal. Did I mention that we ran out to do our witches dance whenever kids showed up in the driveway, the snazzy "Wolfshägen Hexenbrut" dance?  We were pretty good at it too! I totally got into it, chasing kids and trying to swat their bottom gently with my broom, while respecting the two metre social distancing rule.

Unfortunately, the fun was over as soon as it got dark, so what did these witches do? We went bar hopping, where this witch (Mercedes) danced up a storm at a local brewery.  I had to put a mask on to dance! UGH! Wasn’t I already ugly enough? We then continued partying at another bar, before wending my way home on foot, with my friend.  

Do you know how tricky it is to move around with long,witches' skirts?  I ended up ripping the first fringe of my crinoline type skirt, when I stepped on it in the dark, as I was walking home. Did I mention I did a major FACE plant at the SAME time? Look at my forehead, and this is only Day Two. 

Oh well, I wear my wounds proudly. I won't be putting any Vitamin E on my scraped face.  I want the SCARS: I want to have something tangible by which to remember the year of Witching in a Pandemic! Besides, I will need less makeup next year. There is always a bright side don't you know!

If you highlight the link below, right clink and hit Go To You Tube in the options, it will bring you to the video.

 https://youtu.be/BjUV-byB8ls

Don't click on this. It doesn't work and this luddite can't remove it. :(

WOULDA, SHOULDA, COULDA... called the police!

However, I did NOT!  Actually, I did, but it was too late.  I am a person that does not live with regret. It's useless, but I am making an exception here, since I DO regret not calling them right off the bat. 

If I hadn't already started to put gas into Jiminy, I would have hightailed it out of there PDQ. I was at our local gas bar downtown at lunchtime, pumping gas into Jiminy, when I saw groups of high school students coming crossing the street and meridians, heading for said gas bar, which also has a Tim's drive-thru and inside counter.  Avoiding people in general and any groups specifically during these pandemic times, has become my MO, so you can imagine how I was a little miffed at the thought of all these students swarming this gas bar, where I now HAD to go in to pay.  I have nothing against our youth; I am after all a retired teacher, but I know how youth can feel like MASTERS OF THE UNIVERSE.  I TOO once felt that way. :) 

I was able to squeeze in, before any of them landed in, and noted right away that although a posting at the door asked patrons to limit themselves to three people inside at any time, there were already four or five people in this tiny space, all lined up at Tim's. The cashier for the gas waved me in, so IN I went. When I remarked that there were already more people than the maximum, she shrugged and said, "No one seems to pay any attention to that."

I paid, but when I turned around, six students had just walked in, effectively blocking the door, and were in a huddle closer than ANY you would see in a CFL game. There were no masks either, but that is not the point here. They are not mandatory yet in NB. I was wearing mine, and I approached this group, asking them to wait outside, as they were blocking the entrance and not respecting social distancing. One smart Alec spoke up for them all, and belligerently informed me that they had ALL walked over together, and no, they weren't separating.  I repeated my request, explaining the rules, such as they are, and asking them again to wait outside.  No way, José, was the answer, more or less.  

THIS is the moment I should have turned to the cashier and said, "Please call the police, Madame," but I didn't, to my regret.  Oops! Am I repeating myself?   I exited the gas bar, having to squeeze by six or more teenagers. In my total frustration,  I merely muttered "Mal éléveé!", as I strode out. 

By the time I got home, I WAS spitting bullets.  I listed, in my head, my three possible plans of action. Number 1? Call the principal of the high school, which I did, and while he was attentive and supportive, since I could NOT identify the mouthy one, (MAUDIT!) other than to say I was sure he was in Grade 9 OR 10, he suggested I speak to the owner of the establishment as well.

Well, I decided to skip that step, and go right to the NB "Snitch Line", since by my reasoning,  this owner really didn't care about how many people were in his establishment, as he would have had better enforcement of the rules available on the premises IF he were concerned.  I hadn't even seen any hand sanitizer there.

W-E-L-L, wouldn't you know it, the "Snitch Line" is down temporarily, due to technical difficulties. Maudit!

Plan 3 - NOW I called the police, spoke to the dispatcher, explained in great detail what had happened, and was told a police officer would contact me.

Later that day, I looked up when Vimy started barking, and sure enough, there was a city police cruiser parked in front of my house. Maudit! While I really don't give TWO figs what people think, (which we ALL know is a perogative of OLD people, to not give a S&*!) I know that when I see a police cruiser in someone's driverway, or close by, I always wonder "Hmmm, why are they there?" 

In walks this masked officer, explaining that he had dropped by since he couldn't reach me by phone. Well, that is because I have programmed my phone to NOT receive calls while I am driving, MAUDIT!  

Among other things, he advised me to indeed CALL THEM NEXT TIME. I politely informed him there would BE no next time, as I would never go there again at lunchtime, or better yet, I would just always go to another gas bar.  I suggested that maybe they could make a point of cruising by around lunch time, for the next week or so, just to make their presence felt and maybe remind these "young uns", to be respectful in all ways

In light of the newest return to stricter lockdown measures in both Ontario and Québec, I felt it was IMPERATIVE that I speak up.  The steady increase in positive COVID tests in those provinces has been proven to come from the "under forty" demographic. Québec alone had over 1,000 new cases in ONE day, this week.  We live in a relatively safe little cocoon here in the Maritimes, but we are NOT immune. We TOO may soon face a deadly "second wave."  

Parents... please educate your children, the very young and yes, those cocky teenagers, to listen, and listen well, when they are asked by a petite, white haired lady, to step "OUTSIDE!"  

        

I WAS BACK IN THE CLASSROOM TODAY...

September 21st, 2020, for the first time since February, so it my first day in a classroom in over six months and my first, POST COVID.  

It was with a great deal of trepidation, that I opened those front doors to my assigned school, this morning. Although I had read thirty-one pages of protocol procedures to be followed, because of Covid, I still wasn't entirely sure of what to expect.

What did I see and experience? I can't even begin to describe it, it was almost surreal. This is after our schools have been open two weeks.  The kinks have been ironed out, but while it is still a work in progress, I admit, the whole school day, while so TOTALLY different from anything I have EVER experienced in five decades of being in the education system... blew me away with its efficiency, practicality, and total committment of ALL those involved, to making our schools a safe and secure place for children, and yet allowing them to BE children, to laugh, to play, to learn, to grow, physically, mentally, socially and emotionally, with their peers and their teachers.

THE BIGGEST adjustment, for me, was wearing a facial mask the entire day,even while outside on duty. My heart goes out to healthcare workers, and ALL those who wear these masks for eight to ten hours a day. God bless and keep you!

The other "new" things were NOT being to able to drink water; feeling frustrated that my students NOT understand me, since my words to them in a second language, were muffled by my mask.  It was NOT being to able to chat with my teaching colleagues in the staff room, because numbers were limited to four people; it was NOT having the interaction between students in the hallways, as "classroom bubbles" are in the hallways only when no other class is, or a class bubble follows another class bubble. It was NOT recognizing some who spoke to me, because of their facial mask. I could go on and on, about how the atmosphere, noise, ambiance, routines, procedures, hustle and bustle of a school day, have changed.  What choice do we have though? We must ensure we keep these darlings as safe as possible. 

What did NOT change?  My chance to touch a freckled face, and point out "les taches de rousseur."  My chance to point out a dimple in a sweet little cheek, and tell her she had a "faussette", which was a "trait visible", for her writing assignment.  My chance to look a blue eyed scamp in the eye and tell him to STOP using his mask as a pretend slingshot.  My chance to help another find HIS lost mask, trampled and dirty on the floor.  My chance to compliment another "firecracker" who worked so hard all day and who was so pleased when I complimented her on her good choices, that she wanted me to write a note to her father, which I did, GLADLY. My chance to bond with these eight and nine year olds, and my chance to chuckle, knowing she wasn't hurt, but because she is a "drama queen", when after falling on a climbing apparatus, declared, "My private parts are going to explode!" 

While I may have been physically exhausted when I left at the end of the day, I was emotionally, socially and mentally fulfilled, because I spent the day being a t-e-a-c-h-er, and that has always been a privilege.

    

MY ADVENTURE IN SAILING...

really turned out to be an adventure I had while out walking. Why the sailing reference? I had to get off that thirty-three foot sailboat or I was going to be sick. Either that, or become a ZOMBIE. We had only been on the water twenty four hours, and I felt nauseous, couldn't stop yawning, couldn't sleep, and just wanted my land legs, like YESTERDAY!

So my friend brought me to shore in his dinghy, and I proceeded to hike up a dirt road in the middle of no where, somewhere on the Saint John River, near a place called Carter's Cove. So straight uphill I climbed for fifteen minutes, UP Carter's Wharf Road, which makes sense... COVE, WHARF, you get it.  At the top, I could turn left or right on another country road, but this road at least had blacktop. I did NOT want another very steep uphill climb, which is what faced me if I turned right, so I chose the rolling hills on my left, and set off happily. Vimy was back home at the kennel, so I felt strangely bereft of my constant canine companion. 

As I strode purposely along, taking in the humble country houses, in the total solitude and silence of a peaceful Saturday morning in the woods of rural NB, this thought c-r-e-p-t into my head, "What badass person (read HILLBILLY) could come along, see an old woman wearing a bright T-shirt saying YAK YAK YAK YAK YAK,NEPAL on it,and decide to have some fun?"

I had no SOONER BANISHED that silly thought, than this HUMONGUOUS truck rolled up and stopped. The sunshine prevented me from seeing WHO these possible perpetrators were, so I bent down slightly, peering in the window, only to see a very elderly woman driving this big mother of a truck, with her gray haired, grizzled, bearded husband in the passenger seat. They wanted to know if I was looking for horses. YES... HORSES!!! 

I replied, "Ah... no. Why?" They proceeded to tell me how they had seen two horses not far behind them, running wild and free on the road, a dark horse and a pale one. I explained that I wasn't from the area, didn't know anyone, but if I did meet someone during my walk, I would advise them of this situation. They appeared concerned, and while living only a kilometre down the road, did not know any of their neighbours who might be missing their horses.

I continued my walk, seeing a gorgeous, bright red '32 Chevy truck cruise by me. The walk was worth it, JUST for a glimpse of that  beautiful vehicle. Then I saw a woman through the trees, watering her flowers. I advanced in her driveway, and asked if she knew anyone with horses, because apparently TWO were running wild and free up the road a little further. I couldn't just well mind my own business.  Those poor horses!  Well, she took off running to the neighbours, while her husband peeled out the driveway, accompanied by his dog, and obviously very concerned, proceeded to tell me WHO the horses belonged to, HOW the owner was away, WHERE the mother lived (next door), etc.  I repeated what I knew, but then of course, he, like a typical New Brunswicker, wanted to know how I knew about these horses, so I explained. Then he wanted to know all about ME. His wife joined us, telling us the call had been made to the owner, who apparently was in NS? 

I thanked them for being such good neighbours, as I decided to turn around, since I was at the half way point of my walk. We hadn't seen the horses yet, and frankly, I wasn't real keen to get involved in that scene. I noted the number of the house across the road, and turned around. Five more beautiful, antique trucks and cars passed me, maybe on the way to a show, or thanks to Covid, maybe just out for a drive on this splendid September morning. 

I had barely walked five minutes before another car coming towards me STOPPED right beside me. I didn't wait for this younger couple to speak. I blurted out "Are YOU looking for horses?" They WERE, of course! They had received a text from the owner, who was on her way, (apparently NOT in NS after all!) and being good friends, they were out looking for her horses. I explained where I had turned around, and wished them luck, but not before they TOO wanted to know all about me and my involvement in this. So, so Maritime! 

I finished my walk reflecting on what had just transpired. Gees, I could be a HERO and not even know it! Maybe I saved those horses from being killed on the road, or I saved the owner much anguish and anxiety, if she had returned only to find them missing, and for God only knows, how long. 

I will never know the outcome, but hopefully it was ALL good. Maybe it was all because, in the words of the poet Robert Frost, "Two roads converged in a wood, and I, I took the one less traveled by and that has made all the difference." Well, in my case, lazy me chose the rolling hills one, instead of the steep hill, and THAT may have made all the difference.

Why do misadventures always follow...

a really great vacation?  That is what seems to happen to me, and on a fairly regular basis too.  

You always have loads of work to do at home when coming back from vacation, chores like unpacking, laundry, grocery shopping,etc. to name a few.  So out I  went, Monday morning, to do my grocery shopping, after having unpacked and started a load of laundry. I know, I know! You should never leave any household appliance running when you are NOT home.  Unfortunately for me, I seem to have developed a certain "insouciance dans ma vieillesse", a less careful attention to the minutae of daily life, let's say, as I age.:) 

Upon my return, I went downstairs to put away meat in the freezer.  As soon as I opened the door to the laundry room, I stepped in WATER. Lots of water! A quick glance showed me that my laundry tub was plugged, and had overflowed. Yikes!  I quickly mopped up the worst of the water, and put in a phone call to my Handy Bro. I figured I would pick his brain, before I called a plumber. 

Well, he soon popped in, and twenty hours later, four return trips, at least three to four hours of shopping, getting his tools, checking what he had at home, AND putting in the actual work, the source of my plugged up sink had been found, checked, cleared, explained, fixed and replaced.  Not only had he found the source of my problem, but after using a plumber's snake, cutting many pieces of pipe and teaching me about couplings and unions, (what amount marriage and committment?), he ended up replacing my old laundry sink completly !  How fortunate am I?  I don't know any plumber, NO MATTER how handy he is, nor how much he charges, who would have done what my Handy Bro did. 

Of course, none of this would have happened if I hadn't started dumping my coffee grinds from my Bodem, D*O*W*N my laundry tub drain, a few months ago. What was I thinking?  I have no idea! I usually put the grinds in my flower beds, or in the garbage.  In my defense, there is no one around to say to me, "Hey, don't do that! You will plug your sink!" Vimy can't tell me.  I rely entirely too much on that dog. 

Another lesson learned ONCE again by this senior baby boomer.  However, like ALL my misadventures, I always seem to come out smelling like a rose, even though that was NOT the smell emanating out of my laundry room today. My big plumbing problem has disappeared, plus I have a new laundry tub, which hadn't even been on my "wish list". 

OUT with the OLD!

IN with the NEW!

Uninvited guests can ...

bring a sense of trepidation and reluctance, because they are kind of invading your privacy, but once they have settled in, those feelings can be replaced by a sense of peace and happiness. I came to find that out JUST yesterday.

Last summer, cliff swallows tried to nest in my eaves, right by my front door. They also tried to nest in the eaves of my neighbour's carport, which faced my front door. We were constantly being dive bombed by these tiny creatures that swooped all around us, in mid-June. I am ashamed to say that I had a friend cut the nest building short by destroying the mud plastered to my siding, with my garden hose. What was I afraid of?  My neighbour did the same thing, and that was the end of it, for last year.

Fast forward a year later. My neighbour is at his camp for the weekend and I once again witness a flurry of activity between our houses. I look up, and lo and behold, the swallows have returned to HIS place, to nest again.  I see no sign of activity around my eaves, and am totally relieved, as I DO NOT want a repeat of last year's destruction.

I decide to advise my neighbour of his new guests however, because he wouldn't have noticed the comings and goings of these little birds, since he needn't go to the outside of his carport unless he is mowing the lawn. I also figured it was best he knew before the eggs were laid, so as NOT to kill baby birds.  

Of course, he came out immediately with his garden hose and removed the beginnings of a nest.  Wouldn't you know it? Less than twenty four hours later, these poor swallows are back, trying to rebuild their nest AGAIN. By now I am getting upset.  I 
figure maybe if I don't say anything this time, and he
does not catch on, they will have time to hatch their babies and fly away?  Not really plausible thinking on my part.  Well, my neighbour tells him and out he comes with the hose AND ladder, again. There is no persuading him to leave the half built nest alone.  

When I went to bed that night (after a visit from my "hermanita"  who was totally devastated at the thought that baby swallows might have been murdered), I wasn't able to sleep. I thought, OMG, these swallows can't come back a THIRD time, it's 
going to drive me to drink. (Well... drink more!).  I went on Goggle, found a way to prevent swallows from nesting in your eaves, took a screen shot of the info, and texted it to my neighbour the next morning.  I step out and there he IS, putting up some fine wire netting above his eave vent, to STOP the swallows from rebuilding a THIRD time.  I am so relieved. Those cliff swallows will not return, because they can't access that area any more, thank goodness.


I console my hermanita with that fact, as we head out for a two day back country, 45 km hike during a record breaking heatwave of 41 degrees, (with the humidity), in the Chaleur area... aptly named for once.

When I returned yesterday, I was busy doing laundry, checking my flowers, putting away hiking gear, and catching up on my messages, when I heard the 
twittering of swallows and saw three or four of them swooping and flittering directly above me, as I unpacked Jiminy.

In my two day absence, the swallows HAVE indeed returned, but this time, have built a complete nest in MY eaves. Are they tenacious and stubborn, or what?   The pretty mother is sitting proudly up there, peering down at me.  An overwhelming sense of relief floods over me.  I am SO,SO happy that they have come back. 

I would have wondered all summer, every time I saw
swallows, what happened to those beautiful birds trying to build a colony this year.   

Again, I am blessed. Blessed to be able to right a wrong, and blessed to enable life.  We have deprived swallows of their natural nesting grounds, because we have over developed our shoreline with cottages, 
and homes, and fortified the cliffs, high and low, with breakwaters of every type. They have no where to go to nest, which explains why Canada has lost 98% of its swallow population in some areas. Cliff swallows are a protected species under the Migratory Birds Convention Act. 

It may only be a small start on my part, but we have to start somewhere, to preserve our wildlife. I will have a nesting box installed in the eave of my garden shed, this fall, and hopefully, when the cliff swallows return NEXT year, they will realize they have a NEW, safer and more secure home in which to start their new family.

For the next month though, I will delight in their beauty and activity around me, delight in the birth of their babies, and delight in the knowledge that I have been given a second chance. 

UPDATE: The next day: My delight has turned to despair. OMG... I woke up to a crumbled nest scattered all over my walkway this morning. I am DEVASTATED. Is it the heat that caused the nest to fall down? What makes this even WORSE is that those poor swallows are now trying to rebuild OVER my neighbour’s wire mesh, for a THIRD time!!!! They are tenacious. Nature will take its course I guess, but I am still heartbroken.

It's about time I went on a good...

rant, don't you think? This positivity has got to CRACK sometime.

I am wearing glasses taped up with masking tape, because one arm is broken. I look like a redneck! My hair is all over the place, too long to do anything with it, but NOT long enough to tie it up and out of the way.

I am still shoveling ICY snow off my lawn. I am still wearing winter coats, tuques and mittens when I go walking.

My time is spent eating, or deciding what I am going to eat. I have gained five pounds, in spite of walking on average, over 10 km a day!  No one has been in my house for over two months, and I haven't been in anyone else's even longer than that.  I haven't given or received a hug in over two months.

I can't bubble with my elderly mother, because I am afraid she is just too susceptible to any and all infectious diseases. Plus get this? She NEVER gets the flu shot.

Poor Vimy was attacked again, by another neighbour's dog, who just doesn't like him. Thank God the owners rushed out of their driveway, to pull that B%?&? off Vimy, who defended himself while still on his leash.  My brave SIL who is so tiny, tried to separate the two of them. Can you imagine? Anyway, no harm done but the other dog had a touch of blood on her neck. My Vimy was fine. Again, his harness protected him. Anyone who knows Vimy, knows what a sweetie he is and he would NEVER attack anyone or anything. 

This week, I came back from shopping in two stores, and as soon as I got home I had an anxiety attack. I haven't had one of those in MONTHS. I can't remember the last one. It was probably caused by one man repeatedly tailing me down an aisle in one store.  I felt like I was being stalked.  I practically ran down the aisle, up the next, and back down the aisle I had been in, so I could respectively stay six feet behind him, because he certainly didn't know HOW to do that.  A woman in the second store, got upset with me, when I wouldn't let her take a shortcut by me to go down an aisle, because (A) she would be going in the wrong direction of the arrow, and (B) she would have had to get quite close to me, and I wouldn't let her. She strutted off muttering, "WHATEVER!"  Yeah, whatever is right.

THAT WAS ALL THE BAD!

However, ALL THAT isn't bad. It's just life.  I am healthy and everyone in NB is too!  Some restrictions have been lifted.  I am not mourning the senseless murder of a loved one, nor do I have to deal with a flooded home, or the loss of someone in a horrific crash.  I am fed, clothed and housed like a queen, in comparison to many. The sorrows of Canadians seem never ending, but again, we are still fortunate to be Canadians.  We are grateful too ... survey SAID... a full thirty-five percent, when questioned about this pandemic, replied above all, that they were GRATEFUL.  That about sums it up for me... in SPITE of my rant.  😃😃😃