FIVE YEAR PLANS ARE "DE RIGUEUR" FOR THIS GIRL!

When my daughter told me a few years ago, that she and her husband had five year plans, which they revised on their wedding anniversary, I immediately thought, "What a wonderful idea!"

So, I decided to implement my OWN five year plan.  I think I kind of did it anyway, when I separated at the age of 59. Just because I am in the winter of my life, doesn't mean I should stop having hopes, plan and dreams.  Those things are not just the preserve of the young!

I knew I would probably be aging alone, so I resolved to do a-l-l of the following, and put them into my "unofficial five year plan."

1) move back home (...where my heart has always been!) 
2) get into shape (...yoga, jogging, walking, hiking, cycling,golf)
3) test my physical fitness with a big challenge (... hiking the 820 km Camino did it for me!)
4) teach as much as I could, to grow my pensions.(...ending up working for two school boards at the same time.) 
5) find a permanent home for me and Vimy.  (...I bought a house.)
6) travel a bit.

I DID all of those things, between the ages of 59 and 64.  I stuck to my plan!

Now MY NEW, OFFICIAL FIVE YEAR PLAN, from age 64 to 69 is to ...

1) Extend my deck to more fully enjoy the short seasons of spring, summer and fall.
2) Put up a fence so Vimy will have a completely fenced in yard in which to run around.
3) Spend as much time as possible with my sweet, little granddaughter.
4) Travel.
5) Gradually ease out of teaching completely, and be TOTALLY retired.
6) Travel more.
7) Did I say TRAVEL?

8) Make my volunteer work centred around seniors.

THIRD FIVE YEAR PLAN? From 69 to 74?

GET THE H?%! OUT OF DODGE DURING OUR LONG WINTERS!  Sacrer mon camp d'ici pendant l'hiver!!!  Find an inexpensive little trailer to rent somewhere in Florida, where Vimy and I can drive down after Christmas and park ourselves there until early April!  THAT'S IT FOLKS!  The sum and totality of my third, five year plan. Can you blame me?

My house, my car and my KING OF THE CASTLE hill where I did my duty Friday, keeping the little ones off this HUMONGOUS pile of snow... at least fifteen feet high, if not more. 

I have RACKED my brains...

trying to come up with some reasons to CONTINUE to LOVE winter.  After four months of it, I am starting to get s-i-c-k of it.  

I found that there are little advantages to winter that we don't always think of, nor notice.  I have come up with a few, maybe because winter is soooooooooo long here, I have had more than enough time to look around.  I am trying to be positive here!

So, I have noticed that....

You don't have to close your blinds (or drapes) in evening. No one can see into your home, because the bloody banks of snow are so high!

You don't have to shave your legs, nor your armpits for that matter. Well, if you have a significant other who objects, then YES.  Otherwise, who else will see them for five months?  Furthermore, the extra hair will keep you warmer.  Notice I have refrained from posting a picture of someone's armpits. :)

If you don't like your neighbour, you don't have to look at him/her, even much less catch a glimpse of them.  You can't see them... at all! 

You don't have to pick up your dog's bombs (Sorry Annie!), for at least four months. The minute the bomb hits the ground it is frozen, and it is sure to be covered with another snowfall within a couple of days, so you get a break from picking up poop.  In my case, I also get a break from picking up my neighbour's dog's deposits in MY yard!

As I get ready to post this, we in the northeast are about to get slammed, with 40 to 60 cm of snow, coupled with high winds - AGAIN!!!  WTH?  You have to keep your sense of humour folks!

A w-a-l-k in the park it was NOT!!

I had told myself I wasn't going to do it. Nope!  I couldn't handle it.  Well, by the fourth day the Catholic guilt had set in so deeply, that I decided I had to try to do it at least once.

Here I was in Dartmouth, house and dog sitting, while my daughter, son-in-law and baby granddaughter were visiting friends in Trinidad and Tobago.  I offered to take this gig, figuring a change was as good as a rest. (En français on dit "Ça change le mal de place!") Why not?  I was helping out my loved ones, getting in some precious time with Sophie before their departure, and kind of having a vacation myself. There is little SNOW here, compared to ten foot high snowbanks back home.  What's not to love?

So, I bite the bullet and decide to take ALL three dogs to the off- leash dog park. Well, Vimy is the walking wounded with his weeping puncture holes from a recent dog attack.  Piper is a black lab who runs up barking at E-V-E-R-Y single dog in the park, albeit with her tail wagging.  Freddy is a fourteen year old Springer Spaniel who is deaf, almost blind and needs help getting in an out of the car. Do I have my hands full?

What was I thinking?  I get to the dog park parking lot.  I make the mistake of getting Vimy and Piper out first, onto a two-in one leash.  There are other dogs in the parking area, so MY two proceed to bark and strain at the leashes, as I try to help poor Freddy jump down.  He lands awkwardly on his butt, but then takes off before I can put his separate leash on him.  He then promptly proceeds to poop in the middle of the parking lot.  There are two dogs across the way, waiting for their owner to put them in HIS car. The owner is looking at me in bewilderment, as if to say, "Are you crazy, lady?"  I wish he would just jump in his darn car and leave.  I don't like an audience, and his dogs are distracting Piper and Vimy. 

I am trying to open a bag to pick up Freddy's bomb, while restraining the other two dogs with their leash, hanging on to my mitts and Freddy's leash, which I still haven't managed to put on him. You CAN NOT open a poop bag with your mitts on!!   I am getting no where fast.  Freddy escapes but doesn't go far. He just proceeds to poop again, but in the vicinity of the two bystander dogs.  By this time I am totally annoyed and it must have shown on my face. I glare at the owner and comment, "I must be out of my mind today!" The owner finally stops gawking, puts his two dogs in the car and drives off.

I now have two poop bags in my hand, mitts, and three leashes,  (only two handles total, but still!), and three dogs straining to get to the off-leash part, fifty metres away. We are all tangled up of course.   I have to be constantly careful to not have the leash rub against Vimy's right side, where his ugly wound is.  Somehow we make it to where I can set Piper and Vimy free to run all over.  Freddy has to stay with me.

The beautiful weather, a warm sun, a mild -6 degrees Celsius temperature, the beauty of the park, and a forty-five minute stroll, soon put me in a better frame of mind. The pooches even got to amble on their own beach! 

All goes well until I return to the park and realize I have parked in really muddy puddles.  I don't want the pooches getting back into the car by the doors, with wet, dirty paws. My only option is through the trunk, but again I screwed up.  I parked too close to the trees, so I can only open the trunk half way. I CAN'T very well leave the three dogs sitting there outside the car, while I move it forward, OUT of the trees and OUT of the mud puddles, now can I?  It is no easy task getting those three dogs back in the car, through a half open trunk lid. Especially Freddy, as I have to lift his ass end up and into the trunk.  He isn't tiny.  Pauvre pitou!  It sucks to be old. 

Per usual, all is well that ends well! Am I about to do this again? IT will be a frosty day in H*E*L*L. 😈  From now on, Freddy and I will walk local, then I will take Piper and Vimy to walk global. 

PS:  While out in the neighbourhood, I was asked if I was a dog walker.  Yeah, right!

Travels with someone ELSE'S Mom

"How would you like to come visit us in Texas?, asked my Camino walking partner, and old childhood friend.  "I would love to!" was my reply and from that initial question and answer, evolved a wonderful trip there, accompanying her mother Mrs. B.  Mrs. B celebrated her 85th birthday in her daughter's new home, surrounded by all her immediate family and grandchildren.  My ticket was generously paid for.  We made memories, and old, dear friends were able to help each other out.  MAGNIFIQUE, n'est-ce pas?

Now traveling with an eighty-four year old, (eighty-five year old on the return!) who required a wheelchair, was a TOTALLY different ballgame from traveling on my own.  I am used to zipping around airports at my fast clip, as anyone who knows me can tell you.  

I admit I had a few qualms about traveling almost 5000 miles round trip, what with making tight connections, going through customs and border security, with two carry-ons, two purses, and a lovely, white haired lady in a wheelchair.

The outbound was not without its adventures.  We arose at 3:00 am to make our 5:40 flight out. It was delayed due to de-icing AND having to turn the propellers on to heat up the plane, because the heating wasn't working properly. It was only MINUS 22 outside. It was still freezing cold inside, when we boarded that puddle jumper to Montreal.

We had a relaxing breakfast in the Maple Leaf lounge, meeting up unexpectedly with my baby Bro, who was passing through on his way back from Toronto. So far so good.  NOT!  Our flight to Toronto was cancelled, and we were rebooked.  It was LATE leaving.  WHY AC, in its infinite wisdom, would rebook a passenger requiring a wheelchair, in the SECOND LAST ROW of the next flight to Toronto, is beyond my comprehension.  Poor Mrs. B made her way down to the end, but it was tedious for her. 

We now had our three hour layover cut down to less than an hour.  With a wheelchair attendant, we made it to the customs area quickly enough.  From there, I didn't hang around waiting for another AC attendant on the other side.  I just grabbed whatever help I could,  both at customs AND border security.  Fortunately we were NOT hassled unnecessarily.  MAYBE because they KNEW that two grey haired ladies, ONE of whom was in a wheelchair, couldn't POSSIBLY be intending any harm?

With less than ten minutes to make it to our gate, I grabbed a carry-on on each shoulder, and threw my purse "en bandoulière".  Advising Mrs. B. to HANG ON TIGHT, I ran to the gate.  It was another AMAZING RACE DASH, albeit my first pushing a wheelchair. We made it, one minute past departure time. GOOD JOB the flight was fifteen minutes late!!! 

We made it to Texas thirteen hours after departure.  Mrs.B, exhausted as she was, had really been a trooper!  When she asked me too many questions, because of course, she was anxious, I would grab her hand and say, "Faites-moi confiance Mme.B." (Trust me Mrs. B.) 

Our return flights had their glitches too, but we made it WITHOUT getting stuck in Montreal, which was truly a blessing.

I had a few chuckles along the way:  Mrs. B insisted on walking up to the washrooms from the waiting area, without me, nor her wheelchair.  I kept an eye out, and when I realized she was entering the MEN'S washroom, I took off running.  It was too late! When I got there, she was coming out.  In French she tells me, "Je SAVAIS que je n'étais pas à la bonne place, quand j'ai vu un homme planté là!"  TRANSLATION (much better than Google Translate, I must add!)  "I knew I was in the wrong place, when I saw a  MAN standing there in front of me!"  It is really easy to mistake men and women's washrooms, when they have the same entrance, and stupid, almost identical looking ICONS!  Haven't we ALL done that?

On our tiny plane home from Montreal, the washroom was also really, really tiny.  A huge man went in, barely squeezing himself in.  When he came out, Mrs. B leaned over and said to me, "Ce n'est pas moi qui est à veille d'y aller APRÈS lui!" TRANSLATION: " I am NOT going to be the one to go in there after him!" Then I really had to chuckle out loud. By then, we had been traveling twelve hours, and a moment of levity was in order. 

This journey, like no other, has made me humble.  Yes, h-u-m-b-l-e!! It makes you humble to travel almost eight thousand kilometres with someone who needs a wheelchair and needs guidance. We shall ALL, ONE DAY, be elderly, God willing.  We TOO will need help and attention, and we TOO, will find it very hard to give up our independence. 

I strive to remember that, as I go about my daily business, seemingly always in a rush to get from here to there, to do this, or that.  This trip has taught me to appreciate the mobility and independence that I have, but to also pay much greater attention to those around us who do NOT!  I have resolved to take time to reach out and help, to talk and engage more, with our elderly in our community. They who have given SO MUCH in their lifetime, well deserve to be on the RECEIVING end now.  

   

HATE TO BE LATE!

Being punctual is very important to me. I have always been a punctual person. I hate to keep people waiting.   If punctuality is a virtue, I certainly make up for those who don't, in the least, give a fig about keeping other people waiting, because they are PERPETUALLY late.  I like to think that everyone's time is precious, not just my o*w*n! You are looking at a woman who keeps her car clock TEN minutes fast.

That being said, I have gotten into different predicaments because I was in S*U*C*H a hurry, to NOT be late.  One day, many years ago, I was five, YES, FIVE minutes late for a lunch date with friends.  I was so focused on my tardiness, that I backed out of a driveway too fast, and I HIT the front end of a parked car across the street.  A car, that in my HASTE, I had not even seen. How stupid can you get?

Which brings me to what transpired Monday night. It had snowed all bloody day, as the English would say.  We had a good 6-8 inches of that white s%?&!  My snow removal man hadn't come, and as I knew I was working the next day, I decided to go out around 8:00 in the evening, clean off Jiminy, and break up the huge ice chunks on my heat pump. Then Vimy and I would go for a walk, since it was a p-o-s-i-t-i-v-e-l-y balmy -10 degrees. 

Last year, I suggested and received a gift certificate for Crappy Tire, from my daughter.  Being single and owning my own home, I figured I would use that money wisely on household repairs.  Well, I splurged on a really good snow scraper, a telescopic one that swivels, and is extendable.  So, out came my DELUXE scraper, which I put to work immediately on the aforesaid tasks.

I tied Vimy up as soon as I saw neighbours coming around the corner, walking their two, mean dogs. They don't like Vimy, and he doesn't like them!  GO FIGURE! Everyone LOVES Vimy.

Well, I hadn't latched the other end of the rope properly, so when Vimy took off down the snowfilled driveway, as soon as he saw the two MEANIES, it was my TOTAL surprise to see the long rope follow him.  I had been hard at work, but I dropped everything, and stepped on the end of the rope closest to me, thereby PREVENTING Vimy from having a street brawl with the MEANIES.

At that very moment, my snow removal guy shows up. He is doing the driveway across the street, but ME, being in such a hurry, and not wanting to keep him waiting (HEAVEN FOREBID!), grabbed Vimy, leash, long cord and all, and threw him into the back seat.  Second, I quickly moved my recycling and garbage bins out of the way of the big snow blower's trajectory. Then I hopped into my car, and drove into my neighbour's driveway, while my guy blew all the snow out of mine.

WELL, in my haste, I had dropped my DELUXE snow scraper when the KERFUFFEL happened, and you can guess what happened to it?  I found bits and pieces of it all over my yard the next day.

Rather than tell myself it was my OWN fault for always being in such a hurry, I thought, "Ah, I  didn't really like that snow scraper anyway. It was too hard to manoeuver, since I am such a short ass!" 

What's NOT to love about snow days?

Did you know there is an APP for that? Yessir! An entreprising young senior in high school in my English district, has developped an app that lets you know when there is a snow day, meaning the schools are closed.  No more listening to the radio, searching online, calling the district, sending emails to friends... ETC.  NOPE!  There is an APP for that!

So if you are fortunate like me, and do not work when the schools are closed, OR you can stay home with your children when there is no school, OR you are retired, OR your workplace is closed, then...WOOHOO!

Firstly, you have the luxury of sleeping in.  Or at least knowing you don't HAVE to get out of bed until you darn well feel like it.  Then the day unfurls in a leisurely way, as you do things you normally would not do, because you would be having a "normal" day, NOT a "snow day!"

My "duvet day", as my British friend calls it, was SO fantastic, even though I didn't spend it under a duvet on the couch.  No, a few errands run around town before the roads became impassable; the intoxicating smell of caramalized onions simmering in my slow cooker; a tidied up bulletin board; a warm pumpkin walnut loaf cooling on my counter; finalized travel plans; a few decluttered drawers;  a vigourous forty minute walk with Vimy; an afternoon nap; a soak in a hot tub with a glass of wine; a leisure read in my lazy boy; a new 500 piece puzzle started; catching up on Season Three of X-Company on Netflix; an evening capped off with a leisurely stroll through the neighbnourhood, and a nightcap of Red Wine Hot Chocolate (recipe below!)... ALL added up to a PERFECT SNOW DAY for this lady

It is quite easy for me to become a COMPLETE hedonist on snow days.

On the other hand, what is NOT so thrilling about a snow day? A SECOND SNOW DAY!  The fun has worn off.  The sad reality is, you have to pay for that day of indulgence.  The next morning, you are trapped! Trapped in your house until you can dig yourself, your dog and your vehicle out of all that white S&?*! surrounding you.

Lucky me! Handy bro dropped by and had Jiminy out into my half plowed driveway, in ten minutes flat.  It would have taken me at L*E*A*S*T an hour of digging.  So what did I do? I packed my bags and left to go visit family, where there was much l*e*s*s snow.

X-COMPANY by the way, is an EXCELLENT Canadian 

production about Canada's contribution to the Allied spy network during WW2. 

RED WHITE HOT CHOCOLATE RECIPE

Yummy!

Long, long winters...

can help develop a sense of humour! You might as well laugh, because there is NOTHING you can do to change the weather.  Our winters on the east coast can last a good FIVE months.  If you don't e*m*b*r*a*c*e  the cold, s*h*o*v*e*l the snow, s*l*i*d*e across the ice, and try to enjoy these frosty elements, you will go stir CRAZY from cabin fever, be DEPRESSED from all the snow, ice, blizzards, and freezing rain, get SICK of being cold, and feel so FED UP with having to bundle up in so much clothing that when you walk, you waddle!  If you can't beat it, join it, right?  Mind you, you have to deal with vagaries in the weather, such as a positively balmy +10C temperature on December 23rd, and a wicked -24C on December 27th.

Canadians have developed a sense of humour, visually as well, about our TRUE NORTH, STRONG, FREE, and COLD!

Plus, we can joke about it.  Take, for example, the following incident.  I was walking Vimy, when I ran into a neighbour, who noticed that Vimy had lost two of his Muttluks (booties he wears to protect his paws from ice and salt).   My neighbour's quick quip made me laugh out loud, "Oh, I see Vimy is using his two wheel drive today!"

When paying for my gas fill-up with my Visa card, I didn't have time to tell the cashier at Irving, before he picked up the card, that I had left it in my wallet in the car ALL day.  Upon picking it up, he immediately squealed, dropped it and exclaimed, "FROSTBITE!"  Again, I had another great chuckle.

Laugh and learn to cope when you are 12 hours without electricity, through the night of Christmas Eve, and early morning.  It is -10 degrees Celsius outside, but a MERE 9 degrees inside. Your house is so cold that you see your breath: when you touch the walls, and your door handles, you get a shock, an ice COLD shock. Try making a cold breakfast with your gloves on?

Thank your lucky stars that someone can drive to Tim's to get a hot coffee.

Thank your lucky stars and God above, that five NB Power workers, and five different types of trucks, flatbeds, boom trucks and whatever, are two doors down, trying to bring warmth back into your home.

Thank your lucky starts, God above, AND hug an NB Power employee in a bright, orange vest, when he comes to your door, wanting to know why YOU were outside in your housecoat and bright Santa Claus hat, waving at him frantically, when the power GLOWED back on!

 BRIGHT ORANGE VESTS HERE ARE not A SIGN OF PROTEST!

RATHER, THEY ARE A SIGN OF PROTECTION, AND SAFETY... especially throughout our long, cold winters.

As Gilles Vigneault so aptly expressed in his song, "Mon pays ce n'est pas un pays, c'est l'hiver!' 

🎶🎶🎶