One good turn too many?

I have been totally lulled into summer's slow, sweet days, (when I haven't been gallivanting around the province that is,) but today was one of those days when everything seemed upside down.

My lawn boy is late, so I am late taking my shower.  I have a lunch date at 11:30, so I climb into the shower at 10:30. Vimy is always on my heels, so I leave the door open, so he can flop down on the mat. I have no sooner turned on the water, that I hear him scurry down the stairs and start barking his head off. Well, he does that when ANYONE walks by, so I am not concerned. However, he KEEPS barking.  Now I think, "Um, someone around? Did I lock the front door?"  I scoot out of the tub, to close and lock the bathroom door.  Just in case! You never know. Vimy keeps barking while I take my shower, and wash my hair, at a fast clip!   I keep thinking he is going to stop barking at some point, but he doesn't.  Five minutes later, wrapped in towels and bathrobe, I hurry downstairs, only to see my dinner companions waiting for me.... an hour early!  One is sitting on the bench in the garden, and the other won't get out of his car, because now Vimy is running up to the car and barking his head off at HIM!

No harm done. At least he didn't chase HIM up a tree!  They leave to do errands and we meet up ninety minutes later. I had done many errands in that time, as well as made myself presentable.   I continued to run more errands after our enjoyable dinner date, thinking how I would not be relishing the fact that on a 28 degree day, I had to lug THREE thirty pound bags of dog food into the house, and down into the basement, when I got home.

I was still running errands, when Mamacita called me, not once, not twice, but THREE times, and left me a voice message.  I don't answer my cell when I am driving, or when I am at the checkout counter in the NBLC!   I can't answer the call, listen to the message AND do what she asks, all at once. Jeepers!  I listened to the message. She had forgotten something somewhere, so I immediately went to retrieve the item she had left in a store downtown.  When we finally did speak, there was no explaining this to her, because by now she was in a bit of a tizzy. Pauvre Mamacita.  She hung up on me but did call back, with apologies.

I finally get home.  I no sooner have all my stuff lugged into the house, including all those bags of dog food, when a friend calls.  He needs my help, again.  I helped him register on POF on Sunday, but he doesn't know how to navigate his way through the website.  I am NO expert on online dating website sites, mind you, but he OBVIOUSLY thinks I am. I feel badly for him, so although it is almost six o'clock and Vimy and I haven't had supper, I tell him to come over.

I don't want to be logging in on his profile, but he really wants me to show him how to use the site. He has never been on POF.   I am so uncomfortable doing this, cruising through people's profiles, showing him how to respond, and search, since all this info should be so PRIVATE.  He insists he is fine with my seeing all these profiles.  So what happens?   I go into MAJOR PANIC ATTACK MODE!  I haven't had one this year, and suddenly I am clutching my chest, trying to breathe through the pain.  Meanwhile, he is totally enthralled with scrolling through the profiles.  Tout nouveau, tout beau, comme qu'on dit!  I don't know whether the attack has come on because I am so uncomfortable doing this for and with him, or because we are both looking at endless profile pictures of some gorgeous, single MEN!

I SHOULD have been prepared!

I wasn't... at all!  I should have been. I was a Girl Guide. I am organized.  However, what transpired this morning really could not have been prevented, I think. It was a P+E+R+F+E+C+T storm.

Mamacita and I were strolling back to her apartment, after having enjoyed a lovely coffee and French "biscuit sablé" outside on the patio, at the local bistro/café.  I was in a very Zen, relaxed mode, not Energizer Bunny mode like I usually am.  It was too warm and humid for that. Vimy had come along; I had him on an old leash, which turned out to be very unfortunate.  His good, expensive retractable leash is always hanging at the back door, ready to head out for a walk anytime.  His second, older retractable leash is always in Jiminy Cricket's trunk, but NOT today. I am going camping; I had already packed away this leash, with all my other gear, in the house, ready for our trip.  So, all I had was this relic, which I mistakenly thought would do FINE.

We rounded the corner to Mamacita's and were maybe 10 steps from the front door, when Vimy spotted a big, fat cat on the driveway of an apartment three doors up.  I had absolutely NO time to react, as Vimy took off like a bat out of hell, after that cat.  He pulled SO HARD, and so SUDDENLY, that the leash ripped in two. Vimy is a SPEEDING BULLET when he runs.

What followed was TOTAL BEDLAM!  Despite my screaming his name over and over,Vimy chased that cat all around the house and yard, with me in hot pursuit.  THAT male cat managed to get away by scrambling up a tree, but then a SECOND younger, declawed, female cat appeared. Vimy started tearing after that one,  like the mad dog he had suddenly become! THAT poor cat had a much harder time scrambling up the tree.  I watched in horror as Vimy pulled it down not ONCE, but TWICE, while HIS claws took what I think was fur, and perish the thought, chunks of flesh, out of THAT cat's backside. Vimy, who has never even so much as NIPPED at anyone or anything, had become a killer on the loose!

I am NOT the only one screaming. The landlady, whose in-law suite tenant was THE actual owner of the cats, was yelling at me!  WHY?  The actual owner of the cats, a sweet, little old lady, was hiding behind the screen door, terrified.  I managed to grab a hold of Vimy by his collar as he stopped to sniff around in some hedges.  I was so upset with him as I proceeded to lug him back to Mamacita's place. Another little, older white haired lady, across the lane from the rampage, is telling me (she is also hiding behind the screen door!) to bring Vimy to her to fix his leash.  I keep telling her, as I pull Vimy along, that my mother is just three doors up.  She finally says, "But you are CHOKING your dog."  I was, but by this point,Vimy is lucky I haven't choked him to death!

With Vimy safely locked in the car with the windows down enough, I returned to the scene of the crime to assess the damage.  The landlord has calmed down, realizing Vimy's leash broke. The older, male cat is back safely in the house, probably about to have a major CORONARY!

I ask the landlady to please let my mother know the outcome of Vimy's rampage through her back yard.  As I drive away, I am filled with CHAGRIN, MORTIFICATION and WORRY! The second cat has climbed even FURTHER up the tree, and she is NOT coming down.  What could I say? Call the fire department? That is what they do in the movies, isn't it?  Oh dear....

Encounters of the THIRD kind!

Road trips in Canada are so interesting, because you never know what you are going to see when you look out that window, as your beautiful country whizzes by.

I have just returned from a thousand kilometre journey through two provinces, to feast my eyes on my first grandchild, sweet Sophie, born June 30th.  Bewilderment, amazement, wonder, euphoria... you name it, I felt it.  There was a constant rush of emotions as I held that tiny bundle of perfection in my hands.  I was transported back more than thirty-three years, when I held her mother in my arms, and felt that SAME WAVE OF ALL CONSUMING LOVE.

I am still in Lalaland.  I digress... back to the topic at hand!

I saw so much looking out my window.  Roadkill?  You want roadkill????  I saw your usual, the skunks, the crows, the porcupines, the groundhogs, and myriad other smaller, non-identifiable animals.  I always feel saddened to see these poor creatures, crushed to death. Our roads are on THEIR turf.  How unfair that they meet their demise on hot, black asphalt, and not naturally in a beautiful spot in a leafy glade, under dappled sunshine.  Oops... that is a BIT Utopian.  It IS a jungle out there, but maybe no more so than on OUR major highways.

What saddened me immeasurably were the two, young deer, poor "Bambis, that I quickly glimpsed on my way to Dartmouth, in two different places. Both had been hit by a vehicle, and tossed onto the grassy median closest to the passing lane.  I wondered where the mothers were, that their poor babies died alone. :(

I had left Sackville, NB, behind, when I spotted a half ton pickup, parked on the right side of the divided highway. The driver was bent over what I thought were a few bags of garbage.  He then stood up, head between his hands, in what struck me as a gesture of frustration and despair.   I am guessing, because what was lying at his feet, I suddenly realized, was a HUGE, BLACK bear that he must have just struck.  I was gobsmacked!  I debated stopping, but I really didn't want to.  The scene was just too upsetting and sad.  I was still debating whether I SHOULD turn around, when on the closest exit ramp to the accident, I saw a small car parked to the side, with its flashers on.   Two young men were quickly jogging back towards the truck.   I have to hope that they, in true Maritime fashion, were going to offer help and support to that other young man, who was obviously in distress.

I reflected on what I had seen, for many, many kilometres down the road.  So may I offer a gentle reminder to everyone?  While you are out driving the major highways and minor roads of our beautiful Maritime provinces this splendid summer season, p-l-e-a-s-e be on the lookout for ALL of God's creatures, great and small, wise and wonderful, bright and beautiful, the two legged kind and the four legged kind.  They need, and deserve, our care and protection. 

I did go BACK in the woods...

but NOT to the same place.  I love being outside, in nature. It is like a drug for me.  It is also proven  to stave off depression, and when you are sleepless, being physically active, especially outdoors,  keeps the blues at bay.

What did I see in the last four days since I ran into the bear cub?  I was hiking at Daly Point Reserve, with a friend, when we started crossing a boardwalk type bridge over a marsh.  I looked to my left, and there, staring at me, maybe twenty metres away, was THE most beautiful doe.  She and I locked eyes, as I stood there a*w*e*s*t*r*u*c*k. When I came out of my daze, I quietly pointed out this magnificent beast to my hiking partner.  The tawny coloured deer suddenly turned tail and quietly bounded away, her white tail bobbing up and down among the marsh ferns.  Ah..... what a moment, one which I captured in my heart forever.    A Canadian moment! Which leads me to this...

Did you ever hear this classic Canadian joke?  Canada COULD have had French culture, British government and American know-how.  Instead, we ended up with French government, British know-how and American culture.  I would say we did alright!  Which leads me to ....

wishing you all a WONDERFUL Canada Day this July 1st.  BONNE FÊTE Canada!  I hope you will be celebrating Canada's 151st Birthday, with family and friends, in the spirit of love, community, strength and diversity.   We are a nation of immigrants, and for that reason alone I am grateful and proud. Namaste!

"IF you go down in the woods today...

you're SURE of a big surprise."  So the song goes.  I sure WAS SURPRISED, when Vimy and I went for a quick walk down one of our favourite trails today.

I hadn't been down that trail since last fall.  It's very near where I spotted that black bear running toward me last fall, right in the middle of the street.  However, I felt relatively safe sauntering down that trail, because I knew that a mother bear and her THREE cubs, who had been spotted there this spring, had been captured.  Unfortunately, the mother was euthanized, and two of the three cubs sent to a rescue centre.  The poor, third little fella, evaded capture.  I wouldn't think his chances of survival would be great.  So I thought the coast was clear.

We were almost ready to turn around, when I heard some loud rumbling in the bushes next to the water treatment's large pond.  I called Vimy to me, but he quickly ran ahead, trying to find the source of the noise.  I looked back, and basically, what you see in this stock photo, is pretty much what I saw... STARING back at me. My hand instinctively went to my pocket, for my phone, to take a picture, but wouldn't you know it, I had left it at home. Dumb! 

I snapped Vimy's leash back on, and we quickly kept on walking. When I looked back, it was just in time to see the little one scamper across the path, and bound into the woods.  Suddenly, I didn't feel like going any further. "Better to head home, " I said to myself.  Where there is a baby bear, there is usually a MOMMA bear.  Never mind if you think she has moved on to meet her maker. 

As soon as I got home, I called the Department of Natural Resources, to advise them of my bear spotting.  I asked if this cub I had seen, was possibly the "THIRD" cub, the one who had evaded captured?   NOT A CHANCE!!  DNR did capture all three cub.  YIKES!!!  So this cub DOES have a Momma.  The ranger told me that the mother sends her cub(s) off to play on their own sometimes. 

W...E...L...L... I won't be going back on the trail again, any time s*o*o*n.   It's THEIR playground, NOT mine.  That cub (or cubs) can romp his little heart out there, with or without Momma in plain sight. 

Remember - things come in threes.  This was my second close encounter with a bear.  I will N-O-T tempt fate.  

Good ... and bad things come in threes!

A 1000 km road trip to celebrate a new soon-to-be addition to the family, left me returning with unexpected gifts.  I started my week finding a humongous tick on my Vimy, which I took out with tweezers. (SO GROSS!)  I then did tons of research, consulted friends, took pictures, ran to the vet (albeit late I know!) to get expensive flea and tick medication, and ended up sending the tick off to Winnipeg to get tested for Lyme disease. The whole experience totally FREAKED me out!

Just before I found the tick, I raked the lawn a little t...o...o  strenuously, causing my sciatic nerve to act up.  I almost keeled right over FLAT on my face, when I bent down to pick up the leaves.  That sudden pain freaked me out.   Damn, why did I stop going to yoga? (No money, no time =,no excuse!)  I spent the rest of the week applying patches to my bare backside, and zapping myself with my mother's homemade massage do-hickey-thingy.  At school, I explained to a class of eight year old kids, that IF I was grimacing when I got up from my chair, it wasn't anything they had done or said, it was because I was in pain!  I must have grimaced once too many times, because this little red haired, freckled, blue eyed munchkin blurted out, finger wagging, "'Madame, you NEED to get some Voltaren MO gel, for that!"  Of course, that comment made me laugh!  What would an eight year old know about Voltaren? I had never heard about that ointment until I was getting ready to hike The Camino, for God's sake!

Thursday afternoon, I came out of school, only to see a S*O*L*I*D white line stretched right across my windshield, on the driver's side, directly in my line of vision. A ruler might not have made such a straight line.  Damn! Another freakout!! I had heard something hit my windshield on the drive back, but I didn't see a thing on my it when I checked. I guess it needed four days to develop?  Good and bad things come in threes, don't you know.

So Friday, a two hundred and fifty dollar deductible later, a ninety minute wait, after a sleepless night where I had booked off work at 3:00 am, finds me at the MALL killing time while my windshield gets replaced.

  

I put off shopping all the time, because I hate it.  I had no excuse now. Plus, I needed to find shoes for my son's upcoming wedding.

This is where shopping really BECAME therapy.  In one store, I sat on the floor trying on shoes.  It hurt too much to keep sitting and then standing up.   I asked if there was a female assistant who could give me an opinion on which shoe she thought looked better.   She was on break I was told by one employee, but the second guy I asked, leaned over to whisper in my ear , "I am gay.  Does that help?" I replied, "That is just perfect!" And it was!  He helped me select the right shoes, and ran around for me, after nicely suggesting I get off the floor and sit on a bench.   I ended up buying TWO pairs of shoes. Total therapy and total fun.

Now all I had to do was go pick up Jiminy.   I was lucky enough to have Handy Bro see me walking on St. Peter, stop, pick me up and drive me to my car.  Distance? 0.1 km... THE shortest lift I have ever had, but THE most appreciated.   Just the thought of having to cross what I can consider to be a very dangerous and super busy intersection, was gearing me up for ANOTHER freak-out.  Frankly, I have had ENOUGH freak-outs this week!

Not the o*n*l*y Nounoune!

A friend says I shouldn't call myself a "Nounoune!"  Nounoune is French Canadian slang for a naive woman who can sometimes be a little stupid.  Why shouldn't I use that word?  I am laughing at myself and what is wrong with that? There is nothing wrong with self-deprecating humour.  Laugh at yourself and the world laughs WITH you, NOT at you.

Besides, I know I am not the only nounoune out there.  Evidence the following tales, which are all TRUE!

I know a real estate agent, who went to meet a potential client at her home.   The client's allergies were very bad, so she excused herself, to quickly run to the pharmacy to get her puffer prescription refilled.   However, while the client was out, she met up with a friend, and decided to join that friend for lunch, leaving the real agent sitting in her house, patiently waiting.  Can you believe it? The agent was smart enough to leave after waiting FORTY-FIVE minutes.  How can you forget someone is sitting in YOUR house and YOU are NOT there?

My sister-in-law, the artsy-crafty one, enjoys a toke now and then. While out walking, she decided to temporarily butt out her roach and stick it in her pocket, to finish up later.  She continued on her walk, when she suddenly felt her leg feeling rather warm. When she looked down, she saw smoke swirling around her pocket.  The simmering roach had burned a hole right through her pocket and was working its' way through the lining of her coat!  And I thought I was bad, losing a lip gloss in between my coat and its lining!

Someone else I know, rather than ask to take her leftover meal home from a restaurant, stuffed her pocket with leftover fish, wrapped in a napkin. She then TOTALLY forgot about it, and thus spent a day trying to find the source of the "fishy" smell that had suddenly permeated her house.

I know someone else who locked their keys in their car, not once, but TWICE in a two week period, Her very patient spouse came to her rescue each time.   How one manages to do that with a key-less remote is really beyond my comprehension. What do you do? Click to lock your car, open the door quickly, and throw your keys in?

Now, on a totally POSITIVE side, I have to tell you my ABSOLUTE BEST NOUNOUNE moment ever.  I manually balance my bank book against my bank statement, every month.     I know, I know!!! Who does that in this day and age?  Well, I have done it for forty-plus years, and I will keep doing it.  At the end of May I couldn't balance my bank statement.  Mind you, it was in my favour.  The bank statement showed that I had X number of dollars more in my account, than my records showed.  I racked my brains over this, and went over every debit carefully.  When I finally found the problem, it wasn't a debit; it was a credit.  I had debited the amount from my record book, intending to transfer to my savings, and then completely forgotten about it.   The amount?  NINE HUNDRED DOLLARS!!!  My God, it was just like winning the lottery.  I am off to buy myself a new bike with my newfound money.  WHAT FUN!!

A teeny, tiny "Nounoune" story? Presenting a "FREE" coffee card from a MacDonald's, at a TIM HORTONS! 

Finally, this blog wouldn't be complete without adding another "poop" story.  I haven't had a poop tale to tell in a while, right?  Last weekend, I very carefully put on a bright, blue latex glove in order to pick up Vimy's very big deposit.   I then bent over, put my hand inside the poop and scoop bag, and very neatly picked it all up. Trouble was, the glove was on my left hand, and the poop bag in my right!