Monsoons Are Us

Today is day two of monsoon season here at the shack.  The rain goes from light drizzle to full out biblical downpour in regular intervals every hour or so.  This gave me the incentive to start tackling the, Laundry Room of Disaster, today.  Over the last two months anything I acquired from my mom's stuff ended up sitting on the folding bench, then in the closet, then on the floor, then on the stuff on the floor, then on the stuff on the stuff on the floor, etc.  You get the picture.  Finally when I just wanted to go in and do some laundry it was becoming a little bit hazardous to the health.  Had the washer started spinning out of balance it could have caused a landslide of epic proportions.  Cats, dogs, and Bess could have been trapped for days in a pile of detritus consisting of craft and art supplies, tweezers (seriously how many tweezers can one person own), first aid supplies, doilies, photo albums, slippers, hats, etc, etc.  So today I did the regular sorting of piles into a) Donate, b) Throw Away, c) Keep.   As per my normal M.O. the keep pile was scads smaller than the donate and throw away pile.  Sorry mom but off to the Red Cross go all the doilies and table clothes, however I will keep the art supplies, if and when I finally get the Wookie Cave finished I will put them to good use. 

My beach is now officially underwater so now will come the test to see whether or not the new jetty will do its job over the winter months and help stop the sand from getting washed down the lake.  Keeping my fingers crossed.  The big assed rock that hubby pushed down the bank and out to the front of the jetty is almost all the way underwater already.  This is a good thing.  We are hoping that when the ice forms it will be over top the rock which means that when it moves it will not shove the rock and everything behind it out of place. 

Two days ago the weather was sunny and dry so we spent a good portion of it hauling wood from the wood pile into the house and down into the basement and into the bunks.  We managed to get two and half bunks full, only five and half left.  (Oh my aching back.)  I am hoping that the weather will dry up over the next week or so because all the drying the wood did over the summer may be in jeopardy from this new infusion of moisture.  Last year we were smart enough to tarp it around this time of year...this year, not so much. 

Brain Dead

Oh, oh.  I think I have reached the limit to my socialization levels this is not a good thing right now.  You see soon the shack and other nearby familial dwellings will be over run by all types of family.  It will be a family reunion of epic proportions where every single living member of the "real family" and their families will be present...for one partial day.  Most everyone will be here for around a week with people flying in on random days but the entire clan will only actually be all together for part of one day.  And I am truly looking forward to it...but...

You see I do not mind socializing, in fact when it comes to hanging with the family I love it, but before that I really need some "alone time" a good long stretch of it.  If I don't get some time to myself I start to get owly, distracted, annoyed, tired, irritated, sad, agitated, nervous, restless, disturbed, stressed, frazzled, discombobulated, anxious, and jittery.  I've always been like that even as a small child.  I think it had something to do with the fact that I grew up in a family of seven people and privacy and alone time was a premium that rarely ever occurred.  You cannot even imagine as a kid how wonderful a feeling it used to be to come home to an empty house.  It was like xmas and Halloween all rolled into one package.  That feeling has never left me. 

Being by myself allows me to regroup and recharge my batteries.  Mostly when I'm alone I like to just putz around and do not much of anything, but if I'm alone for a long stretch then after a day or two of just humming quietly to myself I start to tackle jobs that I've been putting off for awhile, or I will rearrange a cupboard, or a room, or I start organizing things, or I will go out into the bush and snip, chop, or saw something.  By the end of my stint most everything that I've been putting off finally gets done.  It is most satisfying.  And I feel relaxed, regenerated, and happy.  Then I look forward to having people around me and miss everyone. 

Unfortunately the complete opposite starts to happen when I have been around people nonstop for days on end.  Soon I stop doing stuff, I put things off, my mind and body becomes unwilling to do even the most menial of tasks.  I start getting tense and jittery and feeling cornered and every suggestion seems like someone is trying to control my life.  And if there is one thing in this life that I hate with a capital H, that is someone trying to control me and my actions.  I'm not good at it.  I start planning methods of escape and start thinking that Greenland would be a good place to live. 

So in order to prevent having my house look like a small but destructive tornado hit it, and to avoid becoming a citizen of Greenland I think I will make a concerted effort in the next week to find some quiet space to stop and reflect all by my onesies.  That way when all the brothers, wives, and various offspring arrive they will not find me lying around in five day old pajamas and drooling into my coffee.  It's just not a good look for me. 

Back At The Shack

If I mentioned what a beautiful, lovely, sunny, blue skies, warm day it is today would you be mad?  I hope not, I hope that wherever you are reading this your day is as nice as mine.  I just got back from taking the Hellhound for a walk and I must say...wowza!  I had one of those walks where I could actually just let my brain wander in the land of imagination, and let the dog wander in the land of stinky smells.  It was great.

So I am off to town this afternoon to get the mop hacked off by a professional, and believe me that is the type of person I need to cut my hair because when I do it....yikes!  Not that I really care all that much how it looks because frankly I don't have to look at it, but when the hubby, and others, start giving me those sideways looks like, "Should I be scared of this person, or is she just retarded?"  I figure to be able to blend in a little socially I really should cave and let someone else snip at it like they know what they are doing. 

Anyway before I go I thought I would share some pictures from the land of plethora of cottages, or the land of Anne of Green Gables, or more like the land of Bud the Spud.  This picture is from one of the beaches close to our cottage. 

 

These next two pictures are of Thing One and Thing Two.  Both traumatized that they were forced to sit for a portraiture. 

 

 

This next picture is of a small washed out section of the cliff.  It kind of looks like those red rock canyons down in the states. 

 

 

 

This next picture is of three circles that I thought was pretty cool.  I have no idea what makes these things I'm thinking if there wasn't so much water around it might be sand worms.  But maybe that is just the sci-fi nerd coming out in me. 

 

This next picture is of the Poop Brigade looking like they are just out going for a stroll and have no plans to off themselves by doing the most dangerous activity they can think of.  Do not let it fool you. 

 

 

Finally here are a couple of pictures of the Confederation Bridge, it is pretty cool.  Apparently the longest bridge over cold water.  It doesn't cost anything to drive onto the island, however if you want to get off it will cost you $44.00. 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Red Dirt

This entry is being attempted on my iPad while sitting in a small cabin on the shores of PEI = Prince Edward Island using the two finger hunt and peck method on the small on-screen touch pad.  So it will be short and not all that creative.  The cool thing about being here is that it is two provinces away from where I am living, but only a 4.5 hour drive.  My last province a 4.5 hour drive would get you not anywhere near into the middle, in fact it took about a short 12 hour drive to get you to the other side of the province.

Anyway nuff said about driving updates on provinces.  This morning I woke to the sound of pitter pattering rain on the roof.  I was sweating before I even got dressed as it is (was) warm and I have a tendency to be too hot on normal days let alone days the humidity is 100% or higher.  I grabbed Thing One and Thing Two and headed out the door in my Wellies, after a little walking and some bush wacking we found a cool little red beach down a little cliff.  The dogs had a LOT of fun as they ran in and out of the ocean, and I had fun just strolling around.  It was quite an enjoyable little early morning stroll, sans screaming banshees.

Well gotta go as things are progressing and this is taking a bit longer than usual.

Feeling The Power!

Let the bells ring and the trumpets blare!  Kitpu Estates is officially all powered up.  Yippee, yee-haw.  So we have gone from 100 to 200 amps at the shack.  This means that the worst of everything is behind us in terms of renovations.  It also means that I am now back at the homestead and being all Dora Domestica once again.  Well perhaps not all that Domestica, but getting there. 

This of course does not mean that we have completed renos, according to the local population we need to replace our front deck.  I'm not exactly sure why everyone thinks this?  Maybe it is because the hand rails are starting to fall off without warning, or that holes have been spontaneously forming through the floor boards, or that some of the deck supports are no longer actually touching the ground, or that when the son-in-law tried walking up the steps one of his feet kinda went through the tread.  Wusses, it's not like the deck has actually collapsed under us...yet.  (I am hoping that it will manage to stay upright until next summer.  It may be an idea to try and keep the snow from building up on the thing this winter.)  Then the Wookie Cave needs new windows, and new siding, and a floor, and walls, and insulation, and a door, and the stove hooked up, but again, that is a project for next summer.  And of course the basement needs to be gutted and redone from the ground up.  Oh and did I mention that the en suite and walk in closet are still a construction zone?  Oh and we have to finish insulating the attic.  Other than that everything is done. 

I signed up for a writing class today, it is a personal writing class, or a class designed to teach writing about our personal lives and experiences.  It should be interesting seeing as I typically don't write about myself, usually when I write it is action adventure kind of stuff.  Well unless you count this blog which isn't really writing, or is it?  It actually doesn't feel writerly, it feels more like blathering on about random thoughts which pop uninvited into my brain while it is being distracted by chocolate, or breathing.  As far as I can tell the class consists of the usual suspects, shy person who doesn't say anything, seriously nerdy person who never shuts the hell up, major chip on shoulder person, too cool for the class person, thinks their shit is far superior to every other human being in the world person, passive aggressive person, person who needs constant praise otherwise they may run to the bathroom and cry, and me the president of the Old Shoes and Tea Society and person who tends to be amused by the mix of personalities.  So the first day was okay, but I'm thinking it is going to suck ass at critiquing because everyone seems to be trying to be oh so nice. (People critiquing is not an attack on the writer, when done correctly and honestly it is immensely helpful to the process.  Too nice is useless, too critical is useless...but I digress.)   Maybe once the course is over this blog will become a brilliant torrent of lyrical prose capturing the charm and eloquent style that could potentially be lurking beneath the turbid waters of my mind.  But I wouldn't count on it, more than likely I will continue to spew out the swill that you are reading now. 

Well I must go to bed because the kid will be coming to pick me up in the morning and whisk me off to another province where I will be touring the charming house of Green Gables so I can be tickled pink by the Haunted Wood, the Shining Waters, and the broken slate used on Gilbert's head. 

Day Five

Today is day five without power at Kitpu Estates, hubby and Electrician Guy are busy finishing up the final work which needs to be done before Inspector Guy and Power Company Guys hook up power and we once again can go back to living in the 21st century.  In the meantime we have been relegated to living in what can only be referred to as "rustic".  Well perhaps not all that rustic seeing as I just packed a suitcase and moved in with the kidlet.  So actually I've been living in a more civilized manner than I am used to out at the ranch.  Here she has stuff like satellite TV, three bathrooms, and a washing machine which asks you which language you want to use when doing a load. 

There are a few life lessons which I learned while living here in the lap of luxury - 1) T.V. still sucks and I am not missing out in any way, shape, or form by not having it, 2) Dogs can literally spend hours, and hours munging each other and never get tired of it. 3) The kid and I never run out of things to talk about.  4) Those drops that the eye specialist put in your eyes to dilate your pupils which is only suppose to last for two hours last for around eight and give you a screaming headache. 5) You can NEVER get anything done with little tiny human beings running around.  6) Little tiny human beings sole mission in life is to try and figure out ways of ending their little tiny lives.  It is exhausting.  Believe it or not I am writing this at 6:30am just so I am not interrupted 40,000 times, and just so I can actually think at least two, perhaps three words, in advance of what I want to put down into this here blog o mine.

Did you know that being an executor, or in my case executrix, means running around and being a puppet for each organization you have to deal with?  I'm thinking that after this I may write up a small manual of  "Shit That Has To Be Done When You Were Cleverly Trapped Into Being A Slave To The Government After Someone Passes On Because No One Knows Anything About Anything Else Except Their Own Shit So You Are Stuck Having To Figure It Out On Your Own." Being made Executor is like winning the position of school president and finding out that it just means that you have to do everything that everyone else wants to skip out on.  Actually I can't really complain because my mom literally had nothing when she died, no stocks, bonds, RSP's, savings, property, vehicles, etc., and she left a will which read that I was the executrix and sole beneficiary of the royal titles and treasury, so it is a lot more easy to do because no one is worried about you absconding with the crown jewels or vast tracks of money, so they are not jealous of your sudden flood of wealth and therefore actually feel sorry for you a bit and are much more likely to try and help you out. 

My advice to anyone who is considering kicking off and leaving their final crap to be dealt with by some stooge in their lives is to a) make sure you have a legal will made up.  b) make sure that will is not complicated by specifics.  For example, "To my nephew Barnabas Blueballs I leave my earwax collection estimated to be worth four million dollars.  To my second cousin twice removed Ramona Bigfeet I leave 4.37% of my Barbie doll collection of shoes, estimated value of - $7.23."  c) Give all your shit away before you kick off so you have nothing left for the government to try and take their cut from.  d) If you don't want to do any of that and have a lot of shit make sure you name someone you really, really hate as your executor then laugh your ass off. 

(I almost forgot...Happy International Talk Like A Pirate Day.  Now go and swab the deck and gargle back a tote of grog.  Yarggghhhh.)

What Do You Do On A Beauty Day?

Hey guess what? If you guessed that I am now about to pass on another weather report, well then you must be psychic.  So without further ado…the weather was (is) seriously beauteous today.  The humidity was well within human tolerances, the sky was blue, the wind was gusty, the temperatures were (are) amazing.  There is joy in Mudsville folks.  The joy that only a gorgeous day can bring.  One has to wonder if every day was like this if it would be less of a joy, joy experience?  From where I am standing I vote no.  In fact all I have to do is listen to the radio and hear about the badness that hurricane Michael? Mitchell? Marvin? Max? or is it Laurie? caused in the other Atlantic province that is not mine.  Power outages, flooding, old ladies taking up painting because their husbands are dead.  Perhaps that last one wasn’t hurricane related but it was definitely on the radio.  Then on the other side of the country there are fires, smoke, and the potential loss of a shopping weekend.  It makes me appreciate my day so much more, and the fact that I no longer have to shop on the weekends.  

 

Okay now that the weather report is over I bet you must be dying for the “pet report” because you know it’s going to happen.  (By the way, how many freakin Java updates can there possibly be?  It seems like every five minutes my computer is diligently reporting the fact that Java needs to make a very, very important update to the system, what a crock of horse manure that is…but I digress.)  Where was I?  Oh yeah, pets.  The picture below is of two very wet, happy, and spit covered shepherds who have been made to stay at the door so the rest of us did not have to experience the happy, wetness of their mung covered bodies. 

 

This next picture is of one of the screaming banshees experiencing the joyfulness that comes from making her first cake.  Just prior to this she asked me if I had a Freudian clock?  Now I’m not exactly sure what a Freudian clock is, but she was colouring at the time and might have had her brain otherwise engaged. 

Hubby and I went for a walk on this beauteous day and this picture shows a happy, dry, and mung free hound which we did not mind having in close proximity.  (Until she tried eating a dead frog.) 

This is our beach, and the new improved pier, which I am hoping will do its job and retain more sand over the years.  Hubby is hoping that it will do its job and be a good anchor for the future dock.  Our priorities sometimes can get skewed.  Plus this is just another example of why we do not understand what the other one says.

So what does one do on a day such as today besides go for walks then sit and enjoy the shade while looking over the water?  The obvious answer is to clean out the fridge.  So this next picture shows my fridge cleaning helper in the throes of an orgasmic experience of suddenly finding a new place to play, or just hang out. 

And last here are Kit and Karson (Bonnie and Clydette) enjoying a well deserved siesta from the trials and tribulations that was their day.  Poor things, they went from the pinnacle of ecstasy to the depths of despair. 

Dog: "Look a dead, rotting frog! Yummy I think I will lick it." 
Me:  "Gross!  Get away from that thing!"
Dog: "Awww. I have never been so sad in my entire life.  I may just end it all right here.  Look a rock!"

Cat: "Wow! A new see-through box for me to play in.  It must be a present from the Munificent Munitioner for Cats."
Me: "Gross! Get out of that it has slimy lettuce stuck to the bottom."
Cat: "I hate her.  I think I will bite her ankles then pretend that I don't see her." 

 

 

 

Cats And Rain

This weekend was a wet one.  Two hurricanes blowing up from down south has dropped a fair bit of moisture on our heads.  (Ready yourself for the cliche)  We needed it.  The lake is the lowest I have seen it and was in dire need of a fill up.  I'm pretty sure after this little weather system moves on it will have added a substantial volume to the entire province. Not like I had any doubt seeing as last year we had enough rain to start contemplating the logistics of gathering pairs of animals.  (The South American tree frogs and the blue whales had me scratching my head big time.)

The kidlet and her horde spent the last couple of days here so the decibel levels were running at the extreme levels for most of the time. In fact I might have to go and visit an otolaryngologist in order to save some of my hearing.  I always remember to pull out the Decidamps for chainsawing but I never remember when the screaming banshees arrive.  My bad. 

The cat has more sense then the rest of us, as soon as she hears the van pull up, bam she's gone.  Personally I think she has a portal into another dimension down in the basement because she literally disappears.  I think because she is an inside cat out of self preservation she had to invent, or discover one.  On the other hand the dog was in canine heaven and spent a glorious few days munging the hell out of the kidlet's dog.  Thankfully it had rained a lot because the two would have had at least five gallons of German Shepherd spit dried all over their coats. 

Did you know that a cete is the word for a company of badgers?  Not that I'm suggesting anything by that, I just thought I would let you know. 

Easing Into The Day

I am sweating just sitting here typing and not because typing happens to be strenuous, and not because it is a sweltering hot day, it is only 20 degrees outside, and not because I just ran a marathon and immediately plunked myself down and started typing.  The sucky reason is because the humidity is in the 90's...I hate that.  Most especially because yesterday was so nice and NOT humid.  I was thinking that I could get used to that kind of weather.  You know, the kind that isn't humid, hot, or bug filled.  Not many days are that great.  So here I sit and sweat.  Sigh. 

I haven't got any real big plans for today, some light house cleaning, laundry, and possibly cooking something edible which isn't going to be seriously bad for me.  I've already made the bed with the help of the cat Karson, who by the way isn't a help and is a total asswad when it comes to the bed making process, then I put a load of laundry into the washer, and then I applied for a job on line. 

 

I'm really starting to get the hang of the whole "resume altering to suit specific jobs" routine, but am having difficulties with the interview processes.  The problem is that I keep coming across as overly qualified for the position.  One guy told me that he was reluctant to consider me because I used words like "cognizant" and "attributable" during the interview and he felt that I may intimidate the other workers by the way I speak.  What a big load of horse puckies that is!  I am the least intimidating person I know.  In fact I have no problem saying things like "youse guys" and "a-usetavit" when the occasion arises.  Okay so maybe I would be very reluctant to say "a-usetavit" because that just picks my ass when people say that and makes me question the validity of the education system they obviously skipped out on in their youth.  And well "youse guys" would be pretty hard to spit out without throwing up a little bit.  But I sure as hell wouldn't have an issue saying, "get off your lazy arses and start doing your job or I will personally remove you spleen through your nasal cavity."  Not that I would say that during an interview. I might say something like, "If I noticed fellow employees perhaps not working to the best of their abilities I may gently remind them that someone is paying them to perform to a certain standard, and if they did not go back to work forthwith it would become much more difficult for them to finish their shift with an additional masticated anal passage.”  Then I would smile a sweet, sweet smile and bat my baby browns at the interviewer, organize his folder, correct his notes, and tell him to sit up straight and quit trembling.  All that fake trembly fear crap which people feel is required around me just makes me want to put my hands around their throats and squeeze until their eyes bug out.  (I joke. It's been months since I've done that.)

 

So get this...an amazing event has occurred!  The kidlet called and said she was going to come over so we could go for a long walk.  How cool is that?  This whole living close to each other thing is just about as sweet as the blueberry pie that we ate at the White Spot when we were dropping her off at university those many years ago. And what is even cooler is the fact that we can do this kind of thing whenever our little hearts desire.

 

Well my washing machine is playing me a little tune telling me that the load of laundry is now done and should go into the dryer because if I hung it on the line it would in fact get wetter than it is now.  So I had better go before, me and it, has words.  Words which perhaps I will not write here unless of course it tells me that I had better get a-usetavit. 

 

 

 

 

 

 

What To Do On A Sunny Day When The Water Is Flat

Today dawned sunny, and calm so I thought it was a great day to go for a little kayak tour on the lake.  It has been a long time since I (we've) gone for a toodle on the lake.  This was actually only the second (possibly third) time all year.  So I grabbed a bottle of water, my camera, and the hubby and headed for the deep blue, well more like the deep tea coloured waters.  The air was in around the 24 degree mark, not too hot, not too cold.  It was a pretty sweet little paddle around if I do say so myself.  Above is a picture showing some shoreline which I thought was interesting.  Below is hubby in the yellow kayak, as you can see it is nowhere as nice as the red one.   

Above picture is me contemplating getting out of the craft and hauling it a few meters to the other side of the little neck separating the two ends of the lake on the far eastern side.  I opted to paddle around after taking a few pictures cuz I thought it was a pretty neat spot. 

Oh look below, there is Iron Bess in a pretty red kayak which is so much nicer than the lemon variety.  (Yes it is a running commentary between me and the hubby in regards to whose boat is purdier.  Mine of course.)

Below we are rafting up and and having a break, this allows our kayaks to catch up on the latest gossip in the land of the water craft.  Or is that in the water of the water craft?

Hubby decided to take seventy five pictures of a deer standing on the shoreline on our back forty.  He can't see without his glasses so this is one of the pictures which actually showed the deer.  You have to look very close, or maybe just zoom in real close.

September?

Is it really already September?  My brain is refusing to acknowledge that date.  The summer has gone by in a whirlwind of highs and lows.  My daughter is now living close by, my mother is dead, summer is gone, fall has arrived.  The world continues along its merry way ignoring all and sundry. Those of us who were otherwise engaged missed out on the progress. 

 The earth travels approximately 2,592,000 kilometers a day, give or take a kilometer, so that means if you take your eyes off the prize for even a half hour you will miss out on 54,000 kilometers of the road.  Wow, that is a lot of road.  That means that in the last two months of my life I have missed out on 155,520,000 kilometers of wobbling axis and solar winds.  All that way and I didn't even think to send one post card to anyone. 

My mom's ashes are sitting on the bench by the back door where I put them the day I picked them up from the funeral home.  I'm unsure of what to do with them for now.  Good thing she liked that bench.  Mom wanted her ashes to be spread on a mountain which loomed over the small town where she lived in BC, and it's going to be awhile before I can get out there and do the dastardly deed, so in the meantime Ashes R Us.  Being new to the process I do wonder if there is a correct etiquette in regards to ashes.  Do I put her in a place of honour where she can preside over the daily household activities?  If that is the case what exactly is a place of honour?  I remember that my uncle kept my grandpa's ashes in an old truck parked in his back yard.  It wasn't until he was trying to get rid of it and had to go through the mountains of crap in there that he found them, then he ended up spreading them along with my dad's ashes in their old hunting grounds.  My dad would have been less than pleased with that arrangement.  He and Grapesy did not get along so much.

My mother was pretty fastidious so I am pretty sure that the derelict truck storage system would not have suited her tastes.  I do have a fireplace mantel and I seem to remember hearing that it was a place of choice for some people, but I'm not really convinced that it would be a place my mom would be too thrilled with, you see, she was always running on the hot side and didn't like too much heat.  Do you take her when you go to the beach, or go out for dinner?  Or is the dearly departed relegated to staying at home until such time as their ashes get united with the rest of the universe?  Oh well, I guess I will just have to wing it.  Or maybe just Google it. 

And just as an FYI, it took me 108,000 kilometers to make lunch today. 

The End Of An Era

Today is the first day in which I felt that I could sit down and actually do a little bit of peaceful writing, and reading.  You see almost immediately upon entering the nursing home my mother took a turn for the worse and died six days later.  As you can imagine things were a bit unsettled and my brain was on hyper-alert overdrive.  I didn't like it.  That place is too intense for me. 

I'm finally starting to get the feeling of control and my nerves have released some of the super tension they were holding.  Although it has only been a week time does make a difference when dealing with this kind of stuff, but also outside help is huge for allowing me to go from over the the top stress cadet to normal alpha waves in the cerebral cortex.  You see one of my brothers flew down to see what he could do to help and even if he thinks he wasn't doing all that much, boy was it ever AMAZING to have someone here to help take some of the load off.  So between two of my brothers, me, and my favouritest daughter we managed to take care of the worst of the stuff that one has to do when another passes on the torch.  (If that makes any kind of sense.)

We spent several days trying to make some semblance of order of her stuff.  I'm not sure how much order we managed but at least the piles are beginning to make sense.  I battled through years of old phone bills and print-outs of flowers while the brothers sorted through pictures and "stuff".  Old ladies sure like doilies.  Oh and if anyone asks the question, "What do old ladies keep in their jacket pockets?"  The answer is Kleenex, and lots of it.  In fact I believe that tissue companies would probably go out of business if it wasn't for the need for old ladies to stock up the pockets of all a hundred and fifty of their jackets.  Also I discovered where I get my ability to write really, really bad poetry from.  Genetics are a crazy thing.