Z IS FOR ZAP

Jukebox, Goob, and Sweetie on Huckleberry Rock.
TAKEN: OCTOBER 2018

From the April A-Z Blogging archives.
This was originally posted April 30th, 2020

ZAP... Just like that, the month of April is over!

Having paid homage to the twenty six letters of the alphabet in the last thirty days, my 8th annual A-Z Blogging Challenge is officially complete. As expected, as every year previous, I truly struggled with the last four letters. 

As my readers know, this year has been exceptionally difficult for me to stay focused from a daily post/timeline perspective which is why I’ve played catch up from the start. 

Seriously, with what’s happening around us with Covid-19, I was asked to do an above average amount of website optimization, social media training, and freelance copy writing. Some nights in the last month, I’d still be sitting at my home office desk at 11pm; writing for a purpose.

That said, the other side of this crazy Covid coin is that we lost 3 family members in as many weeks. 

None of us able to pay our respects. None of us able to grieve those wonderful lives lived. Instead, we had to look to each other via Facebook and text messages to process what’s to be considered the new normal? 

Anyway, last week on the local radio station a listener was asked, ‘what’s the first thing you’re going to do when social distancing relaxes?’  Their response was, ‘hug my mother.’

Do you know what am I going to do when we can move freely? Beg my grown children to take a much needed break with us.

With two of my three working as important front line workers (that also live with front line workers) and the third an asthmatic that lives with a front line worker, they will all need and deserve some well deserved TLC.

As I officially finish my 2020 challenge, I ask that everyone hang in there and always remember to be kind and considerate. None of us have a GPS to offer direction for what is happening right now. 

Never lose sight of that.

Thanks again for reading.

Rhondi

Y IS FOR YESTERDAY

From the April A-Z Blogging archives.
This was originally posted April 29th, 2013

Oh, the double edged sword. 

I’m the first to admit you can never go back; but if you could, what’s the one thing that you would change? 

I realize it’s an unrealistic question but deep down inside, I would be surprised if you said absolutely nothing.

April 29th, 2013 - YESTERDAY
Taken: April 1977

If I was being completely honest with myself, there are a few things in the last thirty plus years I would have done differently. Some apply to my immediate family, some apply to me intimately as a person, and some even apply to my married life.

I have spent my entire life as a driving force for everyone else; fiercely competitive with a core focus on progress and success. 

As a person never wanting to stop moving forward, I can’t believe that in this very moment I am thinking about what could have been.

It’s not because I am feeling especially reflective, it's just the word itself planted the seed. As soon as I chose 'yesterday', my imagination literally ran. 

My childhood, sports, teen years, discipline, marriage, small children, grown children, career. The reaction was swift. 

That said, I am going to go there just the same. 

If I could venture to any given yesterday, what's the one thing I would change? 

It's more of a wish really.

I simply I would have been free to be ME.

J IS FOR JUKEBOX

My son Jukebox, singing in the finals of Muskoka Voice!
TAKEN: AUGUST 2018

From the April A-Z Blogging archives.

Originally posted April 11th, 2020.

My oldest son was born in the dead of winter in Muskoka.

He slept in a bassinet beside my bed for the first month or so, then graduated into his very own crib. 

Once he moved into his nursery, I made a personal choice that there would always be a radio playing. Why? Because we didn’t want him to be one of those babies conditioned to total silence.

Always set to the local radio station, it was rarely turned off. He dozed off to the tunes, and woke up the same way. I truly feel that early choice we made for him, has embedded the musical passion he has today.

Genetically, Jukebox has always been completely surrounded by musicality. It’s a very common thread that is everywhere (on all sides of our family).

He is completely self-taught, extremely disciplined, and he has fully embraced music as a craft. 

He is talented. He is extremely talented. Name an instrument, he can play it. 

Keep going Jukebox. 

We know you can accomplish whatever you put your voice and self driven talent behind!

TINY BUBBLES

My electronic journal found some bizarre inspiration this morning. 

It was when the vinyl record player that is my mind kept hearing the classic 1966 Don Ho lounge lizard tune: Tiny Bubbles . (The song title is a link for those that have yet to have the pleasure.)

Now I'm sure we can all agree my chosen isn't a festive holiday tune, nor a track that plays into the whole 'reason for the season' vibe. Let's face it, as we crawl toward the end of a year so annoying it continually tripped over itself (twenty-twenty), a song about tiny bubbles within a lockdown mandate shouldn't be considered unfathomable.

My tiny bubble. Featuring my amazing Fab Five!
TAKEN: DECEMBER 25th, 2020

Now, not being one to pet a cat backward just to prove I can, nor jump off the bridge downtown simply because I live in a town that has one with a cool brace over it, I would like to disclose that  months ago I decided to invested in understanding why we were being asked to live in a 'bubble' and what it actually meant. 

As a result, since being told to 'assume the position', I have not waivered from the general directive. All guidelines have been respected. All internet trolls looking to stir shit for the sake of having their voice amplified when they normally wouldn't, were heard.

At the end of the day, it's really hard to believe that it has been over nine months since everything became so hateful and unnecessarily divided. Even amongst my bubble featured here, we have agreed to disagree - leaving certain subjects abandoned and all opinions respected on every occasion.

One subject never abandoned? My obsession with taking their picture.

As a mother, I've I known for many years they hate posing and having me take their photo. I know they don't really want me to, yet cordially comply because they understand (in the end) it may be extremely important... To someone else. 

Thus making my photo taking philosophy the perfect mantra for what will make 2021 tolerable for all. 

In a nutshell? Take the high road and always play nice. 

Just like those in my tiny bubble do every time an impromptu photo op awkwardly presents itself!

MY CHUCK B. TREE

Miss Annie alongside my wee Chuck B. tree.
TAKEN: DECEMBER 11th, 2020

The good news is the holiday countdown is officially on.  The bad news is, I managed to accidentally kill our very festive holiday tree. 

This year, after discovering there was a tree shortage, we picked the best of the height challenged from our local spot the end of November; then proceeded to load up a six-foot tree with the hundreds of lights that usually illuminated our regular nine-footer. 

In hindsight, I fear this was one of many deadly mistakes made.

A week or so in I noticed my wee Chuck B was not taking on water. The second week I noticed my holiday ribbon beginning to sag. Figuring he was sent to market a month before he became mine, then proudly jimmy rigged him on a glass table so his star could reach the ceiling (next to a large picture window), week three had the inevitable happened. Suffice it to say, I had to officially call his very brittle time of death. 

Not one to throw dead needles out before a celebration supper, I decided to refrain from plugging in my beloved 700+ lights until our upcoming Christmas morn. 

Meaning, the neatly wrapped gifts will be lit by a lighter shade of green on Chuck's last day, then I will have him serve as my annual Boxing Day quick burn bonfire sacrifice. In a non-religious or Game of Thrones kinda way!

Jokes aside, I’m not even remotely surprised about the general fate of my tree. As a matter a fact, as we head back toward grey-lockdown here in Ontario, I will just add it to my long list of... “I didn’t see that coming at me in 2020." Which also reinforces the important message my buddy Charlie Brown (aka - Chuck B) has been reminding me for decades: “It’s not what’s under the Christmas tree that matters. It’s who’s around it.” 

I guess the difference between this year and all others previous, is if you happen to be one of the five in my bubble on Christmas Day, I must ask that you please refrain from standing around the tree with any type of heat bearing or igniting thingamajigs.

Better yet, best ensure ugly holiday sweaters are both flame retardant and cover off at least two of the four hazard categories for arc protection and flame resistance: being the tree itself and a turkey that may burst into flames in the oven. 

Guess as a proactive measure, I should promise to have both fire extinguishers and garden hose on standby to keep our wee bubble of visitors safe from any potential and unexpected harm. Which is soothing in itself. 

But let's face it.... 

Who the hell worries about an ongoing lockdown and world pandemic risk when I'm the one cooking a butter-basted bird?!

#yagottalaughaboutit

COTTAGE RAMP UP!

Only yours truly could be lucky enough to take their first summer vacation since 2012 and be blessed with rain all but the first day thus far. 

The crappy part is that the single sunny Saturday wasn't even taken as a day of rest, instead it was spent repairing and reinstalling the ramp attached to our floating dock system.

Notice the first step onto the ramp is missing?
TAKEN: AUGUST 1st, 2020

I think any repairs or renovations bring out the true personality of you and your life partner, which is probably why smart peeps pay someone to complete their chores to simply avoid the aggravation; automatically slotting us into the “sucker for punishment” construction category.

I’ve joked here numerous times that I married Canada’s Worst Handyman, which is exactly that, me teasing. If I was on the outside looking in, I would see that neither of us are lazy, nor less committed to accomplishing what we set our sites on.  We just approach any project we do in very different fashion. 

I like to have a firm plan from the start and my husband likes to jump in without even understanding if he has the right tools and material to finish.

I hate to be interrupted when I am in a task-oriented mode and he absolutely loves an extra five trips to the hardware store while the work is in process. Drives me bat shit crazy!

 

So, over the years I have learned that when we have a plan, there needs to be at least a three Saturday buffer to ensure we start without having to stop. To some it might read like micromanagement on my part, but I consider it as a solid investment in both efficiency and productivity... and the solemn promise from this cat not to argue whilst the task's being completed.

As you can see from the photo I am sharing, last Saturday has the top step from the deck onto the ramp missing. We never had a step there before, the ramp was always attached higher up. But by dropping the ramp and anchoring it differently, the hope is the ice won’t pummel it into submission again next winter.

Who wants to bet me that I don’t get a step installed this summer unless I do it myself?

Hey, I'm not trying to be a bitch here. 

I just have decades of historical data to prove I know the outcome of said bet hands down!

#yagottaslaughaboutit

LONG LIVE THE VCR

Once again, it's the little things in life that make me smile.

TAKEN: JULY 11th, 2020

This past weekend, I decided to start going through cottage totes I had packed up and put away. I knew before I began that if I didn't need what was inside, the items were going to be loaded onto the four wheeler and hauled up the hill.

My project began a top a beautiful cedar closet that has been home to two black totes that had been there forever. I grabbed my step stool and hauled them cats down. 

Very much to my surprise, I discovered they were filled with VHS tapes. 

Instantly, my sexy bonus light, signaling that I'd entered the lightning round lit up. I dropped the lid, quickly sailed across the room, and opened the top drawer of an old dresser/make shift TV stand. 

Now this dresser stand is a classic faux style antique, which I will refer to as a fine crafted, wooden flat screen television stand. Vintage in nature. Traditional in design. Lawn Sale value: $5.

 

With all my might, I pulled on the swollen top drawer that probably hadn't been opened since the totes were stored, only to to discover my prize inside. (Don't judge the whole time lapse thing. Think VERY expensive flat screen television stand.)

Anyway, the drawer was full of taped movies. As a matter a fact, three of the four drawers were filled. 

VHS tapes with family home videos, television specials, kids movies as well as some of my favourite classic movies. I suddenly felt all warm and fuzzy inside.

After an amazing weekend of watching great memories, I can't help but reflect on how easily I haphazardly jumped on a new technology band wagon all willy-nilly, with zero regard for this collection.

Truth is, when the kids were in high school, I began collecting us DVD's. When they went away to college, I began scouring bargain bins to add to my collection. 

Everything I have ranges in price from a $1.99 to $4.99. I am embarrassed to share that I have accumulated hundreds of DVD's. 

With no streaming option, the last couple of summers I have struggled to pick a movie, so imagine my excitement in the moment I discovered this treasure. 

It was like finding a long lost trusted friend on social media and you unconditionally needed to catch up with them. A total breath of fresh air....Which brings me to my point. 

Rhondi Rule #908: Never discount a strong connection you've previously had by replacing it with something shiny and new.

Chances are the original will turn out to be that cozy blanket and pair fuzzy slippers that you've been quietly missing for the last fifteen years.

Give or take a change in technology or twenty two!

VAYCAY STAYCAY

Today is the last day of my five day staycation that was spent at the cottage. 

I absolutely love an evening bonfire!
TAKEN: JULY 3rd, 2020

Funny how one forgets how wonderful time off in the summer can be when you you travel three of four times every winter. Not gonna lie, I've missed the sheer simplicity of this.

I've missed the early morning coffee sitting next to the water and evening bonfires listening to my favourite songs. Time here is very structured yet extremely relaxed. I love that if I don't want to wear clothes, I don't!

As I sit here and type it's hard to fathom that his is our 20th summer on Orillia Lake. There have been lots of changes over the years yet most everything is still the same. Most owners have come and gone but life here remains as it was 20 years ago; without young children. 

Speaking of children, there's a young family across from us that have children the ages ours were back when we purchased. Sometimes I find myself watching them and I think of Jukebox and Goob and their buddies spending hours upon hours in the water, coming out only to grab some grub and right back in they'd go.

The picnic table we had for them that could sit a dozen children was cut in half to save space. A couple of years ago we put billets under it. 

This summer we built her out, named her Stella, and added a trolling motor. Only to discover that I regret ever chopping the thing in two.

All of the decks, landings and stairs will be replaced this summer and though we have a shower upstairs, we chose to rebuild the outdoor shower in preparation for our staycay. 

My outdoor shower is right up there with skinny dipping for me. It feels great!

...Just like these last days have.

DEAL WITH IT!

When I was a kid, my summer days were spent by the lake and my evenings spent playing cards or board games by propane powered lights with my mom and extended family. All these years later, those memories are still very fond ones.

Naturally, when we purchased our own cottage back in 2000, a wooden game box for puzzles and everything else needed to keep preteens busy was one of the first things created. They would swim through the day and if it rained, the game box was immediately cracked open before the television was ever turned on.

As I type, I can hear that classic pop-o-matic sound of a game of Trouble clicking away, or squeals of an exciting game of snakes and ladder in need of a referee well underway.

Their favourite card game was crazy 8's and I feel like they played thousands of those with my Dad before he passed in 2005.

As I reflect in my 20th summer at our cottage, I can't help but notice how much things have changed.

The kids don't come by very often anymore and the majority of my time is spent alone, yet I still love playing cards and board games. The difference is now it's against downloaded robots or an online audience.

 

Playing Phase 10 while listening to the Blue Jays play.
TAKEN: JULY 2018

Every once and a while I can convince my husband to play but it's not really his thing. In the summers since the kids left home, it has always been a negotiation to gain his interest in participating.

For instance, in summers past, though I absolutely hate baseball (which is another post) I would concede that we could listen to the game on the radio if he'd agree to play a board game or a couple of games of cards in return. With this summer season cancelled, I think I am going to have to become super creative.

With cottage life officially underway and no sports to use as bait, I'm thinking I may need to bust out a topless option with benefits for Canasta to get him interested in participating.

Either way, I'll deal with it. 

Get it?

Cards?

Deal?

That said, feel free to insert eye roll or head shake now.

A solid groan would also be totally appropriate!

Z IS FOR ZAP

Jukebox, Goob, and Sweetie on Huckleberry Rock.
TAKEN: OCTOBER 2018

ZAP... Just like that, the month of April is over!

Having paid homage to the twenty six letters of the alphabet in the last thirty days, my 8th annual A-Z Blogging Challenge is officially complete. As expected, as every year previous, I truly struggled with the last four letters. 

As my readers know, this year has been exceptionally difficult for me to stay focused from a daily post/timeline perspective which is why I’ve played catch up from the start. 

Seriously, with what’s happening around us with Covid-19, I was asked to do an above average amount of website optimization, social media training, and freelance copy writing. Some nights in the last month, I’d still be sitting at my home office desk at 11pm; writing for a purpose.

That said, the other side of this crazy Covid coin is that we lost 3 family members in as many weeks. 

None of us able to pay our respects. None of us able to grieve those wonderful lives lived. Instead, we had to look to each other via Facebook and text messages to process what’s to be considered the new normal? 

Anyway, last week on the local radio station a listener was asked, ‘what’s the first thing you’re going to do when social distancing relaxes?’  Their response was, ‘hug my mother.’

Do you know what am I going to do when we can move freely? Beg my grown children to take a much needed break with us.

With two of my three working as important front line workers (that also live with front line workers) and the third an asthmatic that lives with a front line worker, they will all need and deserve some well deserved TLC.

As I officially finish my 2020 challenge, I ask that everyone hang in there and always remember to be kind and considerate. None of us have a GPS to offer direction for what is happening right now. 

Never lose sight of that.

Thanks again for reading.

Rhondi

J IS FOR JAMMERS

My son Jukebox, singing in the finals of Muskoka Voice!
TAKEN: AUGUST 2018

My oldest son was born in the dead of winter in Muskoka; he slept in a bassinet beside my bed for the first month or so, then graduated into his very own crib. Once he moved into his nursery, I made a choice that there would always be a radio playing. Why? Because we didn’t want him to be one of those babies conditioned to total silence.

Always set to the local radio station, it was rarely turned off. He dozed off to the tunes, and woke up the same way. I truly feel that early choice we made for him, has embedded the musical passion he has today.

Genetically, Jammers has always been completely surrounded by musicality. It’s a very common thread that is everywhere (on all sides of our family).

He is completely self-taught, disciplined, and he has fully embraced music as a craft. He’s talented. He’s extremely talented. Name the instrument, he can play it!

Keep going Jukebox. We know you can accomplish whatever you put your voice and self driven talent behind!

PET-HOUSE FORUM

There’s no easy way to admit that I feel like this post is going to start like 99% of all Penthouse Forum letters ever published; with a statement admitting, ‘I never thought anything like this could ever happen to me!’

As you know, when our nest emptied, the dogs pretty much inherited our focus.

They sleep with us, travel with us, and share every single meal I eat.

I actually talk to them as if they’re humans, and trust me, they listen better than the majority of the coworkers I’ve had in the last decade.

Anyway, no matter what the time of year, Saturday has always been their day. From the time we wake up, they get the majority of our words and effort, which I recently discovered isn’t a good thing.

This past weekend was a busy one. We helped family move on Saturday and we had the fundraiser for our buddy Duncan on Saturday night. The day started early and ended in the early hours of the following morning.

My point isn’t that I managed to stay up past my regular 10pm bedtime, more about what the consequences look like for skipping a Saturday doggie day.

Three guesses whom chewed my $100+ handbag! No names please. Annie!!
TAKEN: MARCH 8th, 2020

So I must say, I think the March 7th chewing fiasco was the result of one of the following items:

1. Annie is truly being a BFF in that the pattern of the purse was really quite hideous and she was saving me from any further fashion embarrassment.
2. The handbag just happened to fall into her "favourite flavour" category, kinda like any potato chip for me (which in future I will avoid purchasing her any Nine West offerings).
OR
3. People have been feeding her dog treats through the open window in the Wal-Mart parking lot on Saturdays, and she was simply jonesing, in need of a fix.
(ie: Purse handles... The NEW beef jerky for dogs!)

Either way, I must admit. 'I never thought anything like this could ever happen to me!’ 

#yagottalaughaboutit

MY GARAGE BAND-AID

I am a firm believer that if I haven’t used something I have stored within the last 12 months that it needs to be regifted, recycled, or properly disposed of. With a formal caveat - it CAN NOT belong to one of the kids!

I'm serious. The above claim is written in ink and not pencil and I am pleased to report that for the last four or five years, the double car garage at the homestead has been filled with extra furniture and appliances belonging to the aforementioned offspring.

If you love something set it free. If it comes back it's your. If it doesn't, it never was.
TAKEN: BUSKING 2018, CUBA 2017, LAKE SIMCOE 2016

Most of it landed in there as a result of them returning home for a brief stint, eventually moving in with a roommate, accumulating items that were classified as over flow. Over the recent holiday break, everything was pulled out, sorted through and dealt with accordingly.

The goal was simple. To dig out and once again set up my killer home office that I’d strategically packed in there a little over 5 years ago.

In digging for that treasure, I came across an old drum kit belonging to Jukebox. For some reason, I just stared at it before I began moving it. Truth is I stood completely frozen as the last decade simply flashed before my eyes; the good, the bad and the ugly.

Which leads me to my point. Nothing prepares you for an empty nest.

I’m sure it’s because there’s no regulated handbook for parenting. By the time they're ready to graduate high school, they typically think we totally suck and our speaking voice is worse than nails on the proverbial chalkboard.

To be brutally honest, I think I went through the “I’m your mother” motions far longer than ever needed. I clung on for dear life until I was eventually replaced by their personal voice and understanding, proving mine no longer mattered.

In everything I have experienced on my journey, I feel this was the toughest mom lesson I learned. The worst part is that I’m so thick, I needed to learn it three times. All individual, very painful life lessons.

Anyway, sitting here typing, my mind is flooded with thoughts of my life these past 30 years. Which is why I will be always be forever grateful for my double car garage. 

It’s like I can close my eyes and I can hear their young voices bellowing again.

I can hear that high school garage band practicing, the giggling girls definitely talking about boys, with the picnic table front and centre and the music blaring.

Yep, just like that… They’re all instantly home again!

Where does the time go?

LOCKING 'ME' UP!

It’s that time of year again, when I endlessly search for enough time to get done what's expected of me.

For example, when my daughter asked me to forward her pics from our recent trip to New Orleans, it took me onward of a month to find the time to get around to doing it. 

Anyway, as I perused the hundreds of photos I'd taken, I ultimately became fixated on a series of one in particular, which I'd snapped at a city wharf along the Mississippi River. 

Though I am pleased to report that I managed to send my daughter a few dozen really great photos, the LOVE WINS one I am sharing today lingered in the forefront of my thoughts for the few days that followed. 

Not having any understanding of the symbolism it portrayed, my architect friend Darin sent me a Google link explaining that sweethearts' typically inscribed names & dates on a padlock, and its key's thrown away (often into the nearby river) to symbolize their unbreakable love.

Like most people I know, I have felt & nurtured a number of great loves in my life. Some are now associated more with loss, but for the most part I feel the majority of my life I’ve had an open heart & given generously.

Over my coffee at the cottage Sunday morning, I messaged another electronic friend explaining how my photo had further inspired me. Which ultimately had me search the cupboards for a lock with a key & a permanent marker.

When I shared my second photo with him, I explained that I had effortlessly penned my thoughts on my lock, then threw the key as hard as I could off the end of the dock; realizing only after the fact that I had missed the critically important step of linking it to a chain-link fence!

The impact I felt at the Toulouse Street Wharf (NOLA), truly followed me home to Canada.

TAKEN: MAY 30th, 2019 

& JUNE 23rd, 2019

Not to throw baby out with bath water, I decided to bring the lock home and strategically place it on the desk in my home office. Primarily, as a constant reminder that the most important relationship I will ever be in, is the one I am in with myself. 

As you can imagine, it’s taken me decades to be in a place where no matter where life takes me, or whom crosses my path, I truly believe that everything will always work out for the best. That said, I feel I should ask the obvious question....You know that there's nothing wrong with loving & putting yourself first, right? 

If you struggle with the concept, think of it this way.

You're the one person you'll spend the majority of your lifetime with. Why wouldn’t you want to ensure you're always surrounded by the very best possible company?!

Which brings me full circle to my very long winded point, which is to do yourself a favour and make yourself a priority.

Trust me. My life experience is that no one else is ever going to do it for you!!

REMEMBERING 2018

There is no path to happiness, because happiness is the path. ~ Budda
TAKEN: ALL IN 2018

January: My very own ‘Fire & Ice Festival’ at the cottage in an unusually mild month of January. 

February: Four very sexy nights spent in Nassau, Bahamas.

March: Trivia night with coworkers at Kelly’s Irish Pub (Jukebox was our host this particular evening).

April: My birthday trip, to Miami Beach to see the last regular season Toronto Raptors game (and enjoy my first $100 USD hamburger in South Beach).

May: Visiting a job site on Lake Rosseau, proving in the fifth month, winter felt like it lasted forever.

June: Celebrated our 30th wedding anniversary

July: Jukebox busking out his apartment window as captured and posted on social media by Explorer’s Edge

August: Sweetie at Boot’s & Hearts for her second year in a row. I loved enjoying it with her so much (electronically) that I am joining in this year!

September: After months of shopping, I finally found the new car I wanted to purchase.

October: The official end of the perfect cottage season, as I pay homage to the amazing floating picnic that was built and truly enjoyed by all.

November: The snow arrived. Never left.

December: My year closed with a great work year under my belt and I am pleased to report that I enjoyed a holiday season of sheer relaxation with my pups. 

Suffice it to say, this past year's been a very difficult one for me, resulting in a ton of personal change. 

In hindsight: Though I came close a couple of times (only publishing 60 offerings) I’m grateful that I never gave up on my electronic journal. Since it’s inception in November 2011, it's truly been one hell of a ride!

As I reflect on how far I have come, the trash that I took to the curb, and all the tragedy our country witnessed this last year (Humboldt Broncos bus crash,  and the Toronto van deaths, to name only two)... Here’s to a fresh start in 2019. 

At midnight tonight, 2018… 

Don’t let the door hit you too hard on the way out!

MY PERFECT TRAVEL PROJECT

As you can imagine, as your family grows & leaves the nest, you end up holding onto a wide range of crap you'll never use again. In this particular instance, it was a 10-seater picnic table we'd acquired when the kids were small.

It always came in handy for family gatherings at the cottage, but for the last 5 or 6 years it simply became an over-sized eyesore. So much so, that last summer my husband asked me if he should just cut it up and burn it. Not one to ever throw baby out with the bath water, I asked him to cut it in half because it I thought it would be neat to have it by the fire whenever we had friends over.

Well, a year later, we'd always used lawn chairs to bask in the glow of a great fire and sat on the stupid thing a grand total of once. With the 2018 cottage season starting late, he once again asked if he should just take the chainsaw to it and get rid of it. I agreed but like most handy-person chores in my life, it never got done. (Yes, that was a direct jab at my husband and his inability to manage his time.)

Anyway, a week or so later, out of the blue I had a light bulb moment and I headed straight over to YouTube. About a half an hour later, I knew what I wanted to do with this neat gem that had so many family memories attached to it...I was going to build a floating picnic table!

As I started to make a shopping list of items that would be needed, I discovered my task could be accomplished with 100% recycled material we had at the cottage, meaning zero dollars spent. The one thing that was alluding the project moving forward, was time: I had none.

Then, last week when I'd finally accomplished what I needed to from such a late cottage season start, I asked my husband if he would help me with my project. I know most of you are wondering why I'd have to formally ask for his help, and there are a number of reasons. First and foremost when it comes to any type of honey-do construction, he tends not to measure twice and cut once, more like cuss loud and cut twice... But with both of us on the same page, and all the supplies gathered and a plan ready to hatch, we began in the rain.

Working together, we started framing for the billets and finished by cutting off the legs to the table which would ultimately reduce resistance as I moved around the lake.

Total time we invested: an hour and a half.

Once in the lake, I realized I had a major design flaw. One flat-coated retriever and an over zealous yellow lab (that wouldn't feel a hunger pain if she went a week without food) weighed far more than I combined, which established early that any movement of this new to me contraption, had to include them.

My new means of travel around the lake is PERFECT!
TAKEN: July 15th, 2018

Once I detached from the dock, our first tip into the lake was epic, and Annie was out. Puddin' on the other hand, was more obsessed with my new play thing than ever.

She and I finally determine it wouldn't tip if I hung onto the the top of the picnic table as I let her climb aboard.

By mid afternoon, I had my scuba flippers on my feet and she was ultimately content relaxing on the table top as I continued tooling around the water. 

After a really great day of exercise, curious onlookers, visitors, and laughs, I have decided that I am going to take this amazing effort to the next level.

My upgraded design sees two more billet sections on the sides for stability, and I 'm going to buy an electric trolling motor. I will also make a provision for a small anchor, then stain it my favourite colour red for high visibility. Not because I didn't like being tethered to my dinky floating dock via a 40' polypropylene rope.... but because you all know how much I truly LOVE to travel.

I wonder if Air Miles offers floating picnic table travel points?

Like I've always said.... There's no such thing as a bad question.

D IS FOR DAUGHTER

My best friend. My closest confidant. My daughter.
TAKEN: 1996 - 2018

FROZEN FUN WITH SWEETIE

At around 9:30am Saturday morning my phone chimed alerting me to an incoming text message from my daughter. ‘Let me know when you’re ready to go,’ it read.

I knew she was still in bed, so clearly the outdoor temperature didn’t matter to her. As far as she was concerned, we were headed on our bi-weekly trip to town. One of the coldest mornings on record and she decided to wake up early with an overwhelming amount of enthusiasm. (She can thank her fathers' DNA for that 'so not like her momma' trait.)

Armed with our lists of what we needed to accomplish, we hatched a plan. She needed a specific style of work pant, so we started by heading into the largest box store we have. We were both minding our own business, pushing our carts and getting what we needed, simply enjoying each other’s company: when out of the blue, coming toward us I spied one of her old high school chums. (Not the acquaintance type of chum you had a locker next to, but one you spent summer after summer with and to this day your families remain cordial.)

 
Anyway, with a great big cat shit eating grim on her face, my daughter spied her coming toward us. She turns to me and said ‘watch how she goes out of her way to avoid me.’ I watched and it was blatantly obvious.

It didn’t seem to phase my daughter. She explained how long the other'd been behaving this way and I found it quite sad. I suppose if the truth be known I felt sorry for the girl. My first instinct was she'd put far to much focus and energy on avoiding us, when walking by and saying nothing would have sufficed. Then again, we all know the skill of executing a true snub comes with both maturity and life experience.

My bestie enduring -30C so I could get the shot!
Armed only with a bluetooth touque, Sorel boots and a smile.
TAKEN: JANUARY  6th, 2018

By the time we'd exited our first stop & finished running around, we had decided she would come back to the house to grab some clothes she had left from when she last dog sat.

As we zoomed the backway to her apartment in the centre of town, I couldn't help but notice the amazing natural light of our frozen tundra.

I pulled into the park parking lot, grabbed my camera and headed toward the falls. As I trudged through the snow, I glanced over my shoulder to see my daughter following me. She followed the direction I gave, and headed out on the snowy dock ahead of me. This photo was just one of the results of our frozen fun; it's absolutely breathtaking.

I am so very fortunate to live and have a cottage in a town I love. When I look at the smile on my daughters face I realize that though she left, her returning has helped her hit her stride. She's surrounded love. That is except for the young blonde, with the 'I'm better than you attitude,' that we ran into at Wal-Mart.

I'm glad my Sweetie and I could talk about how her previous friends behaviour evolved and I could make her giggle as we tried to understand it. Knowing, after the fact, how the small idiosyncrasies evolved, her bizarre actions had me relating to a meme I posted on Instagram about a month ago that read...

Somewhere, somebody out there is thinking of you, and the tremendous impact you made on their life.

It's not me... I think you're an idiot!

FINALLY... NOTICEABLE PROGRESS

When I lived at the cottage the summer of 2015, I decided to begin clear cutting the back hill in hopes of detouring mosquitoes that were so large in size that they could have been mistaken for hummingbirds. Looking for relief from the onslaught, I was armed with only a hacksaw. I remember the day I started and I worked at it everyday until I could begin to drop some of the smaller trees (from the top down) using my chainsaw that fall.
(CLICK HERE TO READ: THE SKEETER/HACKSAW SAGA)

The following spring I finished burning what was cut the fall before and I continued my ongoing plight. The trouble with 2016 was that I took it upon myself to focus on my tan rather than conquering the hill. My reason being that there was no way the immaculate weather could last the season. I was wrong. It did exactly that and last summer was one for the Muskoka record books. The downside to my procrastination was it had me still using the chainsaw to drop larger trees into November with no further clearing nor burning accomplished.

After successfully getting the water on and the septic connected Saturday, I spent the afternoon in the sun. It wasn't to pay homage to my 2016 vitamin D consumption, more because I knew the rain was on the way and I had landed prepared to work outside no matter what. The thought process being that bugs would stay at bay if it rained and I had some very sex skeeter swag should they stop by for a bite. 

Armed wearing my steel baseball cleats, I started moving all the bush to the vacant lot next door and hauling the logs cut into manageable sections to the lawn below so that it could eventually be properly cut and split into firewood. Not only was it a great workout for my arms and legs, I could feel it strengthening my core. Truth is, I can still feel it today but in a good way.

As an aside, when my doctor gave me my prognosis this spring I was worried but now I'm completely and unequivocally embracing my lifestyle change. Partially because of what I saw my mother suffer from by taking unrelated medications but mostly because I think if you're willing to work hard, being medicated is generally unnecessary. 

Just like being a teenager, being a parent, being married, there's no handbook for mid-life either, so once again I find myself on yet another road of self-discovery. Yet this one in particular is one where only positivity, passion and overall good wellness survive. Who the hell knew this silly hill would become a project with so much personal pride attached to it?

LEFT TAKEN: JULY 21st, 2015                                          RIGHT TAKEN: MAY 21st, 2017

On one final note of trivia...

I read somewhere that if you chop your own wood it will warm you twice. If I throw in my unannounced hot flashes and the days I headed to that hill to work in the hot sun without deodorant, these logs should easily keep me warm for the next couple of years.

...Or even longer if my hot flashes insist on hanging around!

...HOW BIG WAS IT?!

I fell in love at first sight!
TAKEN: MARCH 4th, 2017

Well, I ventured about 50 miles south to go shopping last Saturday. Not for groceries or shoes, dog cookies or clothes. Matter a fact, it was something much more personal. So much so that when I spied this amazing thing of beauty from across the store, my heart literally skipped a beat. Trouble was, I instantly realized it was simply too big. You read that right. Once again, I was quickly reminded that size DOES matter. 

Allow me to take a step back. For numerous reasons, I usually checked my luggage. I keep my electronics and digital cameras in my 50 lb tickle trunk that I cleverly disguise as a purse and everything else gets zipped up and manhandled rougher than the young gal in a red room scene of 50 Shade of Gray. I've always just budgeted that lost time into my vacation; which was considered my norm until my weekend jaunt to Cuba.

For my quick February fly-in I knew I was departing late Thursday afternoon and coming home just before midnight the following Sunday. Thus, we all decided to stay calm and carry on. All our liquids were packed the way the airlines insist and fashion choices were kept to a bare minimum. The problem was, once at the wicket, we discovered that what was an acceptable carry on a couple of years ago, was no longer and our luggage had to be checked. Suffice is to say I was disappointed with the extra time we would have to spend in both airports.

Only $52 and I'm in approved size territory!
TAKEN: MARCH 4th, 2017

Checking luggage aside, I learned a lot of things about myself on my puddle jump to Cuba. First and foremost, that you don’t need to go somewhere for a week to have an amazing experience. 

With a less than 3 hour flight (and 15 minute bus ride to the resort) I returned to the northern tundra relaxed and recharged and used only 2 of my 2017 vacation days for a Cuban passport stamp.

Next up? New Orleans, Louisiana for my birthday. How many vacation days will be used? Only 3 in total!

As it stands now, I am saving seven for Secrets Cozumel at the fall time change, leaving me another long weekend adventure to look forward to.

Now that I am all sized up in the luggage department I think I just may need to take a few days before or after the Canadian Thanksgiving and hit the road. Hmm... I wonder when and where the Raptors play in October?

Hang on. Let me run and put on my K-Low jersey and check the schedule!