R IS FOR REMINISCENT

I would be remiss if I didn’t admit that I’ve been talking to my Dad these last few days. I know you’ll probably not be surprised to read that he isn't answering back; yet there’s an inner peace in knowing that he’ll always be there to listen when need be.

I miss my Dad. I miss him every single day. I miss the lifetime of guidance he gave me and I am grateful that I was with him when he passed. The last six weeks he was alive it was like every day was an adventure. We looked at pictures, he told me stories, and together we searched for his one true love. We never did find her before he passed but she has found me since and we remain in contact to this very day.

10 years since he left me... My dad is still my closest confidant.
TAKEN: JUNE 1985
 (Photo © yagottalaughaoubtit.com)

Just look at us!

It’s hard to believe I was a babe when this photo was taken. I had my own apartment and was dating the third of my four T’s. (I’m not sure if I've ever shared that I only ever had four serious boyfriends & that their names all started with the letter T. Weird eh?)

That said, my number three T drove a Corvette and was as arrogant as they get. Boy, he may have been easy on my eyes but there was no conceit in his family, because he had it all. YUP, my cousins Nan & Jan just totally rolled their eyes! 

Oh, young love. There really isn’t a formula. So, I guess as I reminisce, if there’s one spark of wisdom I have for my daughter it’s that she shouldn't fret. She's not the only gal that ever hooked up and invested in an asshole, her mother did too.

All I can say to her, all these years later, is... Thank goodness Tom has always remained in my very valuable “lessons learned” file!

Ya Gotta Laugh About It!!

...HER STAIRWAY TO HEAVEN

You know the saying... "Weddings & Funerals"
TAKEN: FEBRUARY 8th, 2014

It was a little more than a year ago that I stood at the base of this stairway and snapped this picture. When I posted it to my Facebook, my caption simply read, “It’s a beautiful day for a February wedding!”

Well, last Friday had me standing at the base of the stairway again. Except this time, I was faced with attending a Celebration of Life for the Mother of the Groom from that very memorable day.

Though the Priest tried to explain who she was & how loyal she was to her faith, I left the church feeling he'd not done her legacy the justice she had ultimately earned.

For instance, though he mentioned that she sang in the choir and was a member of the Woman’s League, he failed to mention was that when she was healthy, she walked up the hill from her home and never once missed Mass. She also attended every funeral, to pray for those that had passed and to pray for the grieving families in their time of need. What he didn't say, was this stairway was a very large part of who she was her entire life. 

Friday, the fourteen of my first cousins that flocked in attendance (three that had flown in) wept. You see, what he failed to mention was that she had affected all of us in a very positive and supportive manner during our formative years and beyond. Though I'm sure we all have different memories, I found her home, and my memories surrounding it, to be some of the most cherished for me. Why? Whenever I was there...She always made me feel that I was loved. 

I have to believe that with a heart as big as hers, St. Peter wasn't waiting for her to let her in; I'm positive that once she passed, he instantly arrived at her bedside and immediately gave her a personal escort to a place she'd envisioned her entire life. I have to believe, that my photo simply illustrates the memorable journey they took together, via her personal stairway to Heaven. 

Rest In Peace Auntie Phyllis. We all love you and will miss you very much.

I KICKED NEGATIVITY TO THE CURB!

Right after returning from my holiday and just before Christmas, I made a couple of pretty significant adjustments. Knowing it was going to be a long winter, I made the effort to reflect on what was working for me and what was not. You see, I had finally decided to purge the biggest bullshit items from my life; realigning my positive energy and kicking the negative garbage to the curb. 

The process that followed wasn't unlike cleaning out your garage. Hard decisions had to be made with regards to what was going to be entitled to stay and what definitely had to go. Envision yourself standing among a bunch of generally cherished clutter, having to make hard choices. Do you select your favourite rubber boots that now have holes in the soles or your favourite tennis rackets (which no longer has strings, not to mention you no longer play the sport). That said, once I had resigned myself to my choices I felt relief. That was more than two months ago.

Well, low and behold, night before last, I get a text message from the oldest and most comfortable pair of rubber boots that I'd kicked to the curb. Suffice is to say, all of those hurt feelings came rushing back, only to have the ones telling me that I had made the right decision take charge. Suffice is to say, I don't believe our paths will cross ever again. Sad but true, I have no desire to feed that expired parking meter; and Lord knows they'll never make the effort.

Quirky sent me a tobogganing video...
Holy Snow in NASHVILLE Batman!

TAKEN: FEBRUARY 2014

Just like those once new pair of boots, over the years, I have been fortunate enough to meet people across the country and into the US. They easily found a window into my life but change in circumstance usually represented a change to our 'frenergy'.

Then, there's my Quirky Sidekick. He and I have created something (that I believe) few could ever replicate. What is the key? We feel the other is worth the effort. 

Let's face it, maintaining a true friendship as your life evolves and you change as a person is really hard work. I've tried to hold together certain friendships but it seems it's only the quirkest one of all that has truly made it.

I suppose it is because it's natural, truly unforced and most certainly... unconditional.

It's as simple as that!

HAPPY in MEMORY OF MY MAMA DAY

I got up this morn and was at my desk by six.  For the second night in a row, I didn’t sleep very well, so I just got up and at 'em. About an hour in, I checked my email to be greeted by a friendly hello and a “Happy Valentines Day”. Though I instantly greeted them back, I didn’t have the energy to explain why the annual Hallmark frenzy's something I have never really acknowledged.

Around nine, doing my very best bad hair/fuzzy slipper shuffle, I wandered into the kitchen and announced to my husband that I felt the need to Blog about my Mom today; then added, “I guess I should wish you a Happy Valentines Day”. My husband simply hugged me, kissed me on the forehead and no other words were spoken. For us, today has never been anything other than an  In Memory of My Mama Day.

I was four years old when this photo was taken.
Photo is  © yagottalaughaboutit.com

It’s hard to believe that it’s been twenty eight years today since my Mother passed. As I was daydreaming over my coffee before dawn, I remember it was shortly after midnight when my Dad woke and discovered she was gone.

After all of her suffering, my immediate thought (all those years ago) was that it was meant to be.

You see, she was just that stubborn.

If she knew she didn't want to take her journey on Friday the 13th, she'd of dug into her depths and simply refused to let go. That was my Mama. Always in control, never doing anything she didn’t want to!

At my ripe old age of 29, I have come to realize that we are all just a genetic discombobulation of both of our parents. Good traits, bad habits, even mannerisms all relate back to how we are hard wired. That said, not a day goes by that I don't thank my Mother for giving me her Business sense and her gam's. She had the most amazing mind, that was complimented nicely with a great pair of legs and beautiful smile.

Thanks Mom. Today I remember you.... I love and miss you very much.

IF YOU'VE GOT IT ~ FLAUNT IT!

In the early part of 2006, I was hired by a gentleman (that was branching out on his own) to do a Business Plan. Even now, the one thing I remember most, was the constant need of reinforcement. Each meeting, I would carefully remind him... 'clients don't want to know what you know, until they know that you care'. Suffice is to say, he went an entire year without ever being hired.

The complete and total opposite applies to the two gents I met with this week. I've blogged of them here before, as we all use to work for my former employer. As the then Sale Manager, I remember verbalizing to them both, that I would gladly add either to the Team in a heartbeat. They, unlike my 2006 bloke, have "IT"!

Since my leaving in 2013, they've partnered and gone into Business together. I am not exageratting when I say that they personify the perfect partnership. One is a micro thinker and the other has a more macro approach. Their work ethic is unstoppable and they are life-long friends. The added bonus is that they are fortunate that the necessary elements of communication and trust are naturally predominant. About a week ago, they called me and asked for a meeting.

I knew instantly they understood the difference between being in the Business and being the person that looks at their Business. I was impressed that when the hard questions were asked, they were answered very honestly. I'm excited for them as they have all the pieces to a really great puzzle. Like I said, 'these guys have IT'. There’s no pretension, no ego, no excuses; just some very solid and extremely respectable goals. 

That's Glenner on the end with his head down....
He's simply checking his phone to make sure his SALES are up!

As I sat across the table from them I realized that they represent the next generation of Business in Muskoka. That said, I would be lying if I didn’t admit that I left our meeting a tad disappointed. I wished our buddy Glenner would have been sitting at the table and a part of this amazing dialogue. I know he's killing it in the Caribbean but I still miss him, not to mention my ability to brainstorm with him, when need be.

DIRR-PURR-DIRR Peeps.... DIR-PURR-DIRR. Which is code for absolutely nothing. I guess I will just always remember those words fondly. You see, it's how we use to greet each other.

Every... Single... Day.

My Lunchtime Luxury...

When I was heading home last weekend to get ready to go North, I passed a Yard Sale on the main stretch of road before my house. I wasn't after anything specific, I just love a great Yard Sale. You know what they say (totally in a non-Fruit of The Loom context) "...One person’s junk is another person's treasure!”

After about half an hour, I was exactly twenty dollars poorer, and I’d I left their driveway with a couple of very cool items. A new to me gas powered whipper snipper for the cottage, and a huge box of used books.  I’m grateful I didn't have to buy a new weed whacker but in my opinion, it was the books were the real score.

Next Up? Mixed Blessings!
Taken: August 6th, 2014

I don’t think I have ever consistently read as much as I have this summer. Don’t get me wrong, to some extent or another I love to read every single weekend; but since moving to the cottage, I read every single day. 

Early in the morning, right before bed, and for an hour everyday at noon. Some set an alarm to get up in the morning and I set mine to tell me to stop for my lunch. 

I grab what I from the fridge, snatch up my book, then head to the dock. If it's raining I stay under the picnic table umbrella, and on those cold July days I just survived, I curled up in front of the wood stove. I purposefully get up from my desk & stop what I'm doing.

I am a little embarrassed to admit that other than family there are only two people that I share my time out here with. One is a client that I'm training and the other's my closest and most trusted confidant. I have invited the latter for lunch and a swim here next week as I am very much in need of a solid sounding board.

Looking out on the water over lunch today they cheerfully popped into my thought process. They'd emailed this morning ordering sunshine for the day, which is code for me to make my famous roast chicken (their fave). I wonder if they'd mind eating quietly while I read?

I'm thinking NOT... but I had to wonder and smile just the same.

Oh, if you have some recommended reading for me.... Don't be shy. Send me a note.

We're all friends here.

My Mom....

Happy Mother's Day Mummy.... I miss you very much.
Taken: July 1947

This is my Mom. 

If you haven’t met her via a previous post, allow me to introduce you to my mother Inez.

She was 17 years old when this photo was taken and the only one I own that was taken before she was married.

Though I have very few pictures of her, that doesn't mean that all of my  life long memories aren't vivid, colourful, and still very much alive.

She was a fighter.

She won most every battle she set her mind to, but sadly, she eventually lost the war. She passed in 1987 of ALS (more commonly known to the masses as Lou Gehrig's Disease).

Any sadness in my reflection aside, I would be remiss if I didn't acknowledge that today is OUR day. The one & only that is dedicated especially to the both of us for a job well done.

Happy Mother's Day Mummy...

I love and miss you very much.

H IS FOR HANDSOME

Over the years, because of the industries I've worked in, I've worked alongside far more men than women. I've worked with the odd Herb Tarlek, a ton of Les Nessmans' and only one Johnny Fever. Oh, there’s been the whole bunch of ‘God’s gift to Women’ men, which I willingly admit are the absolute worst.

I remember one such idiot about fifteen years ago. He always made a point of sitting next to me. Then, in this particular Board meeting, he made his move. Without warning, he took a deep breath and whispered into my ear “you smell amazing.” To which I quickly locked my eyes with his, approached his personal space bubble and whispered into his ear… “I don’t do charity work.” Mission accomplished: he never bothered me again!

I guess my point is that someone that's typically defined as good looking by society, doesn't automatically make them handsome in my books. A truly handsome man is the complete package. Not only in how they treat women (both socially and professionally) but that how they outwardly appear, only scratches the surface of what’s on the inside.

I am so blessed to have some truly handsome men in my life. My husband, my boys, (Michael, Timmy, Zack) are all at the top on the top of my heap. However, the most handsome man to ever enter my life, left before his time, in 2005. 

My Dad & I soaking up the sun.
TAKEN: SPRING 1967

Athletic by nature, he was fiercely intelligent;  he had charisma and a great sense of humour, as well as a very true love of people. 

He was caring, giving, with a heart so big I am surprised it didn't burst from sheer goodness before it stopped beating on its own.

My late father Herve was the most handsome man I’ve ever met and suspect I ever will.

He WAS the complete package. Not only was he handsome, he was my friend.

...and I miss him every single day.

An Interesting Sunday At Gull Lake Park

Night before last we hosted a Christmas Open House for our children and a couple dozen of their closet friends. While I was snapping a group picture in front of our Xmas tree, someone accidentally stumbled back and broke the hand painted wine glass I was given for Christmas.

As I've mentioned, my husband and I have never really exchanged gifts. Yet, considering what I have been going through in the last few months, the thought behind his unexpected gift was perfect. My wine glass had small colourful paw prints on it, not to mention some neat little hand painted cartoons that were very applicable. Around the centre section of the wine glass (written in calligraphy) it read “Some days you’re the dog. Some days you’re the hydrant”.

Knowing I was disappointed that it got busted, he asked me this morning if I wanted to trek back to the store where he'd bought it in to see if he could buy me another one. Hope in hand we trekked and I am sad to report it was not meant to be.

Leaving Gravenhurst & heading home we figured we best let our pups a minute to do their business. As a result, we ventured to the closest park. Pulling into the parking lot I realized I'd spent many a summer Sunday night in the park as a child, yet I had never once been to the park in the winter.Today was an interesting and reflective very first for me.

Aside from a sea of trucks and snowmobile trailers the were abandoned in the parking lot the place was desolate. The sky was dreary and the trees were heavily laden with snow. I could hear their large limbs cracking as I made my way to the lake. 

Something tells me Tommy Hunter cancelled tonight show on The Barge!
Taken: Sunday December 29th. 2013

Just looking at those familiar fibreglass walls instantly snapped me back into my childhood. Heading to the barge on Sunday nights was one of the many 'somethings' we did as a family. As I stood there in the moment I felt like a ten year old all over again. 

In a flash it was like there were people everywhere. I envisioned Pierre was racing me to the playground as my parents bickered about where to set up the lawn chairs; and, using all of my charms, I was begging my Dad for money for a blue freezie at the Snack Bar. Then, as my mind focused on the reality at hand, I remembered the venue being so much bigger when I was a kid.

Photo's taken, standing there all alone, the silence felt kind of eerie. Matter a fact it felt like it could have been a backdrop for a zombie movie. I don’t think I’ve ever seen a winter zombie movie, so yet again another first for me. That thought right there took my personal tally of firsts today to two. WOW!

Now, if you'll excuse me, I have to go pour myself a lovely glass of wine into a Red Solo Cup.

Well, truthfully it's a Mason Jar.

Because a really good wine needs to be surrounded by glass!

Welcome Back Zack!

For the first time in months, I have been exchanging emails with my friend Zack. He’s doing well, has been as busy as me, so there are no hard feelings. Like bringing anyone up to speed with what you've been up to - there are always a million questions.

The best part about reconnecting with a good friend is that there is zero bullshit. You pick up where you left off.

It's as simple as that!

Before I got married, I was insecure and wanted to be everyone's friend. (So much so that my middle name could have been ‘placate’.)

Once married, financial constraints limited my husband’s social reach, so I was labelled a bit of a bitch. When the kids arrived, my life took on a life of their own. Free time was non-existent; so suffice is to say when the nest emptied, I was pretty much lost.

For the last couple of years, it was Zack that talked to me over and over about open communication with my spouse. It was Zack that told me that anything was possible, and it was Zack that gave me the strength to never give up. What can I say other than I've really missed him. 

It’s not that we deliberately let our friendship wane; I just had other things in my life I needed to focus on. Best part? He totally gets all of that. I’m glad I am going to see him again because he's living proof...

Living proof that you're always hardest on the ones you love.

The Genetics of Baking

My mother was an amazing baker. She inherited the gift from her mother, and handed both of her "B" genes down my sister and I. Andrea’s got moms baking gene, and I've got her other "B" gene. Her business gene.

Once my mom was confined to a wheelchair, there were a few things she knew she'd have to teach my dad. At the top of her list, was teaching him how to cook. By the time she passed, my Dad was outstanding in the kitchen. The other feather in her cap, was that she had also taught him how to bake.

Until the day he died, my dad was a pie guy. Not the 3.1514926 kinda Pi, but the lemon meringue, sugar, and hot apple kind. All of his creations were absolutely wunderbar. When my kids were small, he use to ring me up and tell me he was baking pies. He knew I especially loved his apple pie, so if he could put his hands on the right species, he was baking me a pie.

The minute Jukebox was born, he quit smoking. Suffice is to say, the weight gain (due to eating instead of smoking) quickly followed. My husband and I knew there was an issue when he arrived at the door one Sunday morning with his baked goods offering for Sunday supper. We were a little confused when there was a generous slice missing.

I remember asking him “did you have to test ours to make sure it was safe?” Matter a fact he replied "No... I ate mine last night, and I wanted another piece for breakfast!” I can still see the look on his face as he held out the partially eaten pie. Like it was completely normal. In hindsight it was. It was classic Herve!

Who says I am genetically challenged?
It's a beautiful site and smell tres yummy!
Taken: October 14th, 2013

Anyhoo, in honour of my parents, I baked a pie this morning. Strawberry-Rhubarb to be exact.

I was kinda shocked it only took me 70-75 minutes from start to finish. My competitive nature tells me I could have been done faster, but to hone my skill set, I decided to invest the time.

Who am I kidding? The only reason I spent the extra time was because the label read... “For best results ~ BAKE from frozen!”

Happy Thanksgiving Peeps.

Give thanks, and remember to always keep smiling.

RIP Mr. Rutherford. You Will Be Missed.

John Harvey Rutherford was a great teacher. He made you want to strive for absolute excellence, and settle for nothing less. He, had an amazing sense of humour. He, was a great leader.

John Harvey Rutherford
1924-2013

I feel extremely lucky to have been a part of his 1983 Concert Band. It was the last he showcased before he retired. (At that point as a group, we'd been together since grade seven.)

To this very day I can still remember our final concert. 

I can still see him on the podium that warm night in June. He had our respect. We idolized his command. More than that, I remember the sound. So refined and pure. We were perfection, and he was elated.

Back in the day, I played the French Horn. I was partnered with Judy Murray, and together we played second string.

I lived 9/10’s of a mile from the school. How do I remember that? Kids that lived a mile away got to ride the bus. I did not. 

I remember I use to try and practice at home at least twice a month. Let me tell ya, lugging that baby up Hunt’s Hill, made me wish I played the clarinet! That awkward case may have been heavy, but Mr. Rutherford inspired you to want to do the work. I am proud he instilled that valuable life skill, because it's still very much a part of me today.

All this week his former students have reminisced about the impact his teaching made on them at that significant stage in their life. I was one of the lucky ones. Lucky enough to remain in a small town where he and I would occasionally rub elbows. 

Last night I got to say goodbye to an amazing teacher, father, husband, mentor, and musical genius.

He was a great man.

He was 89.

Happy Discovery Day Smartie

Smartie's Discovery Bay Campsite
Not to be confused with Discovery DAY. Which is a holiday throughout the Yukon today.
Glad I found that little ditty out in the wee hours of this morning!
Taken: June 9th, 2013

When enjoying cottage life, my phone is rarely by my side. The God's honest chance of getting something other than my voicemail on the weekend is slim to none at best. As a result, I haven't talked to Smartie (except via voicemail) in almost three weeks. 

Last night, well past 11pm, I was rattled awake by my cell phone ringing in my ear. Though I never take my phone to bed with me, at bedtime I made a point of setting it atop the headboard. Why? Let's just say I was hopeful I would be getting a call. 

Turns out I fell asleep watching a movie Saturday night; then I realized Sunday morn, that I had two missed calls. When I reversed looked up the number, I knew the calls were coming from a landline in Merritt BC. That's when I realized that Smartie was at his friend Monique's. Like the BFF he truly is, for the third weekend in a row, he tried to call me yet again. Knowing he'd be heading back to the Yukon yesterday afternoon, last night I patiently waited for his call.

Boy was I sleeping soundly when my phone woke me. I flipped on the light and headed down to the kitchen in an effort to wake myself up. After almost an hour on the phone he announced that he should let me get back to bed. At that point I was wide awake. When our call was about to end, last thing I said was "I love you... I'll call you at the office tomorrow".

"Call me at the house" he said. "Tomorrow is Discovery Day in the Yukon. It's a civic holiday here" he continued.

Hmmm, he had a holiday today yet got me out of bed and kept me on the phone until after midnight. All I could do was burst into laughter. That last bit of dialogue has to be the epitome of a Mars/Venus moment. It turns out it made no matter. Back to bed I went, and I was sound asleep in no time.

Happy Discovery Day Brian. Just to prove I pay attention when you send me stuff, I posted the Discovery Bay camping pic you emailed me from your trip in June. Your photo is absolutely amazing; I know (because we've already chatted) that your day was too.

As an aside? Seriously, how cold up is it up there at the end of September? Never mind. Don't tell me, or I'll change my mind about making the trek!

Will I need a winter coat and snow pants?

DRAT... I freakin' knew it!!

Happy 85th Birthday Hervé…

Morning coffee on the very last birthday he was alive to celebrate.
Taken: June 2005

Today is June the 9th and it's the day my father was born.

Hard to believe if he were alive he would be 85 years old today. 

What I find even harder to believe is that he left me eight years ago this June 23rd. 

Makes no matter the lapse of time, as I think of him every single day.

I remember absolutely everything about my dad; the sound of his voice, the look in his eyes when he smiled, most importantly the love that he had for life. His work ethic was one thing but his loyalty to his family and his friends was so unconditional it bordered indescribable.

To this very day he remains the voice inside my children`s head, my husband`s closest confidant, and the spirit inside me to never give up and never stop trying. I use to think that my personal success came from my mother pushing me at the rink all those years. It may have been part of the foundation, but as a mother and wife I know that all the finishing touches were a tag team effort.

I couldn`t have done it without my husbands support, and he couldn`t have carried the kids and I without my father`s love and support. A cold beer in the carport is sometimes all you need when you've got three screaming kids and a wife/daughter that's a total bitch. That right there is the God honest truth.

Happy 85th Birthday Dad.

We love and miss you very much. xoxox

I is for… INEZ

Growing up I remember always thinking what an odd first name my mother had. It had so many pronunciation options; to this day, I am not really sure which is correct.  Just like her name, she was unique.

I know that a lot of people reading this will have mixed emotions about my mother. At the end of the day; she was just that, my mother. You always look to both of your parents to understand how you've evolved into the person you are today. When it comes to my mom, I know that I have inherited some very specific traits.

My mother loved music and books. I was lucky enough to get her amazing 78 rpm record collection, and my brother Pierre was gifted her wall of books. Just like her, I too love both very much. She had an amazing ability to manage and save money, complimented by a very astute business sense. Ding, ding, ding, I lucked out in those departments too. Then there's my smile. I have been blessed with my mother’s smile.

April 10, 2013 - INEZ (Perrault - St.Onge)

Photo Credit: The North Bay Nugget (circa 1948)
TAG: Raising Awareness About ALS.blogspot.com

You know what they say: A son is a son until he takes a wife. A daughter stays yours all of your life…

I did just that. She passed in February 1987 but I got to spend the last six months with her every single day.

I was her caregiver. We kept  each  other company, and I never once let her know that I was really scared too.

All these decades later I think of her often. How she was so young when her life ended.

There are so many things I wish she could have been alive to witness. She really did have a beautiful heart. I was just the one that got to see it most often; I will always be eternally grateful for that.

Thanks Mom. You did a really great job with me. Just like you taught me... I fight for what I believe in and I've never given up!

Missing My Daisy Marie

I worked yesterday then headed out to do a few chores. I felt like buying myself a new movie but as always when you set out to shop for something you want, you can never quite find what you’re in the mood for. Walking on the wild side, I splurged on a People magazine and a small packet of chocolate Easter eggs.

Before heading to the checkout I decided to browse the book section of the store. I immediately came across a paperback that had a picture of a beagle on the front. Without hesitation I picked up the book and said my words out loud. “Oh my Daisy Marie, I miss you every single day” and I truly do.

Cooling off in the lake with my Daisy Marie
Taken: August Long Weekend 2011

I am still amazed that after all these months the attachment is so strong. I think it’s because for a very long time I felt like she was all I had. 

We spent all of my free time together. She was the best comfort a girl could ask for. She always ensured that I never felt like I was ever alone or lonely. 

I use to talk to her. I use to tell her my problems and I swear she could sense when I was sad. Lord knows she knew when I was mad; she also knew that my anger was never aimed at her. She was my very best friend.

I look back at where I was a year ago and just how far I have come. Though I have made some drastic changes in my life I know that there are more to come. As selfish as it may be, I wish I still had my best friend with me. That way I wouldn't have to go through the motions all alone. I have great memories yet there's so much I want to tell her.

Glass half full? Maybe I'll start a journal just for her. That way it'll feel like I can talk to her again. Trouble is she won't be next to me hogging the bed. As silly as it sounds, that's one of the things I really miss the most.

My Quirky Sidekick!

Me and My Quirky Sidekick Tim
Taken: Spring of 2003

I love people. 

Positive people with positive energy, and I always make the extra effort to keep the silly naysayers at bay. Call me quirky.

I am quirky. Always have been. Always will be. 

Appears my point may be moot because I'm very lucky to have tons of family, friends, as well as varying acquaintances in my life. 

All amazing folks but all these years later, I know I am blessed to still be connected to my one and only Quirky Sidekick!

Tim "Timmy Twos" McAllister came into my life after he graduated from the University of Alabama, and relocated into Muskoka thanks to Mr. Palmer. Just like that we were teamed and inseparable from the start. 

Finance (unlike Accounting) compiled the smallest department within the gigantic machine but it made no matter. Let's face it, when it came to being in the trenches with a boss like Dave Grant, we learned quickly that there was safety in numbers. Even if it meant that number was only two! From the get go, we gelled and kicked some serious ass.

Our synergy was the real deal. A rarity in comparison to most work relationships. Just like myself, after leaving the big Corporate machine, he built a successful business from nothing. When the banks fell, like most consultants, I endured a very tough year. My call for heartfelt advice was to Tim; asking a question, that only someone that had endured what we had, could answer. 

My question: If you had to start over and build it from nothing would you do it again? His answer didn't surprise me. It was no. After several lengthy conversations, I knew that I didn't want to do it again either. I knew he understood first hand the journey I had taken. I hadn't slept through the night in five years.

With some serious geography keeping us apart; the last couple of years, the internet has kept us in touch in place of the telephone. Out of the blue I got an email from him at work on Saturday. I apologized for been lax and asked him to text me his new cell phone number so we can stay closer.

This morning, drafting this post, my phone buzzed and blinked. It was from a number I didn't recognize. I opened it to read "Hi Rhondi!! XO Quirky" all I could do was smile from ear to ear. 

What can I say? We will be together forever in quirkiness. That's a promise I know we are going to keep!

What’s Behind YOUR Fridge?

A couple of weeks ago we got a very sexy new fridge. Actually, we’ve had it for quite awhile, it's just been holding court in the garage for all to see. It seems Canada’s Worst Handyman has been overbooked with public appearances, so the task of installation never got crossed off my list. After a much heated Saturday morning chat (that ended with me bellowing “I am sick and tired looking at that piece of shit”) we established a plan.

In protest; certain kitchen cabinets were removed, others just moved, and a small counter top adjusted. With the opening prepared, out came ye ole fridge. After Bertha was in the middle of the kitchen floor we both looked down to find one lone soldier. It was a wallet size copy of our engagement photo.

Tony had hair and is totally rocking the 'Porn Stash'.
Me? Holy shoulder pads Batman. Nice mullet BTW!!
Taken: December 1st, 1987 

When I flipped over the grungy old pic, my hand writing identified it as just that. It was dated December 1^st, 1987.

As I dusted it off, we both admitted that we remembered the day it taken. I found it amazing that in the midst of all our frustration, we were brought together by a certain moment in time. 

That specific Saturday was the first time in a very long time our gloves were off.

What's the first thing I thought of when I picked up the only soldier under our old fridge?

Poppa reminding me to play nice.

He always was our best mediator!

Hey Dad… Guess What I Found?

Thanks again Habitat Restore!
Taken: January 12th, 2013

After my Mom died, that following summer Dad and I packed his house up of any extras he felt he wouldn't use. Because he wasn’t ready to donate the items, we loaded up his car, and shipped the boxes to the lake.

The next time I arrived at Camp, I noticed he had personally saved the gold painted Petro Canada Olympic glasses from a life in storage. He had neatly placed all of them on the shelf with all of the other mismatched glassware. 

From that very moment, those glasses became the ‘Official Holder of Rhondi’s Camp Spirits’. Over the years, one by one they slowly broke, until there was only one left.

When Dad died, we had his girlfriend help herself to whatever she wanted, as they had been partners on and off for almost 20 years. I remember being emotional when she took MY very last glass. 

I mean that in jest. We never really noticed that the other used the same glass until there was only one left. So you can imagine those last few summers at Camp had that particular glass on the hot seat.

It started late one afternoon when I spied her pouring herself a glass of beer. In the whiniest voice imaginable, and at the top of my lungs, I yelled "Daaaaaaaaaddddddy! She's using my glass!!  We all howled with laughter. That moment in itself was the start of it all, it was on! I really do recall being disappointed at the discovery it was gone; but the matter a fact was, it was just as much hers, as it was mine. 

When the Habitat Restore opened here a few years ago I was given hope. I’d see several styles of the same series of glasses being donated but never the one that I used to love at Poppa’s Camp. I am almost embarrassed to admit that my quest had me check the Restore every single Saturday morning for over a year.

My hard work paid off because I eventually hit the mother load. I was estatic when I finally discovered a set of four of MY glasses in amazing condition. Two stayed home and two made their way to Orillia Lake. The two at home suffered a brutal death by dishwasher so one was borrowed from the cottage. The third dishwasher homicide had only the one at the cottage alive and well. It too eventually got broken. That was the summer of 2010.

I stopped going to the Restore every Saturday but when I did happen to stop in I would always check. Last Saturday there was only one. It was very well worn; and by its faded gold logo, I can tell it had survived a life in the dishwasher, only to find its way to me.

I know it's a silly story but it's true. Every time I open the glassware cupboard and see it, or pick it up and move it, I'll think of my Dad. I can hear his voice. The sound of his laughter. Most of all I hear the shuffle of his feet in his slipper two sizes too large.

I have tears in my eyes as I type. All over a silly little glass. Who knew? My entire family that's who!

Jaysen, Jukebox, Loretta (using MY glass), Goob,
Poppa, Shannyn & Tony with Staccs
Taken: August 1995

"I Miss You"

For those of you that don’t know me very well, I am a list person. My desk at work is filled with colourful Post-it notes of tasks I need to accomplish. Every Saturday & Sunday morning, over my only cup of coffee, I make a list.

My dad Herve wasn’t always a list person but became one after he retired. He approached his tasks a little differently than I but he was a list person just the same.  

I use to ask him... “Dad, when are you going to get around to doing so and so” and his standard reply was always… “Rhondi, I have a list. Everyday I look at my list and pick three things that I want to get done. If something shows up at the top that I don’t want to do, I don't do it. It goes to the bottom... I know it will eventually make its way up to the top again.”

I can hear him speaking the words. I miss him. I miss him every single day, which brings me to this mornings question. Why do we miss someone?

When it comes to my dad, the math is easy. He was my beacon (taught me to golf, ski, & fish). My personal confidant (even though I always knew he liked my husband better). And my life coach (yes maam, I can change a furnace filter with ease and I love to do the yard work). So I guess I’m not really talking about him per say.

There are people I miss on a daily basis. Some are near to me, and some far away from me, but I still miss them. It’s hard to express to someone that you miss them. It’s not an emotion easily verbalized. I suppose that's why I rarely say anything to the person I am missing.

I guess the best practice may be to just acknowledge the void as just that, a dulling pain that can’t be soothed. I'll just close my eyes, think of all the good I have experienced, smile and quietly keep my thoughts of angst to myself.

Now back to my list. Hmmm, what shall I prepare for dinner? I just wrote down chicken.