SHE's BACK ON THE BLADES

For those of you that are new to this silly little electronic journal, I use to figure skate. I’d like to think that my parents kept me so heavily involved because of the sheer raw talent I possessed but that would be a lie. They kept me at the rink and on the road as much as possible, so that I had absolutely no time to focus on boys and dating. You see, my mother had a deep seeded fear that I’d get pregnant. I remember she use to always say to me, “you know Rhondi, once you start doing that (meaning sex) it's not like you’re just able to stop...” Guess what, she was absolutely correct!!

My skating carnival character 'Cookie'
(Appearing in Bracebridge Herald Gazette)
TAKEN: APRIL 1982

As I sit here giggling, I couldn't help but reminisce yesterday as I decided to once again lace up my skates for a Fire & Ice Festival we were having in my wonderful little town. Rummaging through our storage to locate my custom made John Knebli skates, I was trying to remember exactly when the last time was I had laced them up.

I decided that it had to of been one of Jukeboxes’ February birthday parties. If I had to venture a guess, I would say it’d been a little over a decade ago. I could still jump and spin back then but I fear those days are gone. No worries. Because at the end of the day, I am all about life experiences right now and the fact that I wanted to at least try and skate's considered a feather in my proverbial skating cap.

When I was growing up, figure skating and hockey were something that everybody had the opportunity to participate in. I'm not minimizing the expense but it could generally be handled by a one income household. Now, parents almost need to sell a  less talented offspring, as well as a viable organ on the black market, to see the amount of ice time and year round training I received. That said, I always knew from a very young age that I was on a journey my mother never had the chance to take.

The last time I skated, I mean seriously competed, was at an audition for the Ice Capades at Maple Leaf Gardens. We hit the dressing rooms after the show, then officially hit the ice close to midnight. Again, it was my mother that had discovered the opportunity for me and she bullied my oldest brother in to putting us up in the city, coming to the show, then driving us back to Muskoka in the wee hours of that Saturday morning.

After my skate that night, I was offered the ability to apply to appear with their second tier show that toured smaller cities across Canada and the US. All I'll say, is that my skate at Maple Lead Gardens was the last time I truly skated. I gave it up cold turkey about a week later and never looked back. I had finished high school and was working full-time to save. Let's just say the years of being a rink rat had run their course.

I vividly remember that time and the moment I decided to pack my skate bag up for good. I suspect if my mother were alive, she'd attribute the extremely bad decision I'd made to stop figure skating, to all the really great sex I'd ultimately yet to discover. For those of you reading that knew her, you know first hand that she was never wrong.

Peeps, relax. Thirty plus year later, ya most definitely just gotta laugh about it!

I BLEED BASKETBALL!

A couple of summers ago, we had an Africa hot early pre-summer Muskoka heatwave. It wasn't the elevated temps that made it memorable, it was that our next door neighbours were expecting their first child. I was living at the cottage and doing the ten mile commute, while Goob worked and lived at the house in town. At home for the day (late in her pregnancy) I innocently asked her if he was behaving.

GOOB n' ME. Love that he's rockin' his classic Raptors Jersey!
TAKEN: DECEMBER 2014

“Other than the weekend pick-up games of basketball at 2am in the morning, I wouldn't think anyone was over there,” she said. 

"I can sleep through loud music” she continued. “It's the thunk, thunk, thunk, thunk of the ball on the driveway... It's like a slow drip to the forehead when you can't sleep!.” 

Naturally, I apologized.  Told her I’d speak to him and without hesitation, gave her very some very sound advice; if it happened again, simply go to the nearest open window and yell... "GOOB! PUT THE BALL AWAY AND GO THE F*CK TO BED!!” 

Taking the 'unconventional parenting approach' made no matter. The competitive, testosterone filled young men (we totally consider family) let it happen again. The net was taken down the next day and eventually disposed of. That said, though a childhood relic was put to pasture, we've never waivered  as a die hard basketball family.

I am officially going on the record that I am NOT a hockey fan. If you want to know why I don't 'bleed blue' the answer is simple. I bleed basketball. At this particular moment, I just can't confidently attach a colour to my passion. You see, not only can the Raps NOT decide on a logo; they seem to be a tad confused on which uniform colour to wear. Makes no matter. My philosophy has been deeply routed and totally ingrained since my children were small. 

GO RAPS GO... #WE THE NORTH!

Officially Closed For Business!

As predicted, I awoke this morning with bells on and a mission in mind. When I have a lot of different things I need to accomplish, I get myself organized before I even start. That way, with a plan of attack and I am far more productive.

Still in my jammies, one look at the local weather forecast had me instantly change my list of things to do. Without hesitation, I knew first up had to be closing the cottage. So I hauled out my long johns, located my gloves, and chose a winter coat. I threw that puppy on and SHAZAM! Found twenty bucks in the left hand pocket so I was giddy from the get go.

Once I landed, everything went like clockwork. Started in the upstairs bedroom and worked my way down (packing and cleaning as I went). Keep in mind I'd carted crap in there since March and most of it had to make its way up the hill today.

Clothes are clothes. I have cottage items that stay put but my 182 bathing suits needed to make their way home. The suits were nothing compared to the shock I received packing the upstairs bathroom. I have a floor to ceiling shelf and that sucker was packed. An entire bag full bag of hair and skin care products alone. Holy small fortune Batman!

Peace Out Orillia Lake. See ya next season!

As I headed downstairs I was amazed at what had to be packed. I can’t believe the amount of food I lugged up the stairs. So much so that I had to bring an additional chest freezer in from the garage to house the overflow. The good news is that there was little waste.

Everything from the outside was brought inside and everything was put where it needs to be for the duration. The downstairs bedroom is packed to the rafters and the door was sealed so that if I do go in over the winter it will heat quickly.

I’m not sad the cottage season is over. I love winter. I know I’ll enjoy downhill skiing on Sundays and I’ve been thinking. I haven’t owned a pair of cross country skis since before the kids were born. Seeing that I won't run during the winter, maybe I can cross country ski the golf course with the dogs. I've walked the course via snowshoe for years because I've always had a dog on a lead. Knowing they'll both stay within earshot? That right there makes me want to go shopping!

Peace Out Orillia Lake… You’re officially closed for business!

♫♪♫ Deck the Halls with Sleeves of Golf Balls...♪♫♪

Driving home from the Fall Cottage Life Show Sunday night I made an executive decision. The decision's to get the hell out of here for Christmas and head south. Just like that, a road trip was born.

Dear Santa,
I've been a really good girl. Please bring sun
and make sure my putter shows up.
Thanks. R

Once I'd made the decision, it was like it was meant to be. I initially looked at a number of destinations; but after speaking with a very nice gentleman yesterday,  I've been busy dotting my i’s and crossing my t’s on a rental agreement. An agreement that will house me in a pet-friendly condo just 200 ft from the ocean in South Carolina. 

The upcoming festive season has been on my mind for quite a while. I guess driving home Sunday I finally asked myself "why wouldn't I do this?" 

As a family, we started heading south for Xmas when the kids were small. We always made reindeer feed Christmas Eve, and had a full Christmas dinner the following day. It was relaxing, it was different. I always loved that we'd have to wear sunglasses to drink our coffee in the morning. Just like me, the overall experience was unconventional.

There are a lot of really personal reasons I don’t want to hang around for the festive season. None which are applicable to this particular post (so be a peach and don't inbox me and ask why). I have invited the twins to join but no matter what they decide I'll leave once business officially closes for the break.

Based on my calculation, I will sleep just outside Washington DC the first night. Well rested, I will check in the following day with time left over. I'll do the groceries, put up a little tree, hang my festive lights on the balcony, and spit polish my golf clubs (not necessarily in that order).

In booking my stay I was told that in the off season "well behaved dogs can go off leash." I'm thinking that has to be better than a box of really great dog treats right there. What the girls don't know is that they have to be crated when I am on the golf course. 

NOTE TO SELF: Buy LOTS of really GREAT dog treats. The girls are gonna seriously be pissed at the amount of time they  have to be crated!

It’s Hill and Gully Running Baby!

I love to run. When I was figure skating year round, cardio was always a critical building block. There was always a very specific approach to physical conditioning and dry land running was a one of the bigger pieces. From a very young age, there was never a sport I didn't enjoy 110%.

I have always been active. This quest I have been on the last couple of years has me rediscovering a wide range of things I had totally forgotten I loved in my past life. As a result, April of 2011 had me lacing up my running shoes for the first time in decades. Not being in tip top shape, I decided not to run around an indoor track nor through the streets of town, instead I ventured into the gully behind my house and followed the tracks along the Muskoka River.

My first few times out, the trek up and down through the gully to get to my stomping ground, was pretty much exercise enough. As the spring turned to summer (and summer into fall) my determination persevered. My breathing became less laboured and my legs grew stronger. Winter had me working my skis and snowshoes and true to form, I was back down the gully and running the tracks in the spring of 2012.

Dot's always been my running mate but once or twice a week I would take my beloved beagle Daisy down the hill with us. The three of us would give it a go. Running the railway ties had become a soothing rhythm for me and something I grew to really look forward to.

After Daisy was killed this past June, I never returned to the gully. I swam, peddled, and golfed all summer but I couldn’t bring myself to lace up my shoes. It was just too painful.

After spending last Saturday reading in the comfort of jujubes and ice cream I took a baby step. I laced up my shoes and headed up the cottage stairs and down our private road with Dot and the puppy. It felt great. I’d truly missed it.

After an early dinner Sunday, I waited until about 6:30pm, then asked the question for the first time in months.

“Wanna go in the gully Dot?” She was ecstatic and I was committed to follow through. On went my shoes and gear and down the hill we went. 

I hit the tracks and started to run, hitting two and three ties at a time.  As I was about to hit the large bend at Wilson’s Falls I stopped to take it all in. So much in my life in the last couple of years changed but one thing was certain, life was moving forward.

As I held up my phone I asked Dottie “is that our Daisy?" As I admired the expression on her face  I knew she was thinking about her too. No matter what you may think or believe, I know the three of us were right there in that very moment. We were together again.

Judging by how my heart still aches, I know Daisy will be running with Dot and I for a very long time. 

Appears I Am Going To Be OKEY-DOKEY!

This past weekend marked the end of my personal nine week challenge, which was to enjoy the cottage without the kids. As I climbed the 50+ stairs this morning in the dark, I was reminded just how quickly my time flew by.

Let me start by stating the obvious. I had fantastic 'challenge' weather. As a result, there was never a shortage of visitors. No matter if you arrived by car or by boat (you dined or you didn’t) the fact that we enjoyed time together is all that truly matters.

I'm a little embarrassed to admit that my nine weeks turned into a balancing act I’ve never had to endure before. There were no life jackets to find, no “he is/she is” cheating at Yahtzee fights to break up, nor any meals to be prepared on demand and by the clock. As selfish as it sounds, I loved it. My summer was perfect. To think that I worried at the start I would be lost. I am very pleased to report that I have found my way.

The fat lady officially sang late this past Saturday night. Kids having a blast while I was tucked into bed upstairs; I wasn’t worried for their safety, yet I really wished I’d have headed back into town for a good night sleep in my own bed. It was like a switch had flipped and I was released. That night changed me and everything came into focus.

For a number of reasons, 2012 will always represent a plethora of emotion.

Spring was superb; I'd leave work at lunch, head to the cottage, climb into bed for the afternoon and relax. The heat of the July took my commitment to exercise to the next level and I did my first back dive in over a decade. Oh, I read books; lots & lots of excellent books. My single guilty pleasure was that I refused to work every single weekend. This was definitely the cottage season for Rhondi.

Reflection, personal choices, and very fond heart-warming memories; may the leaves change and the water chill at the pace it chooses.  Makes no matter as I look to my next adventure...

I have some serious business to take care of which includes my downhill skis. Are you surprised that I can hear the circus music at Whistler playing really loud as I type?