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

SNOW IT STARTS!

The frozen precipitation I deem a constant irritant and source of months of personal misery landed last week. Allow me to draw to your attention to exhibit 'A' below: my frustrating flakey foe. Stupid f*cking snow! 

My pretty pups posing with my frozen foe!
TAKEN: NOVEMBER 16th, 2020

Dirty chirps aside, like I do every autumn, I force myself to push through this horrible six weeks of time change purgatory, until the days begin to get longer and the UV rays reflect off our pristine white blanket in January. 

With my seasonal affective disorder at its most debilitating in November, I always spend time looking for positive distractions. This electronic journal helped me in the fall of 2011 and in post Thanksgiving time changes since, I have leaned on it more often than not. 

This year, with all that's happening you would think I would want to write more, yet my creative canvas appears completely blank. Therefore, if writing isn't going to be where I channel my energy,  I have resigned myself to the fact that I am going to need another outlet. 

With that in mind, three weeks ago I took a giant step and dug out and dusted off my trustworthy treadmill. It stands proud upstairs, looking out the big picture windows and I enthusiastically offer it social niceties multiple times a day. 

So far, I have yet to plug the power cord into the wall and take it for a spin. Guess its because I'm a firm believer you can't rush back into a physical relationship, when you've completely ignored its purpose for over five years; which is why this weekend I shifted my focused to the upcoming holiday season. 

With the kids grown and gone, there isn't near as much to look forward to as their use to be, yet I do my best to get into the spirit of things. Though I never ask for anything, I do love to gaze at my Christmas tree lights each night for the entire month of December, bringing specific enlightenment to my earlier attempt at a new energy absorbing distraction. 

You see, I put my newly dusted off old chum in the very same spot I always put the holiday Christmas tree that houses those 500+ beautiful LED lights I love. 

Knowing Christmas lights trump everything, I am feeling very grateful I only ever offered a cheerful good morning to my buddy, never hopping on with false intentions. 

Because I know now, that we would have just gotten back into a familiar rhythm, and I would have had to fold 'er up and move 'em to the cold garage, alone, until early January 2021.  Once again proving, the creative process and this silly electronic journal offer me the crystal clear clarity and self enabling justification I crave this time of year. 

Which leaves me hollering, yet again.... Pass the chocolate cake, spark another Hallmark movie, and deck the freaking halls! 

Oh, before I forget. Is there anyone around next weekend to help me move a treadmill?

#yagottalaughaboutit 

DINING AL FRESCO

In the midst of purchasing our current home, the lawyer called the day it was to close to let us know that the old shed in the backyard was encroaching on the neighbouring lot line. His professional opinion was that we should make the sellers move it. 

Being the superstar handyman my husband naturally boasts being, he instructed the deal to close announcing that he would gladly relocate the shed. Pictured in the photo background, I don’t think he’s opened the door since he moved our crap into it and that was almost twenty years ago!

Anyway, when my father stayed with us in his end of life hospice care the winter of 2005, he was quick to establish friendships with the local fauna including these photogenic furry tailed bandits. 

During his last housebound winter, he introduced an outdoor dining experience like no other - and by the time he left us that June, his newly established extended family understood what a glorious food source this happy go lucky chap turned out to be.

One of my many generations of  friends born the spring of 2020.
TAKEN: NOVEMBER 2020

Once I'd passed that mournful summer without my dad, I noticed not very many of his furry friends remained come autumn. The ones that did escape the owls and foxes were a small family of grey squirrels and they had build a beautiful drey for themselves high up in our back gully. Fifteen seasons later I have fed and nurtured many generations, and all have offered me great memories and wonderful friendships from a distance. 

Now back to the shed that was never moved but still needs to be... Each and every spring I  open its door to see what our six months of winter hath delivered. 

Not because there is anything in there worth salvaging but because I know in spring when others awake with a hungry belly, that ugly brown shed offers one of several escape locations of trust, offering quick easy ground access for all of my dining friends.

I don't think of it as a 'members only' condo unit per se, more an exclusive diners club that offers a covered option should it be raining when I ring that afternoon dinner bell.

...Signifying their dining al fresco restaurant is officially open for service!

HELLO NEW-VEMBER

Loving life packing only a cellphone, a credit card & a smile!
TAKEN: OCTOBER 10th, 2013

For a number of reasons, this is one of my very favorite selfies I have ever managed to capture.  I snapped it in an absolute coffee induced euphoric state, the morning after landing in Old Montreal with a girlfriend.

As the story goes, I had seen The Eagles at the ACC in Toronto the Thursday night before, then hopped a plane to Montreal to see Bon Jovi at the Bell Centre that Saturday night. 

I remember embracing the brisk November morning with an extra skip in my step feeling like a brand new person. Not because I was going to venture into historic Vieux-Montréal and its amazing architecture, but because I had made the life changing decision to quit my dream job; a milestone that happened seven years ago this week. 

My point? 

I think some of you may be surprised to read that for the first time in years, I once again have a skip in my step and I am sporting an ear to ear smile for making yet another life altering choice. I am pleased to report that I have left my sales and marketing position within the construction industry here in Muskoka... and I couldn’t be happier.

Just like seven years ago, my decision wasn't made lightly. It was a transition I had entertained for almost six months. If I am being honest, the reason for the lag was because I had struggled to wrap my mind around the logistics of such a life altering shift. 

Like most things in life, timing is everything. I guess you could say, just like the day I snapped this selfie, I had to invest in myself and trust the timing in my life. Even with that trust, I worried my glass  may feel half empty. Hence those months it took me to finally decide. 

As everyone knows, this isn't rocket science. A job is a job, that in the end you get paid for simply doing a job - and people leave jobs all the time.

In this instance, my personal struggle came with the more than a hundred people I was blessed to get to know and work alongside of with a great sense of pride. It didn't matter which, I was connected to each and every one of them... How could I go?

In the end, transitioning has had zero effect with those I was closest with. Social media has helped close the landline conversation gap and not a day goes by that my phone isn’t a buzz with a meme, a text, or a call from one of many. I guess you could say our friendships are a different kind of payday for simply treating people the way we wanted to be treated. 

As I wrap up my post and head over to Spotify, I can't help but reflect on those amazing few days and two great back to back concerts seven years ago. Today has me embracing, blasting, and singing, a number of those really great tunes performed live. 

But for whatever reason... Already Gone by the Eagles and It's My Life by Bon Jovi seem to be bringing down the house!

Sorry. Couldn't resist the obvious comical musical punchline.

#yagottalaughaboutit

TRICKY TRAVEL TALK

Last week, after noticing that some of my Canadians snowbird pals were beginning to flock south until next spring, I decided to open up a social media discussion on the possibility of upcoming travel to the Caribbean in the winter of 2021. 

I knew I might be encroaching on a tricky topic with some controversial dialogue happening, yet in the wide reaching forum I created, my network answered both respectfully and with personal honestly.

Wind blown, cruising the Mississippi River aboard The Natchez New Orleans
TAKEN: MAY 29th, 2019

As I sit here and type, I can't help but revisit the very first comment on my thread. A seasoned traveler wrote – “No travel until I’m vaccinated!”

On the day of the election of the 46th President of the United States, I can’t help but wonder what’s next in both the virus protection and travel departments. 

Right or wrong, a vaccine produced without proof of proper exploratory stages, pre-clinical development and regulatory review for approval, is not something I am rushing to put into my body. 

The shoe on the other foot reminds me that my thread wasn't intended to be a vaccination debate, more about travel input and opinions as I am hoping to hatch a plan and ultimately travel while respecting imposed limitations.  

With my sunny wings potentially grounded indefinitely, I know I could always travel and remain in Canada,  which is probably my best option at this point. I have family and friends out it BC, so that may be my overall 2021 birthday trip goal.

That said, vaccine or not, if the mandatory 14-day quarantine upon return to Canada is lifted, I will be sitting on a beach in the Caribbean quicker a snowsquall can move into Muskoka knocking out a neighbourhood of Bell satellite dishes.

Trust me.... Here, with our unpredictable winter storm crap?

That's 5G, Flash Gordon, blink and pack because you're leaving on a plane, fast! 

#nufsaid

GOURD-GEOUS & GRATEFUL

2020 Great Pumpkin Carving Event
(l-r) Goob, JMRex, Sweetie, Jukebox, Tam_lya
TAKEN: OCTOBER 12, 2020

For well over a decade, the weekend before Hallowe’en I have lugged a pumpkin into the cottage and carved it the night before it was closed for the winter. For whatever reason, watching my last seasonal effort of the season flickering by the fall moon light was tradition I always looked forward to. 

That said, have you ever had a nagging feeling that something bad was lurking around the corner, and no matter what you did, you couldn’t seem to shake it? This year, I had an eerie feeling my annual pumpkin carve wasn’t going to happen; hindsight has confirmed my ‘spidey senses’ were correct.

In Canada, we traditionally celebrate Thanksgiving the second Monday of October. Feeling unsettled through the month of September, I decided to buy pumpkins for the kids to carve before we ate our family feast.

That evening at dusk, I lit them all and snapped the photo that I am sharing. The next morning, I was headed to the hospital at 3am and today the cottage was closed for the remainder of 2020. I am still dealing with the fact that my life has changed forever.

I don’t want to get into the if and or buts here, I just want to reaffirm that when a loved one doesn’t want to seek medical help you can’t force them and it isn’t your fault. In the end, all you can do is love them and hope they understand how their decisions have effected every single person in their lives.

I am one that has been, and always will be, grateful for the little things in life. Like grown children that willingly participate in a pumpkin carving contest because their mother loves how their simple glow at dusk makes her feel all warm and fuzzy inside.

Peeps... Hug the ones you love. Really tight. Because everything can change in the blink of an eye!

LEAF IT TO ME

Raking leaves... My pregame for snow shoveling!
TAKEN: OCTOBER 8th, 2020

When walking in the evening with the pups the last couple of weeks, I noticed the neighbouring yards quickly filling with colourful foliage. 

Tonight, a sight to behold, I couldn’t help but giggle thinking those vibrant leaves offer their ultimate beauty… When they are being cleaned up by someone other than me!

As you know, I chronicle in this electronic journal every October just how much I love this time of year. Everything feels crisp, the wood burning stove at the cottage makes everything really cozy, and gravy officially becomes my favourite food group. 

For whatever reason, I find there is a harmony offered in autumn that no other season brings. A mellow sense of calming that I've enjoyed and embraced which always brings me into a familiar cyclical rhythm.

The leaves fall and get cleaned up. Enough wood gets split and piled. The garage gets cleaned out of spring and summer crap... and weekly outdoor burning of yard debris kicks off with the help of a wee bit of gasoline. 

For some strange reason, specific fall activities seem to help me prepare mentally for the bright white blanket that arrives in early January; when my snowshoes relieve my angst.

All of that shared, I can’t help but be preoccupied with the fact that this will be the first fall in the last six that I won’t be jumping on a plane for a burst of November vitamin D. 

I was chatting with my bestie today. She also suffers with Seasonal Affective Disorder in the same way I do. With everything locked down, we discussed what the next six months of darkness may offer. I know there’s no magic wand that can help but I am hopeful our daily check ins and dialogue will get us through.

As World Mental Health Day approaches October 10th, I can’t help look to the inspiring quote: “When darkness comes, let us not condemn the dark, but light a light to illuminate it.”

They mean that I need to buy more happy lights, right?

Because that’s how interpret it... as I head online with my credit card!

MY STEADY SEPTEMBER

My Annie on the left and my Puddin' going full tilt on the right!
TAKEN: September 20th, 2020

Vacation the first week of August may have been a total bust but the weather the last week of summer more than made up for it. I don’t know about you - but there has always been something with the end of September atmosphere that genuinely put an extra skip in my step. 

For obvious reasons, as fall approaches each year I always make the effort to give my pups as many unique experiences as possible. I suppose it’s because I know, for the most part, nature is preparing us to hunker down in darkness as we wait for the pre-winter snow to arrive.

As you can see from our last adventure photos, Annie is as active as toddler on steroids but the signs of Puddin’ officially becoming a senior are starting to visibly show. Therefore, I have decided that this fall has to be about a balance. Not just energy level balance. Overall life balance; not only for the pups but for me as well.

Such a big and important thought process (and learning curve) for me right now. 

In my effort to strive and achieve it, I will no longer be working 50 hours a week and on call from sun up until sun down. I have disabled all alerts on my phone and I honestly try my best to power that sucker down before I serve dinner and leave it off until I wake the following morn.

That change combined with an inner twang for more personal balance, resulted in me reconnecting with my very best gal pal. It’s not like she and I were estranged per se, just both got busy with life in general and became accustom to the Bluetooth on the road home doing all the legwork for us. 

I am pleased to report that this very steady September has us getting back to basics where the first question we ask the other is “...How are you doing?” I had truly missed that. 

You see, for the last several years I had been so focused on others and their demands, that the little things that mattered somehow got lost in the shuffle. I guess you could say that prior to making this small, almost minor change in behaviour, I was always in search of the answer as to how to create change.

Then, on the evening of September 10th, I realized that I no longer wanted to wait for the opportunity of change. I understood whole heartedly I had to pull up my big girl panties and encompass and embrace the change I was searching for.…So I did. 

The rest is up to me.

MOOSEKOKA MUSING

Just hanging out at the cottage with my big bad bull Moose. 
TAKEN: SEPTEMBER 2018

I was driving home from work last week and I quickly called one of my closest confidants. I thought I had forgotten to thank them from paying for lunch. 

Once connected via Bluetooth, I was reminded that I had in fact already thanked them for lunch, and they in return thanked me again for listening. What followed was quick and very candid conversation about the makings of a meltdown. 

I can speak from experience when I admit that when I finally submit and actually melt down, the emotional fallout can be nuclear. The bigger tell is that final straw is never usually the root cause,  it's just the particular moment housing my last semblance of personal strength when a cherished trust is broken.

Because most know and read me as a full blown extrovert, you may be surprised to learn that I am actually a very private person. I tend to listen far more than I share, and when I do share, it’s generally about generic life experience rather than anything of a very personal nature.

As a people pleasing lass I can count on one hand the number of lifelong friends I have and I firmly believe I've had more than one soulmate thus far in my lifetime. 

You know, that certain someone you have an immediate connection with the moment you meet and that connection is so strong that you feel you've known them your entire life. You immediately know they're special and meant to be in your life - which describes my aforementioned lunch date perfectly!

Soulmate status update aside, I guess my musing point is that in all my years I have learned that many things come and go. Things like people, possessions, pets as well as my patience for personal and professional politics and shell games. 

Though I have never been one for looking back with regret, I have always tried to forgive myself for not having the foresight to see something bad coming my way. I guess you could say that is one of the systemic problems with my rose coloured glasses I wear with such pride.

Those suckers can make a brown bull moose charging me head on, appear in my favourite shade of red.

Even worse? 

They always seem to have a smile on their face!

#TrueStory #seephotoabove

A SNACK BRACKET

My very favourite client was in the office last week and he said to me… “Rhondi, just like you, I’ve had Covid-19.”

We burst out laughing after he continued with, “At the end of all of this, I’m not sure if it will end up being nineteen pounds, or nineteen kilograms!” 

I don’t know about you, but as an emotional eater, I can generally peg the time of year when circus music begins to chime in my ear signaling me to buy stock in the most profitable potato chip company. And I can assure you, every fall, any and all are generously sampled; as part of my annual stock purchase evaluation.

What can I say. I was a fat toddler. I was power fed homogenized milk, and in those days the perception was the fatter the better. The good news is I shed that baby fat, the bad news is those formed fat cells follow you forever.

I have always been athletic and outgoing but when perimenopause clicked in everything changed. My body absorbed food differently and in one year my metabolism changed exponentially. It was in that moment I knew I was being put to pasture.

Kicking and screaming and the better part of a year later, I lost the excess weight and changed my lifestyle. That was in 2012.

Even with a major change in lifestyle, winters and my seasonal affective disorder in this harsh tundra have me pulling my gravy crutch out of the hall closet bringing the five or ten pound of weight gain that accompany it. The good news is those extra pounds were always shed before I ever had to appear in any sort of summer shorts or swimming outfit. 

This year? We locked down. I filled up. The rest is history!

I want to shed the pounds I’ve gained yet I am a creature of habit. 

If gravy has a crutch, my philosophy that if I share with the pups I am really only taking in 1/3 of the calories must be a motorized wheelchair. One chip for each of you, one chip for me. One jelly bean for each of you, one jelly bean for me; and trust me, I am always fair in the distribution department.

I guess you could say that the only way the dogs keep the upper paw on me is because they don't have to share their dog cookies with me. Though I must say, on occasion the label on the front of the box has made it cross my mind.

Not gonna lie.... Those gravy covered Milk Bone dog biscuits definitely land within my mid-winter snack bracket!!

#yagottalaughaboutit

It would appear that Annie and I have similar snackage struggles
TAKEN: AUGUST 7th, 2020

MY MARRIAGE COIN

 I read somewhere that marriage is an institution designed to let you annoy one special person for the rest of your life. Yet, I’m sure when you flip my blog and bitch about marriage coin really high into the air it would read: The perfect marriage is between a blind wife and a deaf husband.

I know you’ll probably find this hard to believe, but since opening my own business in 2004, as an entrepreneur I quickly learned to hone two very specific social skills. 

1. ALWAYS take a 24-48 hour cooling down period before speaking to whom you’re truly aggravated with, because words can never be taken back.

2. AND...Smile and be thankful for every piece of shit pie eaten that generated revenue. 

As you can see from my last couple of electronic offerings, this Covid crap has me crazy cranky.

The cherry on top of that statement is our first official summer vacation together since 2012 was received worse than Bob Dylan going electric and sadder than Levon Helm leaving The Band because of it.

We may have only been at our cottage, but it rained six out of ten days and by this past Saturday morning (when our water pump failed yet again) we both hit the ‘this fecking sucks’ wall. It was clear in our Sunday morning volume alone, we both really needed to take a break. 

I moved home with the dogs. He did not.

Now, I should share, we rarely fight nor even disagree.

The two of us at my company Christmas Party
TAKEN: DECEMBER 2000

In our many decades together we have learned to skillfully navigate each other for continued success. In this instance, our small cottage space, two wet dogs, and a thrice mis-installed water pump got the best of us.

How bad was it? If a successful marriage requires you to fall in love many times with the same person… I’m thinking by Labour Day weekend we might be ready for a lunch date.

That said, I can assure you that it was so bad, my best girlfriend will be making one of those famous ‘escape a really bad date’ phone calls; fifteen minutes in.

#yagottalaughaboutit

ONE GIANT STEP

 Have you ever had one of those days where no matter what you try and accomplish, you take one step forward and two steps back? 

Well, the fat lady is tuning up to start singing to signal the end of my vacation, and gosh darn dammit if the last seven days haven’t played out exactly like that!

Since we connected water in early May, I have loved living in my little Covid Casita. But if I'm being honest here, the five days of rain last week drove me a tad bit stir crazy. 

Usually when I am antsy and frustrated, we hop in the car and go vrooom zoom for a change of scenery. Imagine wet dog everything and misplaced car keys. 

I know, right? Two. Steps. Back!

Y'all know I love my pups and that they love me. This is proven daily by the fact that they both have to be within two feet of me at any given moment. 

So, this past week, to avoid major rainfall/lake water stinkage, I towel dried them as much as possible, leaving me with a clean towel crisis that offered impressive expletives that I usually save for that crazy orange man south of here. 

I kid you not, when an electronic friend checked in via text with, “hope your week off is okay and quiet.” I instantly responded with, ‘I did laundry in the rain this morning... Livin’ the dream!” 

Truth of the matter is, when I saw the long-range forecast, I wanted to cancel and take a different week. My husband did not. I get it. He has the privilege of a maid and cook; so I can totally empathize with why we wouldn’t entertain a reschedule.

That said, I read an online article this week about the pursuit of personal happiness. It was from a husband’s perspective. It explained how it isn’t his job to make his wife happy. It is her responsibility to ensure she is happy with her choices and herself, which I agree with 100%.

So, when cleaning out the closets this past week, I came across a two-person pup tent I'd purchased for the kids many years ago. I set it up on the lower deck and looked forward to falling asleep over the water and waking up to the morning fog. 

I think I could market this space on Air BnB!
TAKEN: August 6th, 2020

People on my Facebook immediately joked that my husband had finally sent me to the doghouse but the truth of the matter is I hit the jackpot and got the hell out of the extra large doghouse for a good night sleep. 

Then, when heading up to make morning coffee, I broke the zipper on the door, took it down and hauled it into the trash.

Killing the tent after one might have been my two steps back. BUT baby, my night outside alone in the fresh air?

One giant step forward!