MY AMAZING GOAT

My beautiful Annie Banannie once again embracing lake life with me.
TAKEN: AUGUST 1, 2022

I was listening to the radio on my way into work last week and the on-air host referenced a band I’d never heard of as the ‘goat’. I wasn’t much of a fan, so it didn’t really resonate until that same morning show host, days later, spoke of the band again explaining the ‘g.o.a.t.’ acronym in long form as: greatest of all time.  

I giggled to myself after she said it, because it was once again proof of what I tell the littluns I work with all the time, which is that I learn something new every single day. 

The real surprise was because I tend to call my beloved Annie by her nickname, which is my Nanny Goat. Primarily because she jumps around like one whenever we are reunited after being apart for more than fifteen minutes; which is truly a special sight to see. 

Just like our children (Goob, Sweetie & Jukebox), I have always nicknamed for our dogs. 

I remember my estranged sister-in-law asking me if I still had those “silly nicknames” for my children. 

To which I immediately propped myself up proudly admitted yes, because in that moment I knew it was just her passive aggressive way to switch the narrative and attention in her direction. To this day, she's a real see you next Tuesday, if you know what I mean.

Anyway, all these years later, I don’t want to open that can of worms, as she’s in the past and not the direction I am going - BUT I will weigh in on the whole nickname front. 

Just like my grown children, my dogs appreciate my tone when I use their nicknames as a genuine term of endearment.  So much so that when our Puddin' left us on this past June 7th, I had to stop mentioning her name as it made my Annie suffer even more.

The photo I am sharing today is the very first time Annie would get back in the boat that floats with me, as she would always wait on the dock just incase her BFF would in some way miraculously come back to her. Eight weekends later, she decided to finally hop in.

Though is would be tough for me to confirm that Annie is in fact the greatest of all time, our bond is very strong, just as mine was mine was with Puddin' and all that came before her. They know you love them, unconditionally - and not just because they are mine.

You see, if you were to ask me if I believe in love at first sight, my answer would be absolutely! 

As crazy as this reads, I fall in love with every dog, the very first time our eyes meet. 

...Then immediately give them a treat and a nickname.

#BAZINGA

LEAPIN’ LIFE BALANCE!

In fairness to Miya, this was a bad throw by me...
I didn't want my lunch break served with a side order of soggy!
TAKEN: AUGUST 24th, 2022

In 2007 at fifteen years of age, when my beautiful yellow lab Toby crossed over the rainbow bridge, I promised myself I would take time to truly grieve his passing and not get a new pup during my extended time of mourning. 

Not only did I have no desire to try and replace him, I honestly believe once you have a unique bond and connection like we did; that bond remains singular forever. 

As a family, we were more than two years before we entertained another dog.

Now fast forward to the realization that our beloved Puddin’ had a rare form of cancer. Her long-term prognosis was grim, yet this time it wasn’t only me being left behind; it was our beautiful Annie. 

They had been inseparable since we'd rescued her at five weeks of age. When she arrived she fit in the palm of my hand, was sickly and unable to eat, and Puddin' never left her side.

Worried Annie may die of a broken heart when Pud parted, we decided to smooth that transition by working with a CKC registered breeder to purchase another Labrador Retriever. 

Miya Maria (seen above) was born on April 9^th, 2021, and we picked her up on my father’s birthday in June. We were blessed to have Puddin’ live a year (less two days) from the one year anniversary of Miya joining our pack. 

My point?

When I left my construction management job last fall, I was truly blessed to have several opportunities present themselves - and for the first time in my life (just like I did with Toby) I knew I would be taking my time.

In the end, of the six formal offers I entertained, I had it down to two. One paid more money, the other offered me the option to work from my home office from Christmas Break to Easter without travel.

When I walked away from the money and accepted the other offer in another sector, 48-hours before I was scheduled to start, my current employer asked me back to the table with his counteroffer.

The most important item he presented was because I would report to him and he splits his time leading our teams, I would commute to the Muskoka office the set three days he's in. When he's working from our other company office, I would work from home for those two days. 

It sealed the deal - and I have been grateful to get to balance my home office hours between the house and my desk at Orillia Lake.

I will report that the my current team's much younger than I expected, but I am excited to share that they look to my decades of experience and appreciate it. I love that I have entered the mentoring stage of my career after having so many really great mentors.

Also, I love the fact that those I am mentoring don't care to chase flying pigs into the lake, never beg for my lunch using drool, chase the squirrels I feed until they are ready to drop, nor smell like rotten ass on a rainy day from swimming so much.

...Truly making my work life/real life/doggie daycare life balance perfect!!

MY HAPPY HAT

This past weekend produced some major heat warnings in Muskoka and the humidex rolled past a balmy 40C. With the UV rays off the chart, I kept my skin slathered in a 30 SPF waterproof sunscreen as I got in and out of the water all day Saturday.

How hot was it? It was so hot that I got to wear 'my happy hat'. Not to be confused with any one of my favourite hats, the specific hat shown here, has always brought me happiness.

Clocking in at more than 30 years of age (which must be at least a hundred and fifty-five in straw hat years) she was my dad’s favourite swimming hat he wore at his camp on Lake Temiscamang. 

She was relocated to a hat hook at our cottage on Orillia Lake after he passed more than fifteen years ago.

As I age, I can confirm 1000% that it is the small things that matter most.
TAKEN: AUGUST 6th, 2022

As I type, I recall all the photos taken of her over those years. Shots of dad in the water when the kids were little, then pics as tweens as they grew up here. Their friends partying, overnight cottage guests, my husband working along the shoreline; and for the very first time Saturday, me. 

As you can see, she has seen better hat days. Like all of us, she is beginning to succumb to the elements caused by the aging process. Her shape has changed, and what was once firm is no longer. In hindsight, I feel she was a tad taken for granted over the years, and now, as her straw weakens as each summer passes, like everything, we tend to cherish her even more.

I don’t know about you, but even with the VID on the way out, this year has been a bit of a shit show for me. I still haven’t processed that my best friend Smarite has died, and I truly wasn’t ready for our Puddin’ to head over the rainbow bridge as soon as she did. 

Though some aspects of my life are the best they have ever been, I feel there are specifics that may never heal - one particularly that my husband has declared ‘a last straw’ (no pun intended, and without any reference to this amazing hat... lol).

If the truth be told, I think that is why I keep my dad’s memory alive through reminders like my hundreds of Petro Canada glasses, his shoes that remain at my front door, and this silly straw hat. 

He was always my closest confidant, and having him near has always kept me going during trying times.

As my eyes fill with tears, I find it amazing how these items can bring forth a flood of emotions. Happiness, sadness, laughter and comfort.... Oh, and let's not forget security. 

Yup, all day Saturday, his favourite hat kept me safe yet again. From my having a sun stroke!

Thanks Poppa xoxo

Z IS FOR ZOMBIE

 

Our last practice with Ashley ending our summer session.
TAKEN: AUGUST 30th, 2018

A few years back I started doing yoga with the SweenyMeister and a gaggle of gals I worked in the Muskoka construction industry with.

In the beginning, I was leery of the process but by the third or fourth class, I started to compartmentalize my energy for the activity. As I began to understand the purpose of the process, I could literally feel the stresses of my day leaving my body. 

As a result, I truly began to look forward to my Tuesday and Thursday after work ritual. That hour of time I booked for myself at the end of the day, twice a week, quickly  became a haven. 

During those twenty months, I slept better and handled general stress better. As I reflect, I wasn’t looking and feeling like the freaking zombie I am today.

Following that statement, I read somewhere that ‘a zombie in possession of brains must be in want of more brains.’ 

I guess I must be one of those hybrid type of zombies – because after my rollercoaster month of April, my brain won't shut off and I am always in the want of more sleep!

On that note. As I yawn, I will raise my keyboard to the end of another April A-Z year.

...Namaste. 

PS: I wonder how a Hindu zombie would groan that greeting of respect as their lips and limbs fell off?

#yagottalaughaboutit #thanksforreading

Y IS FOR YAWN

Do you want to yawn too?
TAKEN AUGUST 21st, 2021

I remember my mom telling me a stories when I was a kid about yawning being contagious.

Before she married my dad, she worked in downtown Toronto and rode public transit. Thanks to the daily grind of boredom, she would purposely seek out someone to look in the eye and immediately pretend to yawn. 

She would then observe how long it took for everyone else around her to begin yawning; which is DNA evidence of where my warped sense of amusement comes from.

As you can imagine, I'm feeling just as my Miya Maria is looking as we rode home from the cottage last summer. I'm not yawning due to the boredom of the daily grind or sheer exhaustion from chasing my tail, actually it is anything but. 

April has been a whirlwind of emotions for me. Highs and lows. Days filled with happiness followed by days of deep sadness and in some cases total devastation because of my unexpected loss Easter Sunday.

Never one to quit, I am one letter away of finishing the April A-Z challenge and I am glad a persevered. 

I did well to post daily in the beginning... but at this stage, I am just happy I am going to finish. 

...Smartie would have wanted me to.

X IS FOR XEROX

 

 Always be genuine and unique...
Because everyone knows XEROX is unable to be original!
TAKEN: APRIL 7th, 2022

W IS FOR WORDLE

 

Each day I Wordle as I sip my morning coffee.
... and Quordle while I eat my lunch.

When I started my new job everyone in the office was talking about this thing called “Wordle”.

I’d never heard of it, but I had seen a flood of yellow, green, and black square emojis flash across my Facebook timeline. Always cautious of click bate, I never gave it a second through. That was until my entire new crew seemed obsessed with it.

For the first week, I listened to try and understand what the point was. Limited to just one game a day, you have six chances to guess a five-letter word. Each time you hit enter to register your guess, each letter turns a different colour.

Black means the letter isn’t in the word at all. Yellow means the letter is in the word but in the wrong spot. Green means you have the right letter in the right spot.

I haven’t been playing long, but I seem to Wordle in just three guesses quite regularly. 

Don’t get me wrong, I have also burned through my six guesses just as easily.

All in all… Just a really great way to start the day.

V IS FOR VICTORY

On our recent trip to Key West, we took in a popular tourist trap simply called “Robbie's” in Islamorda.

I had watched the destination being featured on several must-see attractions on YouTube, so we planned to stop in on our way back to Miami. The experience did NOT disappoint.

This school of more than a hundred tarpon linger for hours at the hope of being hand fed. They actually rise out of the water to grab the fish as it leaves your hand. My husband braved the activity, I watch and took pictures; but had a blast just the same.

Now you’d think the tarpon would be the main attraction, but it was the ornery pelicans. Both bold and somewhat aggressive in nature, they not only steal the fish, but they also definitely steal the show. 

The VICTORY was theirs!

Here are a few pics of our fun adventure.

The lunch lineup
TAKEN: APRIL 9th, 2022

My husband feeding the tarpon (close up)
TAKEN: APRIL 9th, 2022

I tried to warn him there was incoming!
TAKEN: APRIL 9th, 2022

They have no fear!!
TAKEN: APRIL 9th, 2022

A fun $2.50 to get in and $4.75 for the bucket of fish. Good times....
TAKEN: APRIL 9th, 2022

U IS FOR UNDERSTANDING

In memory of my best friend that passed away Easter Sunday 2022
TAKEN: AUGUST 28th, 2021

 

T IS FOR TOXIC

#meanpeoplesuck

I am sure you’ll agree that there is always one. 

One person you've never really suspected but kind of thought maybe, wanted to put a pillow over your face at your lowest point, hoping they could do you in. 

I should disclose that there had been instances previously, but they had always ended in my having a 'water off a duck's back' attitude. (Oh, it's just so and so... being so and so.)

As you know, this last week I’ve been a mess. I struggled with my letter S because of the sheer emotion of creating the collage and writing the few words I could muster.

Then, out of the blue, I got a series of personal messages from 'so and so,' asking questions about what was happening around me and what had unfurled the night previous.  In the end, I believe this person thought she had information that would shock and devastate me more than I already was.

After she delivered her dramatic zinger, she gave me a thumbs up followed by hug emoji. My reply was swift like a razor blade. 

“Don’t hug me,” I said. “You knew exactly what you were doing!”

Deleted, blocked, gone in a social media instant. Screw enabling her any longer. 

That, my friends, is the only way to deal with TOXIC troublemakers...Especially when you're unable to punch them in the face in person!!

Ahhhh, typing that last sentence out felt great. It processed closure for me.

Thanks for listening.

S IS FOR SMARTIE

One of my best friends passed away on Easter Sunday. Though we were separated by thousands of miles, we spoke on the phone at least once a week. He was mere fifty six years of age.

My avid readers will recognize his name as well as his photo, as he has appeared in several journal posts over the years (even has his own label). All very raw and still in shock, I am struggling to deal with the loss. 

As a result, I have decided to share what his oldest and dearest childhood friend "Howie" posted for him on the exact day my letter S was due. 

I think it paints a perfect picture of this wonderful man. The words brought me to both tears of laughter as well as deep sadness. Words can not describe how much I will miss him.

Rest in peace Smartie. Keep my seat next to you warm and your wit razor sharp....Until we meet again.

Love you always xoxo ~ Rhondi

I miss my buddy

He’s gone.  That’s what his ex-wife said to me when I answered the phone the evening of Easter Sunday.

All who knew Brian entered a new world in that moment.

So far, that world is one of shock, disbelief, boundless sadness and equally boundless gratitude; feelings all common in the wake of the loss of loved one. The shock, disbelief and sadness will settle.  The gratitude for all he brought to my world, will remain forever.

His laughter was matched only by his ability to make others laugh.

At the end of grade 7, we went on a class camping trip to Bass Lake Provincial Park.  As far as we could tell, our teacher, modeled his classroom management style after Joseph Stalin. From the perspective of a bunch of dumb, gangly 12-year-old boys, he was mean.

The camping area was a large, rectangular field. Perfect to ensure boys tents lined the perimeter of one side, girls on the other.

In line with our teacher’s overall approach, there was a seemingly endless list of rules. Among them, very precise direction as to when all were required to be in tents and very ominous threats of consequences if not.

As 12-year-olds we had yet to develop much in the way of foresight and probably worse, we had yet to develop any awareness of our limits in that regard.  Despite the dire warnings we came up with, what we believed at the time, was an airtight plan. Immediately after sunset and tent check, we’d leave our tents, bolt across the field under the cover of darkness and visit our classmates with the utmost confidence that none of this would stir even a hint of suspicion. 

Once darkness set in, tent checks complete, the zippers of 16 tents rang out and the charge was on. 

Almost instantly the flaw in our planning was exposed.  Who would think that teachers would patrol the tents after dark? Clearly 12-year-old boys didn’t.

Thankfully almost every one of us detected the flaw immediately, dove back in our tents, with adrenaline surging but safe from suffering the wrath of our teacher supervisors.

Everyone, that is, but Brian.

Peeking through our tent doors, there he was. His silhouette like a gazelle, bounding on an open plane, all on his own, in the dark, cool, damp, spring air completely oblivious to his solitude.

It turns out that teachers must develop an extraordinary capacity to identify 12-year-old running boys in the dark of night.

But as Brian’s luck would have it, that wasn’t his biggest problem.

In a highly predictable twist of fate, the world’s most fearsome teacher spotted him immediately. We cringed as we heard him yell: “Smart, where are you going?”

At that moment, the magnitude of Brian’s initial mistake compounded significantly.  For instead of responding with something like, “I’m just running to the bathroom”, he chose instead to announce, with a completely misplaced sense of sarcasm, at the top of his lungs, “I’m going to an orgy”.

And to make matters much worse, as he was sometimes known to do, he added, “where the fuck do you think I’m going, you asshole?”  

It was too much for 12-year-old boys. We spent years laughing about it.

And that’s what he did more than anyone I know. He laughed a lot and he helped other people laugh a lot.

Equal to his ability to make people laugh was his ability to build big friendships.  He had more best friends than anyone I know; he did it effortlessly, sincerely and happily.  He was as comfortable with his 3-year-old grandson as he was with the 93 year olds he was working with as part of his studies to become a healthcare aid. 

I will always be proud to call him my best friend as I know many others are too.

The span of his musical taste was broad. Together, we saw John Lee Hooker, The Clash, Peter Tosh, Black Uhuru, Talking Heads, The Police (actually more than the musical kind), the English Beat, Flock of Seagulls, Eric Clapton, the Hip, Nash the Slash, lost some/most of our hearing watching the Headstones at the Rivoli and watched some dude throw a banana 125 meters and land right at the feet of Joan Jett - an act of athletic prowess I have yet to witness again.

But his greatest achievement is undoubtedly his family. His son, daughters and his wonderful grandson; they featured prominently and lovingly in virtually every single conversation. Each of his kids inherited his greatest attributes. 

Among the many things uniting the human experience is our frailty. None of us live perfect lives. We all deal with challenges. 

All of us, in our own way, do the very best we can to accommodate those challenges. 

We love our families and friends and care for our communities, our country and the planet.  We count on those we love in our time of need.

This was especially true of Brian.

I am grateful for every second he lived his life.  

I will miss him for as long as I live mine.

R IS FOR REALITY

 

#truestory #lifeisshort

P IS FOR PERSISTENCE

My teacup not only defines the word for today, it defines how I have lived my life so far.
TAKEN: OCTOBER 30th, 2016

O IS FOR ONE

The last thing I did before I left Key West was tour the Hemmingway House.
TAKEN: APRIL 9th, 2022

'I decided that I would write one story about each thing I knew about.'

~Ernest Hemmingway

I know that I have joked here this challenge about 'pub crawls' and 'pool parties' but aside from experiencing the amazing road trip vistas traveling to and from Miami, touring the Hemmingway House was atop of my list of things I wanted to do. 

My husband, wasn't so keen. Touring a home full of cats that just happened to showcase a writing studio that produced seventy percent of Hemmingway's works in the nine years he lived in the house? Meh....

Now I get that not every married couple want to experience the same things, but when my man questioned the whopping $17 price of entry, I told him he could wait outside for me. That way, I got in for half price!

Seriously, from the audio of him delivering his acceptance speech for the Nobel Prize for Literature in 1954 playing in his writing studio, to the amazing architectural bones to the house built in 1851, I feel it was well worth the price of admission.

Sure there was a lot of Hollywood memorabilia but there was also so many original photos and furniture for the time he lived in the home; not to mention an amazing library.

Not everyone's cup of tea. I get it.... But it was a great experience. 

Which is my ONE story I know to write about today.

N IS FOR NATURALLY

When you have the luxury of something and you decide to let it go, naturally you miss it. Some things more than others, yet I feel great childhood memories always linger and ultimately stay ingrained in us forever. 

Being the youngest of four, ideally I got to spend the most time at my Uncle Louis Camp on the beautiful shores of Lake Temiscaming. 

Built in the mid-fifties, the shelter was a mere 650 sq.ft. but the shoreline and property were perfect. It was never used very much, that was until I entered my 'tween' years and my parents began using it in the summer; rather than renting two weeks in the Ottawa Valley. 

I remember the day Auntie Andy took this photo. A great weekend and us so very happy.
Not quite pregnant with the twins... NOR had I discovered need for quality hair care products!
TAKEN: MAY 1991

They agreed (my dad and his eldest brother) that instead of paying rent, my dad would spend his time and money doing upgrades. A win-win for both - and when he passed, my uncle left the property and its contents to my dad.

My last couple of summers in high school, we lived there every weekend. 

The rents would pick me up at the rink in North Bay and we would head east across the border into Quebec.  (My mother’s brother had a camp next door and my father’s sister was just a wee bit further up the lake.)

I believe it was those amazing summers that helped shape me into who I am today. 

We always worked through the day as there was no television, and some Saturday nights there were at least ten of us playing a board game around Auntie's table next door. My mother was as fiercely competitive then, as I am today.  

Over those years, my cousins next door evolved into my sisters, and to this day I cherish all of their children, as I have watched them marry and raise their own families.

As an aside, we did offer to buy my dad out in the late 1990's (he was welcome to stay until he died) and he turned us down. Less than two months later, we bought in Muskoka. 

Just fifteen minutes from our home, we were blessed to offer our children the same shelter I had been given surrounded by loyal friends.  To this day, we still own it but that doesn't stop me from reminiscing. 

... About the first summer we had propane lights, the summer we hand drilled the well with a sledgehammer, or the first time I didn't have to jump in the lake because Poppa put an indoor shower in. Oh, and the fact that we conceived our children there.

All, such amazing and truly vibrant, life long memories!