MY BELATED BIRTHDAY BOY

My man & me enjoying my 29th Birthday trip.
TAKEN: APRIL 2015

As you know, I celebrated my 29th Birthday with a neat jaunt to Samana last April. I never bothered posting an album of the photos I took, because for varying reasons, it wasn’t a very memorable trip for me. Truth of the matter is that I only have myself to blame.

I did the leg work and I picked the destination. At the end of the day, I’m still disappointed that my overall experience was in line with a hot bag of poo landing on my front door step. That said, I know now that my opinion is thanks to outside stresses & my mindset at the time; NOT the destination.

With that personal diabolical misstep behind me, I am pleased to report that my husband was set to celebrate his 29th birthday last July, which presented me with a solid chance at travel redemption. We talked of doing something special but we had also agreed (before my birthday trip) to pull away all of my services from my largest client and start anew. The sad part of the story's that we mutually decided to drop that axe on that client less than 3 weeks before his milestone birthday.

Here’s where my story gets neat. Though I released my client services on a Monday afternoon, by that Thursday morning an amazing opportunity had presented itself. Once dialogue and team interviews were held, I was made a formal offer for my new position on a truly unforgettable day: my husband’s 29th birthday!!

As we cuddled in bed last Sunday morning, I grabbed my tablet and we started to run through places he’d had me previously earmark. Our deal was I’d supply the budget but he was to decide exactly where he wanted to celebrate his belated birthday.

About a half hour into our search, he asked me to go off grid and look at a spot he’s wanted to go the last couple of years. When I did, he discovered that his destination was coming in above our budget. He was disappointed. After confirming this was where he really wanted to go, I announced that I had saved more money than we’d originally discussed, so we went down to my home office and booked his trip together.

What's the first thing he did once we received our travel confirmation? He grabbed his smartphone and checked the weather there. Ya gotta laugh about it because I know he'll continue to do so (multiple times daily) until he has to turn the stinkin' thing off as the plane backs onto the tarmac next month!

Happy Belated 29th Birthday Baby... Cabo San Lucas, here we come!!

MY MORNING MUSIC MIX

For the second time in as many weeks, I had to put my gloves on this morning to head out of my subdivision to meet the Sweeney Meister to catch my ride. She’s willingly offered to come to the door to pick me up and drop me off but for me that's simply not an option. I absolutely love my morning & after work walks. As an FYI, the weather will be never an issue. 

A fitting music choice for this last day this morning.
(Earth Wind & Fire ~ SEPTEMBER)
CLICK HERE to watch, listen & enjoy!
PHOTO TAKEN: SEPTEMBER 30th, 2015

When I hit the pavement at 6:45am, you'll be pleased to know I'm packing better than Clint Eastwood in any Dirty Harry movie ever produced. Yup, my handy dandy shoulder bag is packed to answer to each and every weather mishap that my occur from my hair, to my make-up, and/or outfit in transit.

More important than that, each and every time I head up the drive (and shuffle my 600+ songs on my phone) my first music pick automatically compliments my morning energy level and mood. As quirky as it reads, that part of my routine literally defines how I prepare myself for my day. The more rested I am the more upbeat the song. Then again, if I’ve stayed up passed my bedtime the night before, I refuse to choose a song that has me lollygagging. I always pick something that will give that push to get me where the hell I'm going. 

As you long term readers know, I’ve never worked outside my sleepy little town, therefore I’ve never commuted. That, my friends, is no longer the case. Though I'm still lucky enough to get to have an amazing morning walk, I hop a ride in the coolest car ever. We laugh, we sing, we talk, and we totally relate to one and other; but that’s just the Sweeney Meister's dog Coop and I on the way to her dog sitter.... Otherwise, the car is completely quiet. NOT!

Joking aside HSW, not only do you make our morning travels bat shit crazy fun, they're both reminiscent and will always be memorable. As I progress through my career transition, I only have one word for you.

Thanks. xo

IT’s NOT EASY BEING GREEN

It's not easy being green. Especially when you're a red like me.
TAKEN: SEPTEMBER 27th, 2015

Well, as I promised my dogs, we landed at the cottage just in time to start dinner last night. Then, after the kitchen cleanup was complete, the four of us burned brush until well past 10pm. 

You know what they say about your eyes being bigger than your appetite? Well the same goes for me when I take on a task that requires more than my delusions that I can get things done all by myself.

As a result, I stayed in bed this morning and watched a movie. Partially because of the single digit morning temperature but mainly because I know I have to do more of what I was doing last night and my lower back and arms have little motivation to do so. If I could simply win the lottery and be able to afford flat land in Muskoka....

Anyway, as I sip my coffee and pop an Advil, I can’t help but look at the beautiful day ahead of me. The leaves haven’t really started to change and I have to wonder if this may be a year of light yellows and browns rather than the oranges and vibrant reds I really love. The truth is everything here is still very green.

If you think Kermit has it bad being green, think about the poor trees. The expectation for them to change is never ending. We clearly embrace their presence but always have an agenda that pertains to their future. They do their best to please us but never seem to hit that specific mark when it comes to our personal satisfaction. I know a couple of people that I allow to treat me like that.

My point, in a very roundabout way is that the trees don’t have a choice which colour they become or at the speed in which they change and grow, Mother Nature is driving that bus. I on the other hand, know what makes me happy and at this juncture it’s starting to look like it won't include those that play silly games.

Unless of course it’s Canasta, Yahtzee, Scrabble or a solid match of Trivial Pursuit. I love to play those silly games all day long.

Silly little head games disguised as caring for me? Not so much!

I LOVE 'EM ALL ANYWAY

When I got home from work tonight, I instantly heard a faint sobbing coming from the front hall closet. As I opened the doors and leaned in, I realized it was my set of Rocketballz making the unsuspecting racket. As I wrapped my arms around to soothe them, you can't imagine my personal relief realizing my crying towels kept things under control until I got home.

One of my very faves... The 8th Tee at South Muskoka
TAKEN: JUNE 2013

Not gonna lie. It's after a great week like the one, that I realize how much I missed their Friday night company. In the old days, ending my work week with them made life just right.

I guess looking at the calendar and noticing the leaves changing I can't help but wonder where the heck the bulk of the golf season has gone. Not only that, talking my clubs off the ledge today made me realized, not only did I miss a great season but I missed that exciting euphoria every single golf course offers me. Even more so, I regret saying no to my Goob all summer. I've missed that mom & son quality time (that has effortless competitive sarcasm folded in) we always share on the course.

You know what else I miss? My pitching wedge, my heaven wood, and my putter. I truly do remember them fondly as we use to be the best of friends. As an aside, can you please not tell the others that my pitching wedge is my very favourite? Before you know it, the political infighting amongst them will have my short game disappear for good and my driver and other woods on strike for insubordination.

Ah hell, who am I kidding. This time last year, none of the above mentioned peeps in my golf bag ever listened, nor did what they were told. Yet, as I lovingly addressed them tonight I realized the obvious; I love 'em all anyway.

Afterall, they're family!

MY DOGS BREAKFAST!

When I call myself the “crazy dog lady” it paints somewhat of an inaccurate picture. Crazy implies that my behaviour may be erratic and not conscious. When the truth of the matter is that I know exactly what I am doing when it comes to my three dogs. One of my interesting tidbits is that I’ve trained them what meals we eat.

This mornings dogs breakfast... Toast, peameal bacon, egg & one hash brown!
TAKEN: SEPTEMBER 20th, 2015

Over time they have come to understand how their breakfast meal and overall menu differs from their supper one. Since Dot arrived almost 10 years ago, I’ve never prepared a meal for myself that I didn’t intend to share; and as a result they tend not to mooch. They wait patiently knowing they will always be rewarded. That said, snackage is treated in an entirely different manner.

As we all curled up in front of the big picture windows yesterday afternoon and enjoyed the cottage rain, I realized the four of us darn near polished off an entire bag of Cheetos. As I put the bit of remaining crumbs back into the cupboard I realized the damage to my fat ass wasn’t as bad as my guilt originally assessed. You see, when I only ever get every fourth bite of any snack I eat, it tends to seriously minimize my overall calorie count. 

Though the saying has them as man’s best friend, I’ve very carefully swayed their opinion of me via their stomachs. The one thing I find odd is that best friends usually cook for each other and they’ve never once offered to cook for me. A good thing I suspect, there’s enough dog hair hanging around that I’d hate the thought of having to pick it out of my food.

Then again, if I thought they could manage the BBQ without burning their fur, I’d give ‘em a shot. As you can expect, I’m generally pretty resistant of the idea. Not because I think the thought of it’s silly... But because nothing takes away my appetite more than the smell of burnt dog hair!

OK, so a little crazy just crept in right there. 

At least I’m willing to admit it!!

THE EPIC TEST OF EVERYONE

“...Never push a loyal person to the point where they no longer care.” ~ Brock Napier

When I logged onto my LinkedIn at lunch today, I came across a post that read:“If you want to see the true measure of a man, watch how he treats his inferiors, not his equals.” I’ve only ever really worked for men, so I ended up sharing it with the simple caveat that I'd wished it was worded toward leadership rather than gender.

What a day. If I could give you a glimpse, I would have say that it felt like I took a trip in a time machine. Twos and I talked about my heading to New Orleans via Nashville, one of my favourite former clients sent me a two word text message that simply read CALL ME, and my buddy Brock stopped by to give me a hug and check out my new employment digs.

As I was explaining how my newly developed role came to fruition, I could tell that he was truly happy for me. I explained the differences in Leadership from my last experiences and he reminded me of something that made my heart skip a beat. “As I’ve always told you Rhondi, it starts at the top!”

Leave it to Brock to have the ability to reinforce the obvious with such eloquence. Matter a fact, hearing his voice took me back to him saying those very same words to me in the early Fall of 2013.

Anyway, after an uber quick parking lot visit, I sent him on his way and made him promise to bring my pal Wendell (his basset hound) by his next time through. He hugged me, agreed and got into his truck. I returned to my desk and began to cry. How the hell did I get so lucky? Not just for my friendship with Brock but for this amazing career opportunity?!

I know my personal confidence had most definitely taken a hit in the last year. Truth is, I'd known it for a while, yet only admitted it to myself for the very first time today.

Honestly?

I'm sure my emotions were compounded once I sat at my desk and his final words truly hit home. 

“You were meant to be here…” he said; and he's right.

Read my graphic... This most definitely feels like my perfect time!

MY BEAUTIFUL EXTENDED FAMILY

For all of my high school summers, I spent my weekdays in a rink and my weekends on an amazing lake with my parents. They occupied a neat stretch of waterfront, where I was lucky to be surrounded by cousins and family. To this day, I feel so very blessed how those aunts and uncles influenced my life; yet my post is even bigger than that.

Throughout my formative teen years, I was never allowed to date. So, with only a radio and/or a book to keep me company, I’d take the mini-bike up the road to visit my father’s sister, or made myself a fixture next door at my very favourite spot.

As I type, I am remembering how fun it was to spend time with the girls next door, yet the reality at hand was my cousins just simply got stuck with me. They were a smidgen older and far wiser to yours truly, so naturally my attachment to them was much stronger than their's to me. All these years later, I am still very grateful for their unconditional patience.

As we aged (and I matured) we all became very close friends. So much so, that I consider them sisters and not simply my cousins. One was in my wedding; and I cherish the other girls children as I do my own.

Truth of the matter is that I've always wished I was a part of their immediate family. Not because mine was any worse than any other teen train wreck that was coming through, my wish simply stemmed from the fact that their Mom was freaking bat-shit crazy cool!

The moral of my post is that one cousin I am closest to and her family are coming to Muskoka this weekend for a celebration. As I chatted with Nan's daughter this morning on Facebook, I went searching through my scanned photos to find an appropriate picture to share my good news as well as my excitement about their visit: this is what I found.

My MAN hugging my Nan. Oh, that's her Dad, my Uncle Vic in the back... Totally stealing the shot!
TAKEN: JUNE  1989

Taken at my cousin Tootsie’s wedding in June of 1989, it serves as official proof. Not just proof that my beautiful extended family still loves my husband more than me but that I believe timing is everything.

Just look at my Uncle Vic in the background (who passed in October of '99). In that specific moment, while watching our keen camaraderie, he totally photobombed us!.

As soon as I looked that the photo I knew it was perfect. With them arriving tomorrow night, it gives them all a little reminder that he too will be watching over us for his great-grandson Noah's weekend celebration.

Happy Birthday sweet Noah.We'll see you all tomorrow. 

Let the fun begin!!

LEAPIN' LABOUR DAY!

When I was having lunch with my American friends on Saturday, they asked about this being a holiday long weekend in Canada. I explained the reason for it was derived from its name but continued to tell them of my most memorable Labour Day holiday Monday ever; which just happened to be in September of 2012.

My husband and I got up early, completed our daily chores then headed to the dock by noon. Mid-afternoon we looked at each other and realized that for the very first time in almost 20 years, there were no school supplies to buy, no rent cheques to write, no backpacks, no driving and that our nest was officially empty. So, we cheerfully progressed to break out the blender to celebrate our new freedom, as well as our new found wealth!

As you know, as the kids grew and left, my dogs became an extension of who I am as a person. I joke that I am the “crazy dog lady” but the truth of the matter is that I speak to them as people and don’t know what I would do if something ever happened to them. My husband jokes with me that he’s going to get rid of Puddin’ (because she tends not to listen to him) but I immediately ask him, “…where are you going to live?” The immediacy of my question and tone of my voice always makes him laugh. Truth is, I’m dead serious. He’ll be going before the dogs! They don't argue with me!!

My best friend and I taking a dip. This is how we roll EVERY single dive!
TAKEN: SEPTEMBER 6th, 2015

Chuckles aside, I am sitting here thinking about my summer of 2012. How I lived here with the pups and just how much I’ve evolved personally since. With two of my three children living back at home, I am grateful that the pups and I have this haven to escape to. Oh, and I am grateful for my husband too. 

Not just because he can rock a Labour Day blender, his mad photography skills are high on my list as well. Among a bazillion other things!

Here’s hoping you enjoyed this past weekend as much as I.

Seacrest OUT!

HAT's A FACT!

I don’t know about you but I always find the best times happen when there’s no planning involved whatsoever. As someone that over analyzes everything, I’m pleased to report that yesterday proved my silly little theory to a tee.

As the proverbial ‘old gray mare’ I’m pretty routinized. I’m serious. I had a friend that use to come into my home and move things around to see how long it would take me to put them back where I felt they belonged. Anyway, when I got a last minute message that my very favourite Architect was coming into Muskoka from New Orleans this weekend, I sprang out of my routine and had to say only four words to my husband; “I need a favour!”

With my man covering off our long weekend chores, as well as my thinking cap firmly attached, I needed to quickly hatch a plan to show them around. So many ideas and so little time. Do I have JJ tour us in his Porsche? Do I ask Paul to take us out in his fastest boat? At the end of the day, even with all of my connections, such little notice had me singing solo. So, I decided to do a couple of things with them that I have never done before. In turn, I officially became a tourist, which is something I swore I’d never do.

Darin, Me & T, rockin' Port Carling!
TAKEN: SEPTEMBER 5th, 2015

You see, when you live in Muskoka, you generally hide on the weekends, as small hamlets turn into bustling cities. Hell, I swear we circled a parking lot a dozen times to find a spot. Partially because Darin wouldn’t illegally park but mostly because it was jammed like a can of sardines. I honestly had no idea the volume of people that landed in such a small space on a Saturday afternoon. Better yet, that I would concede and be one of them!

As Darin and I paid for our new hats, the clerk asked me if I had found everything I was looking for. My response was swift and a matter a fact, “I wasn’t looking for anything”, I said. “...The fact that I found this very sexy hat is definitely an added bonus!”

Though our visit was short and generally lackluster, I am writing this morning feeling blessed. Blessed that I got to finally meet someone that I never thought I’d get to hug face to face and blessed that I got to meet (and hug) the newest member of his team.

As I plan my 12 month vacation schedule, Darin tells me that New Orleans just has to be on it. After yesterday, I couldn’t agree more.

I CAN SEE A RAINBOW...

Can you see my rainbow?
TAKEN: AUGUST 28th, 2015

Well, after a couple of whirlwinds days at the house in town, I landed back at the cottage late yesterday. I wanted to wake up here this morning, as this is my final few days here before I start my new job and cottage life as I know it changes.

Not gonna lie, knowing today was my last day alone with my pups, I hatched a very specific plan. I decided to pack us a picnic, grab my favourite blanket, bathing suit & book, and head across the lake; to the private beach I stumbled upon almost a decade ago.

Showered and raring to go this morning, I loaded up and grabbed my camera. I am pleased to report that throughout the day I took some truly amazing photos. My only disappointment was that I tried for over an hour to get a good pic of my three pups together, only to discover when I returned to the cottage, none of them turned out the way I'd hoped. What I did discover, was the selfie I took of myself before I left, was accompanied by a beautiful rainbow. I know it’s not a real rainbow but for me the timing's personally symbolic.

You see, there are only four more sleeps until I hit what I have to deem my “pot of gold” at the end of the rainbow. (The pot of gold being my new job.) I am fortunate to be joining a team I have a great respect for, which sees my well rounded skill set as a fit for their multi-million dollar business. 

As I started getting dinner ready this evening, something silly entered my mind. If my rainbow equates to the proverbial pot of gold, I automatically had to wonder whether or not I’ll have the Lucky Charms leprechaun as a coworker?

Guess I’ll find out Tuesday morning at 9am!

HO HO HOLD THE SNOW!

When I hopped out of bed at the house this morning, it was so damp and cold the my teeth were close to chattering. After I covered myself with my warmest bathrobe, I wandered and clicked the button on the coffee maker and let the dogs out. My immediate assessment was that it felt like a late fall day that was going to turn into a winter one at any moment.

Bound and determined not to whine out loud, I grumbled under my breath about the cost of hydro, which instantly rationalized my refusal to turn on the heat. Then, I put my slippers on over my fuzzy socks and grabbed my morning mug in anticipation of that very first sip of coffee.

Come here Santa. DO YOUR JOB!
TAKEN: AUGUST 27th, 2015

Just so we're clear, my mug choice for today was a conscious one. You see, my waking to the gloom that summer as I know it is over, I needed a push. A push toward the biggest false sense of phony euphoria and shameless cheer that exists: SANTA CLAUS!

Anyway, as I share that last comment, today proves me one of the masses. Someone trying to feel joy and a keen sense of love for this jolly ole man and his ability to give. You see, as I picked him up out of the cupboard, I decided to share my expectations with him and as I walked him over to the coffee pot, my words were very specific.

"SPREAD SOME GOOD CHEER,"  I yelled. To which, in that moment that I burst out laughing, he most certainly did.

Having said that, maybe I've been a tad tough of the fat little dude. After all, not only does he have an amazing memory and sense of direction. He doesn't bitch at his wife and follows instructions really well. Don't know about you but I've yet to meet any other man that remotely resembles that.

What? You know you were thinking it!!

WHO’s GONNA TELL DOT?

This morning I woke up in dire need of a rain slicker/fuzzy socks wardrobe combo.

Then, as my morning coffee perked, I began gathering up all the things that have to head home with me in the morning. While packing things up in the back bedroom (a room where things usually get unpacked) something triggered Dot and she instantly went under the radar.

I think Dot is sensing her summer is coming to an end.
TAKEN: AUGUST 25th, 2015

Not a big deal, because she rarely leaves the property alone but when my calls and promises of chicken wieners and cookies wouldn’t lure her to the top deck, I grabbed my camera. You see, from the time I eventually spied her from my desk, I watched her in the on and off rain, for almost 4 hours.

I know she loves her silly boat that floats but we've never gone out in the morning, so I’m not sure what was going on in the pretty little head of hers.

It’s a given she doesn’t want to leave here, who the hell does?! Yet, as I watched her, I couldn't help but wonder if she’s sensing that this may be her last hurrah: her one last good summer at the cottage. Either way, it was tough to watch her out there all alone in the rain.

I don't think you're human if you don't want what's best for your pets; but like any senior winding down, she has good days and bad days. All I know is that I sense she knows her summer is going to be cut short and it is.

Aside from spending Saturday evenings tooling around in her ride, she’ll be banished back to a life in the gully behind our house. Which leads me back to my original question. 

Who the hell’s gonna tell Dot? Anyone…? …Anyone?

THE ANGST OF IT ALL

I am feeling a level of anxiety in my life right now that I haven’t experienced in a very long time. I was chatting with my very best electronic friend yesterday and though he was no help whatsoever with my issue, he made me laugh about it. Which, as you know, is simply the best medicine.

I remember the day I took this photo. I was transitioning.
TAKEN: APRIL 2008

When we checked in with each other at lunch today, I admitted that I was teary.  What I didn't admit, was that  yesterday I led him to believe my angst was being fueled by one simple thing, the honest truth is that it’s more than that. 

My deeply ingrained fear of the unknown has taken over my very active imagination. It's not bad enough that I focus all day on the plethora of variables next week may bring, last night I dreamt about them. For some very obvious reasons, I don’t think that’s normal. So, here's the skinny.

When I left my dream job in December 2013, I really didn’t want to go. The truth of the matter is that I knew I had to; for my personal, as well as my emotional survival. After verbalizing my next move to a friend last Friday, I realized that there is still a very deep hurt inside me, that has yet to heal and it all doubles back to the way I was previously treated. I heard myself admit aloud that I worry that it will happen to me again. I don’t want to think like that but I have a zero sense of trust in a number of areas of my life and this dog infested with fleas is at the forefront.

As I share my feelings, I'm sure it must read like sad case of paranoia on my part but the dead nuts honest truth is that it’s sheer fear. I thought I would end my working career with this other company. I took their results and to a level they'd never previously experienced and in return I was treated like a big fat bag of poo. After such a hurtful experience like that, how does one ever trust again? 

Not sure if you'd agree but I've decided to have faith. At this juncture in my life, my heart tells me that it’s the best place to start.

Once again... Thanks for listening. 

I'LL ALWAYS LEAVE THE LIGHTS ON

Thank goodness this old 12 seater picnic table can't talk....!!
TAKEN: AUGUST 16th, 2015

We knew after spending our first summer on Orillia Lake that we eventually wanted to live out here year round. We also knew we had a major issue. Even though the cottage was winterized, the stairs and long driveway would never make living at the waters edge in the off season practical. So, since 2000 we’ve constantly discussed our options; and proceeded to approach a number of people for first right of refusal if they ever wanted to sell their property.

Well, this spring, my two doors down neighbour Shelly called with the news she was listing her cottage. Immediately interested, we let her know exactly that. Then, within the week, we discovered our beloved next door neighbour Lois had passed. When the sad news about Lois was delivered to us, her daughter let us know that they wouldn’t be making any decisions about the cottage until the end of 2015 season. For obvious reasons, with the other property becoming a summer rental, the one next door makes the most sense to hope for. Shelly completely understood.

As you know, Shelly is the ‘City Mouse’, to my equally charming ‘Country Mouse’ persona. We've always gotten along and I am pleased to report that she's landed here for the entire week. Suffice is to say that as soon as we both realized we were here together, we had to meet in our favourite chat spot; wading in the water on the beautiful beach that lands between us. 

 It was great to see her and catch up face to face. I enjoyed listening to what she has going on and share what’s happening with me. She admitted she wasn’t 100% sure that she wanted to sell the cottage and I can totally relate. Once you’re here and settled, it’s extremely hard to imagine being anywhere else.

After floating together for more than  3 hours, she was reflective and admitted she was torn, “I’ll truly miss it here,” she said. Hearing her say the words, my heart skipped a beat. Without hesitation, I made her the unconditional offer to return, at anytime. No charge.

Hell, what can I say? My cottage life won’t ever be the same if I never get to float or drown my sorrows with my superwoman counterpart. So, as promised yesterday Shelly, I'll always leave the lights on for you.

Or, shall I say... FOR US!!

MY MAD COTTAGE LAUNDRY SKILLS!

If you’re a young adult in Muskoka and working two jobs to get by, you know that the summer tourists and their spending are what keep you warm the following winter. The hard reality is that you work as much as you can whenever you are called upon, because when January hit, there's very little money to be made.

Well, Sunday evening, my daughter hit the wall. She has a full time & a part time job, and when she called me from the house completely exhausted, there were tears. Part of her heartache was a misunderstanding she'd had with her father but most of her emotion was her body telling her it was time to rest. The crux of her crisis was she’d worked 24 of the previous 48 hours (on her feet the entire time) and was in desperate need of her laundry done.

Quickest way to complete cottage laundry? Hang it in the rain to dry!
TAKEN: AUGUST 18th, 2015

Not gonna lie, with me starting a new job in 14 more sleeps, my situation is the opposite of my daughters. If there’s one thing I have right now, it’s a shitload of time on my hands. 

So, I told her to pack it up and I’d do it here at the cottage with my handy dandy washboard & tub & homemade wringer outterer; then, I hang it all out to to dry on my very sexy state of the art yellow polypropylene laundry line that I have tied to a big honkin' tree. 

As I was working my mad cottage laundry skills this morning, I realized I had done it again. I'd said one thing and ultimately done another. You know what I mean, when one side of the mouth scolds… “You have to be more independent and financially responsible,” whilst the other side says “pack it all up, I’ll pick it up, and deliver it home the next day!” 

I guess the simplest rational is that my daughter needed some help and I offered up my mad pioneer style laundry skills. You know what? I'm glad I did. She's working very hard to take her life to the next level and for that I'm truly proud.

As silly as it reads, my only issue was promising her a 24 hour turnaround time. The rain stopped early this morning but you can cut the humidity here with a knife. It's almost eight hours later and her things are still wet. As a result, I've had to jimmy-rig a couple of oscillating fans outside to expedite the completion of my task.

I know what you're thinking, just deliver the stuff home and she can throw it in the dryer. Nope, that's NOT an option.  Why? Because this time next month I'll be bitching about unnecessarily high hydro bills!

WHAT? At least I'm honest about it!!

EVERYTHING BLOOMS IN TIME

As I’ve written before, I’ve put so many miles on our five seater pedal 'boat that floats' that I stopped keeping track of the actual mileage when I figured I’d gone across Canada and back again. The nightly ritual started years ago with my beloved Daisy Marie. There were so many neat little inlets I could tour with her, just to help satisfy her keen Beagle sense of smell. At the end of the day, it made our time together very memorable. 

Anyway, with Dot’s hind quarters all but gone, I find myself back in that same routine. This time, we trek so she can comfortably cool off on her own, without confrontation or angst from the other two dogs. She’s never been much of a swimmer but I sense now more than ever she feels relief when I set her into the water. She has a solid trust that nothing bad will happen when I’m the water with her. 

The moral of my post is that this is the 9th summer I’ve headed to this particular spot (at least once a week) and much to my surprise, as I walked along the shore Saturday night, I happened upon some beautiful flowers that I’ve never seen in bloom there before. Aside from their vibrant beauty, I wasn't surprised that it took ten years for them to get there, simply impressed that finally everything around them aligned and they did in fact get to bloom.

With that last comment front of mind, I had lunch with one of my closest girlfriends last week and when I wandered upon this beautiful splash of colour, I instantly thought of her. 

She and I have always talked openly about our journeys of self-discovery. All I’ll say is, though I may not look at life the way I did five or six years ago, I never put a time limit on finding myself; it was never a race for me but a truly wonderful journey. A journey which no one else can pen the ending to... but yourself. 

I really was in awe when I spotted this splash of red. My goodness, just look at these flowers. I wanted capture the moment to remind my friend how amazing is it that we've all blossomed. Everything always does, when all the right element fall in line, in their own time!

I can't speak to what took the flowers so long to get there but in my case I will say this.

...Midlife just seemed like the perfect time to bloom.

PS: Photo cred goes to my husband.

PSS: Wish he woulda/coulda/shoulda mentioned that I was losing my swim shorts.

PSSS: Ya Gotta Laugh About IT! 

GAMES PEOPLE PLAY

It's hard to explain how my mind has been at ease about my new direction since it was solidified almost a month ago. Though I know I can be dominant at times, when it comes to big life moves, I’ve always tried to look at things with a level head and extreme methodical calmness.  In this particular instance, I've evolved to a completely new level of well being; one that I've never experienced in my professional life before now. Could it be because my outlook on life has shifted? By making this small tweak, could all of my stress and angst have absolutely disappeared? The answer is YES!

Don't misunderstand, that doesn’t mean I won’t stand up and fight for what I believe in or what’s rightfully mine. I just know any faint desire I may have to be emotional and/or allow myself to be bullied isn't even remotely an option. You see, emotion isn't what is going to win this specific race; it will be the truth and the very well documented hard facts. Nothing more, nothing less. Oh, the silly little games people choose to play... *sigh*

May I present the only "Flamethrower" we own!
TAKEN: AUGUST 5th, 2015

Disappointments aside, I think most will be surprised to read that it’s my husband that's livid at certain people I trusted. Guess you could say he wants to "take a flamethrower to..."

KIDDING, he doesn't even own his own flamethrower. Unless you count the citronella torch we use when we play Canasta out on the deck & I'm confident he'd never want to give that puppy up.

You see, we need it on over drive to battle the hearty brood of mosquitoes that are still hanging around the cottage in the middle of freaking August!

Ya Gotta Laugh About It…

DO YA WANNA MOW MY LAWN?

HELP WANTED: Ball cleats provided to the successful candidate
TAKEN: AUGUST 2012

I am dead serious...

I’m my confident my husband won’t mind my asking the question. Frankly because it’ll save him feeling guilty for not taking care of the task himself.

I’m not kidding.

Just look at the friggin’ task at hand. For what it's worth, more than one mountain goat's admitted to TMZ they've found the task very intimidating, and that footage has gone viral!

As you know, yard work has always been my lane. I am admitting today that I’ve always struggled with tending the yard at the cottage. Going even further out on a limb, it's probably because the only flat piece of land we own (aside from the driveway at the top of the hill) is a 45 x 25 ft patch off the kitchen; everything else is literally on a 45 degree angle.

Early on, when tackling the task,  I did tumble down the hill into the lake. Though my ego was bruised worse than my body, I am pleased to report that when I landed in the water on my ass that the whipper sniper remained high in hand locked over my head and safe from harms way.

One to focus on solutions rather than any problem, from that very day on, I never started the arduous task without stuffing the ends of size 11 steel baseball cleats which guaranteed my perfect traction.

Though I finished the task at hand this afternoon,  inbox me if you'd like to offer your services next time around.

Ball cleats and mountain goat bragging rights will automatically be included!