Covid races

Our neighbour told us. If we hurried, if we really hurried, we could get our vaccines. They were giving them out at the local market just over there. And we didn’t need an appointment.

We ran.

But the speed of a car, even one driven like a maniac, can’t beat that of gossip. By the time we got there, the word was out and the line up was massive.

We never even slowed down. We ran up to the last spot and breathlessly took our place in line…And then we waited…and waited…and waited some more.

Waiting isn’t exactly an absorbing occupation. Half an hour later, we had learned all we could about the vegetables on the stands and we turned to the people around us. How did you hear about this? Have you registered anywhere yet?

This was where it started to get weird. One person was certain that we could register online and get an appointment in a certain Walmart because she knew the owner. Another knew a guy who would give anyone vaccines that were off-market but still could beat the virus. Someone else claimed they could get an appointment for anyone using a fake address in Toronto. One even claimed she could make a vaccine out of some common household items and she guaranteed it worked. It seemed everyone knew someone who had gotten a vaccine in under 10 minutes using a trick or a gimmick.

I was about to try a strange website that someone was vowing was fail-proof to get us vaccinated when the market manager appeared and told us they had run out of vaccines.

On the other hand, if anyone is interested in a homemade vaccine, I know a recipe that’s guaranteed to work…

Morning kisses

We have morning kisses in our house. They don’t actually involve my husband and I. They involve…well, our doggies.

It started innocently enough, with me giving our two pooches kisses after they ate their breakfast. I was just hugging and petting them because they’re simply adorable and so loving that I couldn’t hold back the kisses.

Soon, though, it turned into something bigger. Ocean started ignoring her breakfast until she had received her ‘quota’ of kisses. And now, her bowl of food doesn’t have the attraction my smile and hands do. Her ears flatten sideways, her tail waves like crazy and she wiggles her entire body dancing her way towards me; thrilled at the prospect of those kisses.

It’s a mutual thing. I believe there is something therapeutic in seeing a little creature closing her eyes with bliss while I kiss her forehead and ask her how her night was. I whisper softly into her ears and tell her I love her and that she’s going to have a lovely day and I believe I get more out of it than she does.

My hubby, the therapist explained to me that witnessing something horrific is traumatic for those who see it. I believe the opposite is therapeutic. It certainly feels like it. When I kiss River’s flat, soft head and tell him that there is a sunny-filled day waiting for him outside and he closes his eyes and sighs, I can feel a part of me heal.

Best therapy in the world.

Shhhh

So, here’s the thing. I kiss my doggies. I hug and pet them and whisper things to them and ask them questions. I rub their tummies and tickle their bellies and kiss their ears. They love it and I love it. I do it all the time and it often involves me rolling around with them.

My lovely hubby has told me time and time again that I should keep my distance a little bit and that shoving my face into their fur is not a good idea. But, what does he know, right?

Well, this morning I woke up with one eye open and the other closed. I have an eye infection.

I’m honestly hoping he won’t notice…a lot.

In other news, I did finish my painting.

On happiness

“You know, the house is all wired for a hot tub.”

This was said by my lovely hubby, who has been hinting at getting one of those things for weeks now. I have argued against it because they are super expensive and we already have an indoor pool. Add a hot tub and we’ll never get rid of the house guests.

My reasons don’t seem to be making a difference. He’s pretty determined. It’s the one thing, he claims that will ensure his happiness.

I should really give him a quote on happiness from the Buddha.

Top 50 inspirational Buddha quotes on Happiness | Volume 5 | Buddha quotes  in English | Motivation - YouTube

Or maybe I should just show him this picture. River is a master of happiness. And all he needs is…kisses.

On veganism

Well, turns out, being vegan didn’t agree with me. About a month ago, I wasn’t feeling quite well and, after some bloodwork, it turns out I am anemic. So, I now take iron supplements and have to eat meat like a lion in the jungle.

Now, I’m not saying that being vegan is unhealthy. I am sure there are vegans out there who are thriving on the regime. It just seems to not work for me. And it’s a shame, because I was sort of into it.

Now, after hearing that we’re back to eating animals, my cooking ideas sort of dried up. I didn’t know how to cook (and still have no idea) meat. I stared at chicken breasts with dread fearing salmonella and other unseen dangers. What I have finally come up with is buying cooked chickens or cooked hams or cooked meat and doing a side dish.

My side dishes don’t have to be vegan but this one is. It’s a macaroni and cheese side dish that goes well with any meat and is to die for. I got it from Oh She Glows, of course, and the cheese sauce alone made my husband give me a glare.

“Why haven’t you made this before!” he asked through a mouthful.

Obviously, it was a hit.

Finished

Well, it was never going to be a thing of beauty and certainly the architectural tectonics were never going to win any prizes. Still, it’s finished. Done.

Yeap. The dogs don’t know what to do with it…and the humans aren’t that certain either.

What is it?

I did mention that my lovely hubby wanted to make a sort of dog-house/ramp, right? Well, it’s happening. Believe it or not, this…thing is now in our backyard.

It is…well, I don’t know what it is and I have doubts that my hubby does either. He’s there with a friend, nailing and cutting and laughing and building. The dogs are with them too, oblivious at the purpose of the ruckus around them.

There have been mistakes made, bandaids requested and cookies baked. The dogs are covered in saw dust and the men are exhausted. Still, construction continues.

I’m certain most of the birds in the neighbourhood are hoping this is somehow going to be a house for them. Considering the success of our previous dog houses, they might be the only ones using the thing.

Whatever it is.

Musings on a Sunday morning

I don’t like change. So, when we moved homes, I thought I would have a little trouble adjusting. I wasn’t prepared for my resistance to the new home. I had picked the house with my hubby after all; I should be happy to live there.

The house didn’t feel scary or weird. It just felt…strange. I didn’t see it as ours and there were nooks and crannies that I thought were not for us.

It’s been months since the move. You’d think I would have gotten used to the house by now but I’m still struggling. Certainly, there are parts that feel more homey now but there is still a lingering feeling of living in a stranger’s house.

It helps that I have added plants to most rooms. I love plants. There are some that are growing in delight and their new buds make me smile every time I see them.

It helps that our two pooches have no such issues. They run around and bounce on the ‘guest’ beds with delight leaving doggie footprints all over the fresh sheets and giving those strange rooms a touch of ‘doggie’. Most people would be rightfully upset at the mess but, I’m silly about my dogs, I love every bit of them, even their rambunctiousness.

It helps to clean the house. I have done loads of laundry, cleaned floors, moped cobwebs and dusted nooks and crannies. I even moped the walls of some rooms. Poking around like that, I have found light switches that don’t turn anything on, remotes for non-existing machines and a very nice-looking pool cue. I still have to check out the attic. I wonder what mysteries lie in that space.

Then my husband said something that made me pause. He said, maybe we should get another dog…And all silly thoughts about the house immediately flew out of my head. Instead, I dreamed a happy dream…

 

Where my hubby is crazy

We were thinking about trying to get something like a dog house for our two fluff-balls in our yard when I mentioned that Ocean loves to climb on things…

And my hubby decided to take action. He talked to a buddy and came up with this idea for our dogs.

I’ve seen smaller castles.

Washing the dog a la hubby

We’re in the middle of packing our house. We’re trying to get a fence put up in our future house, we’re also trying to deal with a finicky well that’s not behaving, we’re packing and we’re working full time. So, what did we decided to do at this busy time?

Wash our dogs.

We had one little brain cell working though and we decided to only wash one dog. We picked River because he’s the biggest and hairiest and he itches, so he needs a wash more than fluffy, little Ocean.

We tried washing said pooch at a professional place, but River doesn’t like strangers. And we tried a self-serve wash that only poured out dirty water and made River dirtier than ever. Desperate, my lovely hubby decided to do this at home.

Never mind that we didn’t have a tub for a dog, or a way to dry the animal. He was determined to get it done. We were going to use our claw-footed delicate tub and to dry him (get ready,) we would use the leaf blower.

Hubby thought this last point was completely logical and practical. I was more hesitant. River doesn’t like loud noises and River is pretty big. I was pretty certain the idea ranked up there with trying to pet a porcupine. Still, never let it be said that I don’t have an open mind, we gave it a go.

Of course, the bath was a disaster. Of course, River got out while he was soaped and wet making a dash for it. Of course, the claw-foot tub is barely hanging in there after the experience and the bathroom looks like a bomb went off in it.

But the worst was yet to come.

To say that drying him off was a nightmare is the understatement of the century. Hubby held on to the massive leaf-blower while I held on to River’s leash. We counted down and he turned on the thing…

And River was simply gone. I was on the ground, getting the benefit of the leaf-blower’s power and hubby was trying to turn off the blasted machine. The only one who didn’t get blown around was River. He legged it out there faster than I’ve ever seen him move.

Many towels and several cups of tea later, we sat in our living room and took stock of our loses. River was still wet. The bathroom was catastrophic. There was a smell in the house, a mixture of wet dog, dirt and human exhaustion, that was hard to describe. And there were clumps of wet dog hair practically everywhere the eye could see.

With an exhausted sigh, I turned to my hubby.

“It wasn’t that bad,” he observed, indomitable. “We should do Ocean next week.” And a couple of dog hairs fell off his head.