Tag Archive | osoyoos

Sneaky Yoga

Jul3

It’d be wonderful to be able to say one had been injured falling from a bike, riding a horse, water skiing, but no, my back is wrecked thanks to yoga. I’ve been alternating weights one day, yoga the next so imagine my surprise to find it was the yoga that injured me.  So simple, just kneel, put your left leg forward into a lunge, raise your right arm and bring it to the outside of the left knee and look toward the back corner of the mat. Just a simple twist, but for some reason, my body balked.

I’m taking advantage of it by doing even less than I would normally do, physically that is. I still have to work on my kids book as I want to complete the third by the end of this summer. Then I’ll have a nice little series of three featuring the dachshunds as the neighbourhood crime watch. You’ll be absolutely stunned when you see the illustrations an artist is doing for them.

It’s kind of insulting the way the dogs act when I clean or put on makeup. It’s like I never do these things, so when I do they think something’s up. And I suppose it must be true, as dogs are creatures of habit. When I put on makeup, I’m generally going out, or else someone’s coming. I always clean before a guest comes due to the mountains of cat and dog fur everywhere, so it makes sense.

But when I’m just at home, deciding to clean for the hell of it, no-one coming, I do feel the sting of the dogs’ quiet judgement. Alright, already, I’ll vacuum and dust more frequently if that’s what you’re on about.

Remember Joan Rivers’ old joke? You vacuum, make the beds, clean the bathroom, do the dishes, and why? Six months later you have to do it all over again.

Yesterday I made a very poor-quality roast for Calvin, Visini and their guest Dominic from Hungary. I stupidly decided I’d try something different and make a medium rare kind of roast, whereas I’m really best at the well-cooked pot roasts and stews. And of course it was tough as shoe leather, though I’d prepared for that with an immense number of fatty sides.

I’d also made my four-layer chocolate cake and distributed large pieces topped with ice cream. All of that seemed to take their minds of the dreck roast. I said to Visini the next time I say to you I’m going to experiment with something new, stop me.

Here’s something absolutely disgusting and terrifying: Calvin saw a very large rat in the storage room downstairs. About a month ago when Sylvie came to feed the cats as we were away, she said she heard a scrabbling sound. I said probably some half-beaten animal the cats dragged in. But no, it’s a healthy rat, enjoying all the Purina Cat Chow it can hold.

I wondered why I would have 7 empty cans of cat food in a day and now I know why. I’m terribly disappointed in the cats for not killing it and its kin, of which I imagine there are many given the endless supply of food. I’ve now removed all cat food and will get a few nice big strong rat traps and hope to Jesus I rid the house of them. Can you imagine?

By the next time I write, I will have celebrated the first birthday of my life without my mom. I had 71 of them with her, so that’s quite an extraordinary number. Mom being the kind of person she was, she always held large outside galas on her deck in the Osoyoos heat. This year I’ll be busy setting rat traps instead and that’s fine, too.

I’m Finally Addressing the Stomach

Jun5

 I finally got so fed up with my large girth that I’ve started a serious program to counter it. My arms and legs, also my ass, appear to be normal-sized, but my stomach looks like I’m a couple of weeks away from giving birth. A wonderful miracle at my age, to be sure. But because it’s both visceral and subcutaneous fat, it’s simply gotta go.

The thing that pushed me right over the edge was finding a cute dress that was perfect in every way, except for one area. Yes, the stomach. So now I’m going to try to avoid sugar and flour and see what that brings. God knows the alcohol’s staying, as that’s as necessary as oxygen to this carcass.

I don’t think a soul’s looked at Mom’s property, and I’m perfectly fine with that. Now I want it to take forever to sell so that I can use it for a vacation home. God knows I’m hoping it’ll be unsold at the end of September when the Ya Ya’s are having a reunion. I believe Renate’s unavailable due to just coming home from Europe at that time, so it’ll just be the five of us.

The iffy part’s the accommodation, which is at Mary’s house in Osoyoos. It means sharing rooms and that’s one thing I’ve realized is not good for my sleep. Some poor person is going to be on a hideabed in the living room, and another sad soul has to go outside the house up a set of stairs to sleep on a cot in Mary’s bedroom. Sounds glam, right?

I think you can see why I’m willing the stars for Mom’s place not to be sold so I can drive over there and sleep like a log. It’s a strange venue when we’re all retired boomers with means, but whatever. I said I’d prefer a nice Airbnb somewhere in the south Okanagan, but the others went hell no, we want to bunk up and have a pajama party. Jesus.

I discovered tubi.com so am now watching old movies such as Invasion of the Body Snatchers, Midnight Cowboy, The Stepford Wives and many more. Some I’m watching for the second time, hence I haven’t seen them in 50 years…. Perhaps I should be trying to get with the more recent times, but honestly when you haven’t seen a movie in that long it seems new.

My nice neighbour Jim came over with his saw and tried his best to fix the awful-looking fence I had built. He managed to get all the tops even which helps a lot, but it’s still an ugly fence. I wonder what a person does with something so hideous? Years ago, I would’ve gone berserk over something like that, but either thanks to age or alcohol, or both, I’m able to shrug. Oh well.

As you know I’ve been working on my second kids’ book featuring Louie and Frieda as dachshund detectives. The other day, just before the deadline for the kids’ book writing contest, I realized what I’d typed the day prior hadn’t been saved. I then worked for nine hours straight so that I could hope to recall the changes that I’d made. By the time I had my submissions ready for the contest I was a wreck. Cocktail, please.

My grandniece River posted something on TikTok that netted 6 million views and 1 million likes, and she said maybe I would do well with the mutts. I’m sad to say I have an Instagram account that I might remember to look at once a month or so, hence I have low expectations as to how I’d fare on something like TikTok. But hey, I’ll sign up and give it a shot because it might be a fun venture.

Bears, Deer, Ants

May21

Imagine my surprise to enter the chicken coop to find the feeder pulled down off the chain and thrown out through the coop door; the Tupperware of chicken feed was opened and dragged, and plastic was torn from the wall in one corner. I emailed Calvin and said some crazy raccoon must’ve gone into the coop. An hour later I got the video taken by our outdoor camera of a black bear zipping in and out of the coop.

A chicken would come out, then the bear, then two chickens went under the coop followed by the bear. All chickens survived! It was quite a dusty ruckus out there, and where was I and the dogs? Right here in the house calmly washing dishes, listening to YouTube and napping (dogs). This was all going on just meters from the house and I had no idea.

So then I got a company to come in and build a fence to keep bears out, and that’s a topic for a psychiatrist’s couch. Very traumatizing to come home to something that resembles a high security prison wall and has all the charm of one used for a firing squad. And the thing is, it still won’t keep out a determined bear so whatever all of that was about I have no idea.

Then a few days ago I heard intense barking and came out to two deer just inches from the dachshunds. They were barking furiously and I know a deer can mess up a little dog, so I was screaming for them to come. Suddenly one got crabby and gave Lou a push with her foreleg, like, get outta here, dog. He wasn’t hurt and both dogs finally came in.

We have millions of ants marching into the house at all times. Calvin got big pails, filled them with borax and put them into the yard hoping to attract the pests, but no, nothing. Today when I was gardening I suddenly felt something in my ear, and sure enough, an ant. I think the entire attic of this house must be a giant ant’s nest, but whatever. They have to live too, I guess.

On the long weekend I went to Osoyoos as did my nieces and their families for a farewell to Mom. I stupidly didn’t have anyone take pictures for me on my camera, so I have none. I’ve begged the nieces for them but can only hope they take pity on their old aunt. I was going to ask our neighbour Lynne to come and take a group photo but neglected to do so.

All of the food I’d prepared was eaten with great joy. On Friday night we had lasagne, and on Saturday it was roast pork. Sunday’s dinner was chicken Marbella. I’d also baked (see last blog) and all of that except for a few muffins got consumed. Dinner for 11 twice, and dinner for 8 once was a challenge, but a very doable one.

You know how competitive I am, so I’m going to enter the Canadian Children’s Society of Children’s Authors, Illustrators and Performers (CANSCAIP) writing contest. My books featuring the dachshunds as the neighbourhood crime watch is for kids ages 7 – 9. The very nice thing about this contest is that it’s super cheap and they also provide feedback which is the most valuable part.

I made the worst lunch ever for Mother’s Day for my friends Gitte and Roxanne, as I thought I could make vol au vent shells from frozen puff pastry. Luke’s coming tomorrow to help Calvin work on a car so I’ll make dinner for the three of us and will hope for more of last weekend’s successes.

Mom’s Property is now For Sale

May8

 Mom’s property is now listed, so please check it out: https://brandongrass.com/listing/10385279
I’ve spent days there fixing things up and trying to make it all as adorable as possible. When I describe it to people it seems most appropriate for dreamers. Because it has the larger and smaller homes, plus the 100 feet of private lake, the possibilities are endless. I feel embarrassed by the price, but this is what the realtor felt was the right one, so okay.

Calvin had another successful birthday party here on Hall Road. His friends are all so nice and I feel flattered they’d want an old bat to hang out with them. Of course I have much worse habits than any of them do so they’re probably all thinking ‘Jesus, can ya dial it back a bit, lady?’ Boomers – we’re still stuck in the 1970’s.

Calvin had ordered Korean chicken, half of which was delicious and the other half was so hot some people couldn’t eat it. I, however, had foolishly taken three pieces of it, and damn it, I was going to eat it if it killed me. It nearly did, and I’ll spare you the details of the following morning. Suffice to say Calvin also agreed next year more of the honey soy and less of the Incinerate Yer Esophagus variety.

I’m thrilled to announce I’ve found a wonderful, talented illustrator for my series of three kids’ books featuring Louie and Frieda. They imagine themselves the detectives of the neighbourhood and constantly misunderstand clues and do funny, damaging dachshund things along the way. The first one is being illustrated right now, and the second book is soon to go to my editor, so the series is coming along.

I never in my life imagined I’d enjoy writing kids’ books, but the dogs are naturals for hilarious hijinks. Many of the things the dogs do in the books are real-life experiences I’ve had living with the breed. They’re not called ‘the comedians of the dog world’ for nothing. If you have kids, I hope you’ll order The Low-Down on Crime when it comes out.

Louie’s now 13 and his teeth are in such bad shape the young gals who do the non-anesthetized dog cleaning won’t do his anymore. He’d have to go to the vet and go under to have them done, and at his age I wonder if it’s wise. He also went to the special eye vet, and she noted the little growth on his eyelid and said given his age we should probably leave it. Then added “of course if he lives to 18 we’ll be mad we didn’t do it.”

Sigh. Life’s filled with choices we aren’t able to make. Then we make a decision, and it’s wrong, so we become paralyzed. Did I say “we?” I meant me. You’ll recall I decided to sit on the stage for Guys and Dolls, which I then did, and it was non-threatening. It was fun to be sitting there and thankfully I wasn’t asked to perform a song or a dance, so it was the right choice to make this time.

Sylvie came for Happy Hour (actually dinner) and I made chicken skewers with pineapple and green pepper. I learned a trick for improving chicken breast meat which is to marinate it in a bit of oil mixed with a teaspoon of baking soda. It actually turned out very nicely; then a few days later I made the old Ina Garten panko-crusted salmon for Marie and I for lunch.

Cooking and baking are what I do to help me remain calm. When Mom’s listing first came out it had errors in it which caused a useful frenzy of pineapple upside down cake, cookies and brownies.

A Bizarre Amount of Cooking

Mar26

 After my trip to Mexico and Belize, followed by two and a half weeks of “Bill” in the house, I found myself terribly behind on lunches for friends. To catch up, I ended up scheduling almost back-to-back meals, lunches and dinners alike.

On Saturday, I made Ina Garten’s panko-crusted salmon with Amish pasta salad and a green salad for Chad and Miranda. Since it was Chad’s birthday, I also baked a vanilla layer cake with strawberry cream icing. The next day, Marie came for lunch, and I whipped up her favourite: Cactus Club-style chicken lettuce wraps.

Tuesday was Petra’s birthday, so I hosted a dinner for the Crones. The menu included chicken thighs in Dijon cream sauce, scalloped potatoes, a sweet-and-sour cucumber salad, and a tossed green salad to start. After nearly a week of kitchen marathons, it was a treat to meet Gitte for lunch at Joey’s. All I had to do was eat—and drink. Sadly, cocktails nearly cost as much as the main meal, so you really have to want that drink. I always do.

Wednesday Patricia came for lunch. Since her birthday had just passed, I made a fish stew, kind of a bouillabaisse with mixed seafood in tomato sauce, and toasted sliced baguette smeared with a roasted red pepper and garlic mayonnaise for dipping. It turned out very well, if I do say so myself.

Tomorrow Elsa’s coming for lunch, and Saturday Sylvie’s coming for dinner, so the cooking continues. Like Alison’s mom Pauline, I love sprawling on the couch, flipping through cookbooks, and plotting my next culinary experiment. So far, no one’s complaining.

I’m going to haul dozens of containers down to Osoyoos and fill them with dirt and probably pansies. I need to pretty-up Mom’s house and the property in general. I don’t have any time for the garden here in Kelowna that’s for sure, though I’ll plant my usual dahlias as that’s where I draw the line on sacrifice.

Thinking of the contents of Mom’s house is terrifying. I’ve harboured this strange fantasy of someone buying the house and saying they want to keep everything in it. But why would they? It hasn’t really been updated in forty years, so it’d have to be someone with a strong yearning for the 80’s.

Well, never mind. The nieces are coming for the May long weekend for a small family good-bye to Mom and Gerry (both boxes of ashes are side by side in Mom’s closet), and I’ll see if the girls are interested in any of the items there. For instance, Mom has at least 100 paintings, so that’s a big problem.

Between my fear of becoming a hoarder and the glut of items I’m about to face at Mom’s, I decided it was time to clean out my linen closet. It was scary to see how my mind works. Does anyone really use 18 tablecloths? Why did I buy the three matching towels with the giraffe-themed border?

I know what you’re thinking. Didn’t I say Elsa was coming tomorrow? Yes, she is, and yes, we’re doing our usual treasure hunting prior to lunch here. I just have to pray very hard to the Muse of Not Finding Anything to descend upon me tomorrow.

Living in a Viper’s Den

Mar13

Spoiler alert: I’m the viper. People ask, but how did you get here, and I reply I’m not exactly sure. However in January I needed someone to stay with the mutts while I went to Belize. My garden and yard helper, let’s call him Bill, had moved to Nova Scotia, didn’t like it and wanted to return to Kelowna at the very same time as my trip.

I then said well come and stay here with the dogs, and then you can start looking for your own place. I arrived home late on February 24th and Bill said, good news, he’d found a place, however it wasn’t available until March 15. Gulp. He’s a very nice person and all, but we aren’t close buddies, if you know what I mean.

So then cohabiting with an employee began, and there were many bumpy moments, all on my part as I discovered I cannot stand living with another human being. I adore travelling with Margaret, or staying with Alison, but for me, having to live with someone I really don’t know turned into a harrowing experience. For Bill.

At one point he admitted he didn’t feel comfortable, and I thought maybe it’s because of the icicles forming all over my body when we’re near each other. I explained to him that I’m unaccustomed to living with anyone, and so I hope there’s no offense taken if I pick up my laptop and move into another room. I said I can’t do this otherwise. He seemed to understand.

In the midst of this, I’ve also been to the courthouse four times with my probate forms, only to be sent home with corrections. I figure the fifth time’ll be the charm. If I can get those accepted, I’ll be halfway to my goal of settling all of mom’s life. My last trip to Osoyoos I once again filled the car with books, tablecloths, bowls, pans, and many other things from 80 years in the same house.

The reason for this is that I decided I can’t take the stress of owning mom’s property and it will be put up for sale. First time ever as my dad bought the land in the early 1930’s for $200. Of course it’ll be very sad to say goodbye to that, however whenever I’m there, I see all of the things that need to be done to maintain an old house. I already own an old house here in Kelowna and am dismayed by it.

Luke is balking at cleaning up his yard, but the realtor insists the place has to look neat and tidy. I’m hiring Luke’s pal to come and do some painting to spruce the place up. The private 90 feet of Osoyoos Lake that goes with the property is probably the biggest draw, so I plan on staining the deck and maybe prettying it up with planters of flowers.

The irrigation man was here yesterday digging a deep trench around my fruit trees and beds down in the vegetable garden where the greenhouse is. I had called the company to say I don’t want to continue moving hoses around down there all summer and requested underground irrigation that I can just turn on or off at will. It’ll be like the invention of the light bulb, a miracle.

But in the meantime I have two more nights of Bill and I bumping into each other in the kitchen or the only bathroom. Yes, we have to share a bathroom. When I went to Osoyoos Jan, being a Thai Buddhist said it was nice I had a friend staying. I said he is not a friend, so she said “oh good for you, you do good thing to help him.” And I said no, Jan, I want to kill him, so it’s not a good thing.

Sure, I Eat Fruit

Jan23

I was in Osoyoos last week on what I thought would be a simple errand: dropping off Mom’s will at the Bank of Montreal and the Credit Union. Silly me. What actually happened was the closing of one account, the transferring of another, several forms, multiple online identity checks involving unflattering close-up photos of my face, and, because why not, a scheduled phone interview with someone in Eastern Canada. Apparently even dying now requires follow-up questions.

Nothing, as it turns out, is easy in this process.

While there, Luke and I got to talking about fruit. He said he eats two or three peaches a season. That sounded about right to me, I probably eat the same.

When I got home, however, I immediately polished off a box of cherry cordials from Purdy’s that my friend Jerralynn had brought me. She knows I like them enrobed in dark chocolate.

Afterward, I thought, See? I do eat fruit.Granted, the cherries have first been bleached in a lye bath, dyed with Red Dye #3, soaked in high-fructose corn syrup, and then sealed in chocolate, but still. I don’t know why I’m so hard on myself at times.

People are aghast that I should have the audacity to attempt to do the probate forms myself. I say piffle to that. If I get to a place where I simply can’t go on then I’ll hire a lawyer. But for now everything seems to be ticking along: Form P1 sent to the nieces, requested a Wills Notice Search, asked for and received a Date of Death Valuation Statement. All good so far.

The hardest part of the forms is the medium, not the message. Trying to figure out Adobe was fun at the beginning. When I was finally able to email the first form for Calvin to print for me, it was named “Form P1,10th Try.” But you have to hand it to me, I don’t give up easily.

I’ve sent a parcel to the kids in Japan which is always a shock as it’s very expensive. However if it brings a few chuckles to the grandkids it’s worth it. I added a jar of peanut butter as I read it’s very expensive in Japan and Nick plus the kids are crazy over it.

I also saw on one of the YouTube channels I like about Japan that fruit can cost hundreds of dollars per piece. In the “luxury tier” a musk melon can go for around $200. Special mangoes sell for $50 to $100 for a pair of them. I feel better when I see that and realize how much money I would save if I lived in Japan.

Every time I leave Osoyoos I fill the trunk with items for thrift. Now when I go to shop with Elsa I see all kinds of items that used to be Mom’s. A very nice person sent me a message on my Fruitcake Facebook page saying they’d found some type of plaque with Mom’s name on it, so had Googled her and were fascinated by all that she accomplished in her life.

I know, it seems heartless to get rid of all of that kind of stuff, but trust me, I kept all of the “good accolades.” That includes the Order of BC and her Jubilee Medals from the Queen which were awarded for volunteerism.

So now when people say so are you enjoying your free time without all the things you had to do for your Mom, I reply steely-eyed, “you have no idea.”

Road Trip

Sep5

Luke and I went on a trip to Maple Ridge last weekend to celebrate Sunny and Mike’s 25th wedding anniversary. We’ve been there twice before together, once in ’20 for Freddie’s memorial, and again in ’22 for Twig’s. This time it was for a far happier occasion, however as with the other two times, car issues arose.

The first time Luke insisted on driving his old Honda civic, and somewhere near the summit of the Coquihalla it overheated. We had to pull over, he opened the hood and steam poured out. I was sure we’d miss the event, but because he already knew it was a piece of shit car, he had brought bottles of water for just such an emergency. After a bit of a wait, we were back on our way.

On the second trip we went in my Jetta because I didn’t want a repeat of the first one. All went well until we left Sunny’s place to drive to Julie’s where we were spending the light when the red oil light came on. We were both shocked by that as I do the regular oil changes every six months. The next day however we went straight to a gas station and while it was low, it was somehow overreacting, and all was well for the drive home.

This time Luke picked me up in his 1997 Crown Victoria. As we drove down the driveway and turned onto Hall Road, I said “it sure squeaks.” But the car ran fine, and as we neared Merritt Luke said we were low on gas but should be able to make it to Hope. I said maybe you should just go into Merritt and get gas, but he said no, that’ll waste 20 minutes we can make it.

This is what I really don’t want to hear when driving along. “Uh oh, I think that gauge was wrong, we only have 2 litres of gas left, I hope we make it.” Jesus, I hate that. So I just decided to think positive, pray a bit as well for good measure, and somehow after the car dinged the third and final warning that we were about to run out of gas, we turned off for Hope and into a gas station. Phew!

The party was a lot of fun as I know so many of those people, and I was able to visit with my grand nieces and nephew a bit. They were busy bartending and visiting with their friends. Amber is 11 and can make a very good Caesar. The event was catered and there were tons of food leftover which they planned to divvy up and freeze.

The next day the drive home was very painful for Luke as he was hungover. I felt fine, so I asked him if I should drive but he said no, he could do it. Imagine our shock when we arrived at my house to see Joan lying flat on her stomach in front of the steps. We asked what happened, and she said she’d fallen the night before, and had crawled this far and couldn’t get any further.

We got her up onto a chair and plied her with water. As Luke still had to get to Osoyoos, and given his state, he said he had to leave and drove off. I tried to help Joan into her car and couldn’t so called Old Faithful, aka John Patterson, and he drove right over and helped us. You know what they say, a friend in need, is a friend indeed.

I then went to Osoyoos where mom appears able to walk minus her walker, but only when in a trance. One night she walked down two steps to her old bedroom, slept in that bed for a while, then returned to the upper part of the house. I said to her see? you think you can’t walk, but it turns out you can. Isn’t that spooky? It means she’s still able to stalk people, coming upon them without warning.

A lot of Lunches

Aug7

It’s interesting, but I’ve become a kind of a ghost placeholder for widowers. First my friend Ron, Rhonda’s widower came, and I made a ground pork, cheddar and noodle casserole, which he liked a lot. We talked about dear Rhonda and how wonderful she was, and I sent him off with a hug and a piece of chocolate cake.

Then came lunch for my friend Patricia where I had cleverly made extra of the casserole, and we had that however with a different salad. She loves cherries so I made a lettuce salad with cherries and a delicious dressing, and cherry clafoutis for dessert. Google those as they’re easy to make and delicious.

Elsa and Marie came for lunch on separate occasions and those are largely stress-free events as they happen so frequently. Then I made a new friend, and this was my junior high school friend, Bobbi’s widower, named Chad. He came for lunch, and I made us butter chicken, then he came to Osoyoos a few days later where we scattered some of her ashes.

Mom’s peaches, Glo Havens, are ripening in Osoyoos and they’re one of the nicest varieties around. She has 19 trees on her property so that’s a lot of compote, jam and pie. I was just there for my usual visit and picked around 25 pounds and want to return for more, but how when my nerves are shot from the drive as it is, so adding in an extra trip isn’t a good feeling.

Here’s another weird feeling. I now weigh 5 pounds less than I did when I got married 40 years ago. So the other day when I was cleaning out old stuff, I found my wedding dress and noticed it was a size 11. Should be perfect, right? I unzipped it and pulled it up over my hips and slid my arms into the sleeves then reached around to pull up the zipper.

Well. Do you know I’d need an extra foot of fabric to close it? How is this possible? I weigh less, yet can’t get even get close to zipping a dress I actually wore comfortably when I weighted more. I failed physics, you know, and this is another puzzle for me to ponder. I took it off, folded it and returned it to the trunk, to be tried on again in twenty years, I guess.

The other night while aimlessly scrolling through You Tube wondering what to watch, I saw Sumo Wrestling championships in Nagoya Japan. I thought what the hell, you can only watch so many plane crash and people slipping and falling shows, so clicked on that, and found out I just adore it. It’s so quick I’d hate to be there in person as you really need the slow mo replays to fully enjoy it.

What you get are two lard-filled behemoths crashing into each with such force their thigh fat ripples. At other times it’s like Bugs Bunny and the charging bull, he just steps aside, and pa-wang the bull hits an anvil. In this case a cagey wrestler steps aside at the right moment and his opponent steps out of the ring. End of match.

The other day I dyed my hair the colour of your standard mouse. Getting the Miss Clairol mix just right is hard, and see above, physics wasn’t really my thing. I guess this is more like chemistry as I mix two colours together, but now that I think of it, I failed chemistry as well. I’m not a math/science student by any stretch of the imagination.

But if you want a nice lunch made while reminiscing about your significant other, I’m ace at that.

You Have to Love Pets

Jul24

I had a rodent-filled couple of days thanks to the tuxedo cats. A few nights ago, I heard one of the cats coming into the house through the pet door, making their distinctive very loud meowing that denotes they have prey. I got up and closed my bedroom door and got back into bed. As I was trying to get back to sleep, I heard Frieda fooling around, her nails clicking on the wood floor, and so I got up grabbed the dog, gave her a couple of slaps and threw her into her bed.

Frieda then remained a good dog in her bed until I woke up, giving both dogs permission to leave their beds, and as soon as they did, they started mad hunting behaviours in my room. Being dachshunds, they hate to waste energy on nonsense so when that hunting instinct hits, I know there’s a rodent nearby. I moved a piece of furniture, and a mouse ran out.

I screamed at the dogs, “over here, over here”, but by then the mouse had leapt into the drawer of my night table. I opened it for the dogs, but once again the wily mouse ran out and got into my closet. Frieda then spent the next three hours looking up, so I tried to lift her up high to see if she could get it, and I shook my clothes, thinking maybe it was hiding there, but nothing.

The next day I noticed something pink on my closet floor and peering closely I saw it was a baby mouse. Then I saw two more of them scattered about. I guess that was a pregnant rodent? No further sign of the mother, but I had to deal with the most disgusting hairless miscreants. Barf!

The following morning when we got up the dogs did the barking, scratching, panting at the chest of drawers in the entrance hall, so once again, I thought here we go, another mouse. I moved a corner and suddenly a rat ran out of the other end. I screamed at Louie “Sic Sic Sic!” and at that moment Louie turned, and the rat ran right into him whereby he shook it and bam, dead rat.

I just got back from Osoyoos where it was Frieda’s turn to vomit all over the place. Two weeks ago it was Louie, but this time it was Frieda. She’d spent hours scratching under the peach trees looking for mice so perhaps had found some and ate one that’d gone bad. You know a rogue mouse. First, she threw up in the night on the newly washed bedspread from the puke-out of Louie’s two weeks earlier.

Then all day yesterday she continued to throw up every few hours, and curiously only liked to do it on mom’s Persian area carpets. These aren’t the kind I would buy, you know the $300 jobs made from polyester, but the properly woven variety that cost thousands of dollars. Oopsies.

Have you heard of Folex carpet cleaner? It really works. I spent quite a lot of time with it yesterday and this morning, and can vouch for it being largely successful, though I have to say bile is a killer. Let’s just say we’ll always remember this visit when we look at those carpets.

It’s a good thing mom’s as far gone as she is, as those carpets were her pride and joy. But she’s now largely returning to babyhood, where she eats and naps, eats and naps. She says hilarious things like “I went downstairs to check on the furnace” to which I reply, “No, you didn’t.” She says, “But how do you know that I didn’t?” and I reply, “Because you can’t even stand up to walk from here to the bathroom.”

So between the pets and mom, not to mention Luke, there’s always some form of nerve erosion going on.