The Best Laid Plans

Ever notice the more you look forward to something, the more likely it is something will happen to throw a screw into the works?

For a full week before I left for my Camino, I don't know if I had a bug or if it was nerves that were making me feel so nauseous.  Lasted pretty much until the day I started walking.  

When the kid came home from her European travels in October, she brought a nasty, persistent cough with her.  I managed to steer clear of picking it up for three weeks.  Right up until the day we left for our little Seattle sojourn. Then I got it with a vengeance, along with a wicked sore throat.  I soldiered through but it really took a bit of the shine off the trip.

But nothing was going to ruin our planned post Christmas trip, my gift to the kid and my mum.  Three nights, December 26th - 29th, at the beautiful Crystal Cove Resort at McKenzie Beach on the west coast of the Island.  I'd booked it back in July because there was no way, no how I was doing the usual Christmas schtick another year.  Enough with the presents and the tree and the decorations and the turkey.  This year I'd be lounging in the hot tub, strolling the beach rain or shine, sipping wine by the fire.  I was so so so looking forward to it.  Yup, shouldn't have done that.

December 26 I wake up with a sore foot.  Nothing unusual in that.  I get this thing I call my 'foot pain' every now and then.  On the inside of my right foot, right on the bone above the arch.  99.9% of the time I can walk it off.  This happened to be the .1% time, forcing me to walk on the outside edge of my foot.  No biggie, I can deal.

We drove through a winter wonderland to arrive in pouring rain in Tofino.  You haven't seen rain until you've seen it bucket down on the west coast.  The wind picked up.  Surf crashed on the beach.  People pay good money to spend time at the coast during storm season.  And what would make that foot feel better than a nice soak in the hot tub before bed.  Umm...not a nice soak in the hot tub before bed?  I paid the price all night.  It ached, it throbbed, it swelled.  By morning my toes looked like stuffed sausages on the end of my foot.  Guess this was one of those ice, not heat, injuries.

I googled foot pain diagrams. I've had plantar fasciitis and this wasn't it.  Best guess? Something involving a tendon.  Posterior Tibial Tendon Tendonitis seemed to fit the bill. Treatment?  Ice.  Uh, yeah, I figured as much. And ibubrofen.  I always carry ibuprofen in my purse.  Except I didn't bring my purse.  Neither did the kid.  Or my mother who kept saying, 'we should go home.'  Did she know how much I'd paid for this retreat?  There was no freakin' way I was going home. To top it off it was Sunday.  Not much open on a Sunday.  So I hobbled on the beach, soaked in the hot tub with my foot hanging out the side, and drank wine.  And more wine.  After two nights of serious pain, I toodled into town and went to the pharmacy.  It seemed like mere minutes after taking an extra strength Advil Liquid Gel that the pain waned, the swelling deflated and I could walk like a semi-normal person.  At least I'd have one day and night without contemplating loping it off while I split firewood.

If there's a bright side -- and there always is -- I learned this.  It forced me to slow down and appreciate everything around me.  I was suddenly walking as slow as my 87 year old mother without getting frustrated by her pace.  I learned that I should keep ibuprofen on my person at all times.
    My plan had been to go to the doctor as soon as I got home.  That didn't happen post-holidays.  And it was no longer Emergency Department worthy.  Isn't that always the way?  By the time you get into the doctor, the problem has resolved itself -- until the next time it crops up and the vicious circle begins anew.

And now I'm thinking about my upcoming trip to the UK...the 160 km walk on the Cotswold Way...all the tours we have booked...

And I'm not looking forward to it at all.

Nope, not one little bit.


Book Reviews:  Didn't realize I'd gotten so far behind.  Descent by Tim Johnston came highly recommended to me personally.  The kind of book that my book club had me pegged for.  There was much to like, especially in the climax and ending, but the lead up dragged a little for my liking.

Michael Connelly writes two series, one featuring LA cop Harry Bosch, the other Lincoln Lawyer Mickey Haller.  He puts the two characters together in his latest, The Crossing.  Another good read in a long line from Connelly.

December's book club selection was Savage Harvest:  A Tale of Cannibals, Colonialism, and Michael Rockefeller's Tragic Quest for Primitive Art by Carl Hoffman.  It didn't go over big with the club.  Except for me.  I couldn't put it down.  Fascinating stuff.

I picked up YA novel Etiquette & Espionage by Gail Carriger because a young girl I know writes a book review column in our local weekly rag.  She made it so sound intriguing I just had to read it.  And I'd always wanted to check out the steampunk genre.  It didn't grab me at first, but once I tuned my ear to Carriger's tongue in cheek style, it was a pretty good read.  Might even pick up the next one in the series.

She's a prolific writer but I've never picked up anything by Karin Slaughter until Pretty Girls.  I would have liked to have read this one in a shorter time frame to keep the tension going but as these things go it was rather spread out over a couple of weeks.  Definitely a book where one's credulity is strained but it was a decent read with some pretty graphically disgusting descriptions.

There's A Big OUCH Coming

I'm the first to admit it -- I don't understand economics.  Except for balancing my budget and cheque book.  I kick ass at that.  I'm talking about world economics.  The things that happen that cause one country's currency to be valued more highly than another country's currency.  I've even googled it. And frankly, I still don't get it.  

Take Canada for instance.  We're a pretty stable first world country.  We weathered the recession of 2008 better than most.  It even says so on Wikipedia.  And if you can't believe Wikipedia, who can you believe?  It says our dollar is "popular with central banks" apparently due to our "relative economic soundness" as well as our stable "legal and political systems."  

And yet our dollar is worth shit.  I know.  Because every day I check it's value against the Euro and the British Pound (GBP).  Waiting, waiting, waiting to see if it will inch up even a teeny, tiny bit.  I was fully prepared for our dollar to tank when we changed our government this past month.  Of course it could also have done the opposite and soared but nope, it didn't do either.  It just keeps meandering along at about $0.75 compared to the US dollar.  We haven't been worth more than the US buck since 2007 and it had been 30 years before that since we'd achieved that status.  Sure, it didn't last out the year, but it shows it's possible.  I'm just not betting there will be a repeat before I have to shell out my hard earned loonies and toonies for Euros and British Pounds.

As it stands right now the value of the Canadian dollar $1.42 Euro and $2.01 GBP.  But of course that's not the exchange rate.  For example...I booked a tour on line with my credit card and when the bill came in the exchange rate was damn near $2.10.  That's what I call a big OUCH.  So when saving for a trip these days you really have to save double just to cover the cost of exchange.  

And it's not like the prices go down to offset the exchange rate.  Take for example our recent foray into the US -- a $5 latte at Starbucks is still $5. Making that latte about $6.75  Because even though our dollar is worth about $0.75, when you do the conversion it is C$1.00 to US$1.34.  Never been a whiz at math, but I don't get it.    

But enough belly aching.  I'm lucky I'm in a position to travel at all.  And once the money is exchanged I stop converting in my head just how much things are really costing.  Well, I try to anyway.  And because we will be booking and paying for the majority of our tours ahead of the actual trip, the ouch will be much less come trip time.  Unless of course things go for a shit and our dollar tanks.

'Cause that never happens...right?

Book Reviews:  A couple of disappointing YA reads.  Dumplin' by Julie Murphy was highly predictable and read much younger than YA despite the main characters being 17 year old high school students.  

Library of Souls by Ransom Riggs is the third and final instalment in the Miss Peregrine's Home for Peculiar Children series.  After loving the first one, being so-so on the second, if this wasn't the last in the series I wouldn't be reading another.  Love the premise of mixing in the vintage photos but this book didn't really get going until well over half way in.  Bogged down by endless description, if I hadn't been invested in the whole series I would have put it aside.  As it was it took me two weeks to read and I really had to force myself to pick it up.  

 

It's All Just Talk Until The Ticket Is Bought

"One day you will wake up and there won't be any more time 

to do the things you've always wanted.  Do it now."

- Paulo Coelho

We all know them.  The people who talk about doing stuff and then never seem to.  They never get around to it, or the timing isn't right, or something else comes up, or any of the other myriad excuses.  When it came to my camino, I didn't want to be that person.  I'd talked about doing it for two years so not going was not an option.  Once the flight was booked, I was locked in. There was no going back.

Same for the upcoming UK extravaganza.  I could talk about going all I wanted but it was time to seal the deal and hit PURCHASE on the Air Canada site.  Ordinarily I go to a travel agent.  Usually I'm booking a package, like a trip to Disney including air, hotel and tickets.  For some reason I just feel more confident letting them hit the button.  But hey, this was just a flight and there was a seat sale.  A seat sale that I have since found out can last mere seconds on line.  Trust me, they can disappear that fast.  I know.  It happened to me.  Twice.

So I checked my dates and times, my departure and arrival airports.  Twice. Three times.  Okay, maybe four or five times before I hit BOOK THIS.  And then I checked it all again -- because even the best editors and proofreaders miss stuff -- before hitting the all important PURCHASE button.  Don't know why, but that part freaks me out just a little bit.  And that could be the reason some people just talk about doing stuff.  Fear of commitment.  Fear of fucking up.

Talk is cheap.  Airline tickets are not.  But I'm pretty sure I got a good price. At least I'm happy with the price I got.  It was several hundred dollars cheaper than the amount I'd budgeted.  But I always highball so when I get something for less I feel like I've got a good deal.  Mind games.

It's only just a shade over five months away.  Seems so much longer but that's probably because I still have to say I'm going next year.  But in less than two months it'll be this year.  Going on the Camino was exciting but I was also scared shitless.  I am beyond excited for this trip.  The line up for our itinerary is amazing and I want to share it all now.  But I also don't want to ruin the fun of blogging about it as it happens. 

And so the ticket is bought -- it's not all just talk.


Book Reviews:  A departure from my usual reading genres, The Illegal by Lawrence Hill is the story of Keita, a marathon runner fleeing the corrupt murderous government in his fictional homeland, Zantoroland, to live and run illegally in the fictional country of Freedom State.  It seemed a very timely tale given the current situation with refugees fleeing Syria, but I'm sure any of them would be happy to trade places with Keita.  He just didn't seem to have it that rough, comparatively speaking.  Regardless, I enjoyed the book (although not nearly as much as Hill's previous novel, The Book of Negroes), especially the character of enterprising young John Falconer.  The ending, however, was so wrapped up in a feel good great big bow that I felt ripped off.

I finally got The Last Town, the final book in the Wayward Pines trilogy by Blake Crouch.  (The first two are Pines and Wayward.)  I haven't reviewed any of them as I wanted to wait until I'd finished reading the series.  The mistake I made was watching the series on TV whilst reading the first two. While generally sticking to the story line, the televised version differed somewhat -- as they all do (just don't get me started on Under the Dome) -- and things started to get confused in my poor little brain.  I'm happy I read the finale long after the show finished.  It was definitely the best of three and the ending was major kick-ass.  I love it when the ending of a book (or trilogy) surpasses my greatest expectations.

 

Persistence Pays Off

When it comes to technology I'm a luddite. But I'm also a Capricorn -- patient, resourceful, determined, perseverant, stubborn.  And if there was a way to find the photos on my iPad to link them to my blog, I was bloody gonna do it.  And I did.  So without further ado, some Seattle highlights...

Crossing the Strait of Juan de Fuca

NOT inside the original Starbucks

   

    The Original

    

       The infamous "Gum Wall"

The World's largest collection of DNA?

So there ya have it. I have conquered the Blogger photo link problems. Only one question remains...

What are the chances I'll remember it?

Check, Check, and Check

On a recent short sojourn to Seattle I had every intention to post a little something to this blog, mostly to see how it's going to work out during the Green Jar trip to the UK in the spring.  I've always parked myself at the desk top to write the blog but I'll be working off the iPad when I travel.  At this point you've realized there's an except coming...and here it is.  Except someone (who shall remain nameless, but wasn't me) left the power cord for my iPad attached to my iPod in the glove box of the car.  And the iPad was low on juice.  Now you may be thinking...'hmmm...whose iPad and whose iPod?' And you'd be right.  But the rule is -- passenger in the car contols the tunes and is ultimately responsible for bringing the damn cord.

If I had been able to post this while away, I would have told you that the reason for the trip was the kid's 21st birthday.  I would have told you that we took the Clipper, a passenger ferry, from Victoria to downtown Seattle, a crossing that takes almost 3 hours.  In order to have one full day in Seattle we took the only ferry over at 5:00 p.m. on a Wednesday and returned on the only ferry back at 8:00 a.m. on the Friday.  With luck our one full day on the Thursday turned out to be as close to perfect as weather gets in late October on the west coast. Sunny and warm.  No coat weather.  Sit on the outside patio for a cold pint weather.

Besides the aforementioned birthday, the trip served yet another purpose -- to cross a few items off the kid's bucket list.

Item #1 -- Coffee at the original Starbucks at Pike's Place Market.  We toodled down to the market about 9:00 a.m.  Enroute we passed a gazillion other Starbucks.  In the land where Starbucks was born, it has bred like rabbits.  At least one on each city block.  And let's face it, you've been to one, you've pretty much been to them all.  Except for the one on the corner by the market. It had a huge comfortable seating area and the decor was rustic, from the rough wooden pillars to the cracked cement floor to the burlap coffee bags adorning one wall.  We sat at the bar by the window, sipping our overpriced lattes, and snapped a few pics for posterity.  The original Starbucks was worth seeing after all.  Until we walked further down the street and found the original original Starbucks.  'Thought that other one was the original,' I said to the kid. 'I thought you knew where we were going,' the kid replied. 'Hey, it's not my bucket list,' I pointed out.  More coffee and photos later...  Oh, and the original Starbucks?  A tiny hole in the wall, a pick up your coffee and go kind of place. No seating.  And the decor consists mainly of cardboard boxes of product piled to the ceiling.   Item #1 -- Check.

Item #2 -- The Gum Wall.  Haven't heard of it?  Me either.  And it's not exactly as advertised. It is not a wall covered with used chewing gum.  It's damn near the whole frickin' alley.  Really.  Layer upon layer of chewed gum stuck to the walls as high as the tallest among us can reach.  Apparently it's in the top five germiest tourist attractions in the world, second only to the Blarney Stone.  I guess it only merits second place because you don't have to kiss it. Either way, it's disgusting.  Item #2 -- Check.

Item #3 -- Visit 15 countries in 2015.  Australia, Bali, England, France, Spain, Monaco, Italy, Vatican City, Austria, Germany, Switzerland, Lichtenstein, Belgium, Holland.  Fourteen countries down, one to go, and flat out broke. What's a girl to do?  How about a quick trip to Seattle courtesy of Mumsy? USA = 15.  Item #3 -- Check.

Now you'd think that a couple of these things would merit a photo or two. And you'd be right.  That's why I did the dork thing, hauling out my iPad to snap a few, much to the horror of the kid, I might add.  I had my camera, I had my phone.  You know, the discrete options.  But knowing I'd be writing this on the iPad I figured it would be easier access to link the pics.  You'd think, eh? Except I can't figure out that part.  Rest assured though, when I do, you'll get to see the gum wall in all its glory.

And here's a little something I didn't know.  Apparently when your birthdate and age are the same number it's called your champagne birthday.  The kid lucked in.  She was 21 on the 21st.  And yes, we drank bubbly, a beautiful bottle I brought back from Italy two years ago and was saving for a special occasion.  Figured this one qualified.

But what about those of us who got ripped off for our champagne birthday? I mean, my birthday is on the 9th.  Pretty much anyone under the age of 16 gets screwed.  So today I got to thinking, those of us who missed out should be able to substitute our birth year.  For instance, I'm 1958. And then I got to thinking, 'Damn! I missed out by one lousy year.'

Before clueing in that I'm still only 57.  Duh.


Book Reviews:  I was so excited for our October book club selection -- The Magicians by Lev Grossman.  The first of a trilogy, I was prepared to order the next two before even cracking the cover on the first.  Won't be happening. There was nothing magical about The Magicians.  Populated by hedonistic, self involved, morose characters, the story lacked tension and was just plain boring.  And just so you know, of the members of the book club that actually managed to finish it, the majority had much the same opinion as I did.

Memory Man by David Baldacci was a perfectly acceptable quick read mystery.  As fans of the genre know, authors definitely have to take some liberties, especially when writing a police procedural.  If you take this one on, prepare to have your credulity stretched to the limit.

Another “Way"

What started out as two weeks in the UK in the spring has morphed into four and a half.  It's really going to be like two holidays in one trip.

Some background...

On the Camino, if you're lucky, if the stars are aligned, if you're open to the possibilities, you meet your people.  The ones who are meant to make the journey with you.  Oh sure, you meet lots of people, almost impossible not to. Some you might walk with for a day or a few hours, some you share a meal with, maybe even a room.  Some you can't wait to leave in the dust.  But the ones that come into your life and stay are the people you are meant to meet. I was fortunate indeed to meet eight people with whom I've kept in touch, but six of them became my crew.  Of these people four live in the UK, the other two in Denmark.  And on the Camino, age means diddly squat.  I was the only single in our group of seven.  Two were a married couple a few years older than me (hereinafter referred to as P&A), the two girls from Denmark were 18 year old cousins, and the two British lads who led us all astray every chance they got were 28.

So of course when the idea of visiting the UK was being tossed around with a friend I contacted my Camino crew.  Perhaps we could get together?  I could come over a day or two before my friends.  No sooner had the suggestion been made and P&A told me they would collect me at the airport, I would stay with them, and really, only two days?  I must stay longer.  Not wanting to impose or wear out my welcome (being the polite Canadian that I am) I put it to them.  How long did they think?  Well, that depends on what was I wanting to do?  Day tripping in their area?  Some local day hikes?  A multi day walk? Ohhhh....now that sounds interesting.  We could go for a long walk, 'cause hey, that's what we do.

Of the many available, we have chosen The Cotswold Way.  Approximately 160 km through "pretty England" commencing in Chipping Campden and ending in Bath over 7days / 8nights.  And this isn't going to be any "up before the birds on the trail in the dark slug it out to find a bed in a grimy albergue" kind of walk.  Been there, done that, got the compostela to prove it.  This is a highly civilized stroll through the English countryside with pre-booked beds in B&B's, pubs or inns waiting at the end of each day.  Oh, and they transport your luggage so all you have to carry is a day pack.  Sounds positively decadent.  Sadly the lads can't join us.  Work and all that.  So after the walk we're hoping for a weekend reunion at P&A's -- followed by several days of recovery.

And then it will be off to meet my Canadian crew for The UK - Part 2.

P.S. -- As an aside, today I learned how to make the opening quotes in my title curl the right way...alt + [

Who knew?

Book Reviews:  They came highly recommended by Stephen King so I just finished a trilogy by Carsten Stroud -- Niceville, The Homecoming, and The Reckoning.  Luckily they were all readily available from the library so I read them one right after the other.  Yeah, by the end, it was a bit much but had I spaced them out between other books I would have been hard pressed to remember what the hell was going on.  Because there was a lot going on. When I finished Niceville I wished I had made a list of the various story lines and characters.  It was hard to keep them all straight. But Stroud did a really nice job tying it all together in The Homecoming.  A nice review for those coming back to it after a while, but also a nice way for the overwhelmed reader from Book 1 to get it all straightened out.  I enjoyed these books, loved some of the characters, even the ones who did some pretty heinous things, but I can't say I would rave about them.  Sorry, Steve.

First Things First

Before I even get to the details for my next walk I have to get this out of my system.  Here it is -- my rant on excessive consumerism and our throwaway society.

Pictured here on the right, my hiking boots that I wore on the Camino.  On the left, my new boots that I'm currently breaking in.  What is wrong with this picture?

Both pairs of boots are the same make -- Vasque.  Both have Vibram soles. I wore the boots on the right for 18 months before walking in excess of 800 kms on the Camino.  You'll notice the heel is worn down to the underlying plastic and the treads on the sole are flattening out.  You'll also notice that the top, the boot part, is in perfect condition.  No splits, no rips, no holes. They are comfortable and perfectly formed to my feet.  But they don't have enough left on the soles to carry me on another walk.  No problemo -- I'll get them resoled.  Right?

Wrong.

First off, in my smallish city, there used to be a shoe repair.  Used to be.  Old guy owned the place.  And I used to take stuff in to him, small stuff mostly. Heels needing replacing, leather stitching on sandals or purses.  I asked him once what was going to happen when he retired and he got kind of snarly and said young people just don't want to learn the business these days so it would just close.  And that's exactly what happened.  But then some younger guy did open a shoe repair.  I took a few small things to him and he'd fix them on the spot, no charge.  I told him he needed to charge for the small stuff or he wouldn't stay in business long.  He didn't.  Stay in business long that is.

So now I need to find a place to resole my boots.  And I traveled far and wide to find these guys.  First place told me they couldn't do it, the boots weren't designed to be resoled.  Next place was a combination shoe repair / blacksmith.  Guy like that should be able to do something as simple as putting a new sole on a boot.  Yeah maybe hobnail boots from a bygone era. Not so my Vasques.  They weren't designed to be resoled.  Third place, same thing.  They weren't designed to be resoled.

Built in obsolescence.  It's just cheaper now to toss something and replace it than it is to fix it.  Because we are a consumer driven society.  If we repaired things instead of buying new the economy would be in the tank in no time. And that drives me bug shit.  Don't even get me started on electronics and technology.

So maybe old Mr Shoe Repair guy wasn't right after all.  Maybe it's not that young people don't want to learn the craft of shoe repair, but that shoes are no longer designed to be repaired.

And because of that I have to go through the whole blister phase all over again.

Moving On

There really is no good way to segue from my last posts so here's another book catch-up before I move on.

I cannot imagine not being a reader.  I mean, what do people do who don't read?  Waiting in the doctor's office...relaxing with a coffee...instead of TV. Especially people who travel.  Long hours in airports, on planes.  I simply cannot imagine doing any of these things without a book.  Of course the opposite also holds true and I put a lot of things that need doing on the back burner when I've got a really good book on the go.  So here's what I read over the last few weeks...

The Quiet Game - Greg Iles:  Not that it's always necessary but if possible I like to start a series at the beginning, even if each novel can be read as a stand alone.  I like to grow with the character as the author develops him. Iles' protagonist is Penn Cage (cool name), a lawyer turned novelist.  At least Iles is not a former lawyer turned novelist as so many of the "best sellers" are.  I enjoyed this book even though I found it a little long, a little heavy on description, and my biggest beef when reading anyone -- the sexual relationship that gets off the ground way too fast.  But I'll definitely be reading book 2 in the series if for no other reason than I bought it at a book sale and it's been sitting on the shelf for a couple of years.

Go Set A Watchman - Harper Lee:  Poor Harper Lee.  Did she really want to publish this book?  Was she taken advantage of?  Inquiring minds want to know.  This book does nothing for her legacy.  There was no story here although there were a few interesting sections on racism.  I read it out of sheer curiosity, but will now blank it from my mind and remember the characters as they were in To Kill A Mockingbird.

Day Four - Sarah Lotz:  I think I will be adding Lotz to my list of "gotta read" authors.  This one is set on a cruise ship that looses power on day four.  And then bad things start to happen.  I don't want to spoil the fun so I'll leave it at that.  Except to say I could smell the sewage while I was reading.  The ending definitely won't appeal to some -- you "tie it all up with a big bow" readers have been warned.  And if you like to cruise?  Well, this book might make ya think twice about signing up for your next one. 

Before I Wake:  Robert J Wiersema:  Our September book club selection.  I kind of don't know how I feel about this book.  Not being a religious person, I found the symbolism and religious elements a little heavy handed.  I enjoyed the writing style as it told the story from various first person perspectives in short bursts which definitely kept me turning the pages.  I'm really looking forward to the discussion at the end of the month for this one.  Should be lively.  

Angels Flight - Michael Connelly:  Catching up on an early Harry Bosch novel.  Have I said before that IMHO Connelly is the best there is writing in this genre?  Which is a bit surprising to me because I find Bosch to be a pretty arrogant guy, the kind of cop that used to make me feel about an inch high when I was doing the job.

Next up?

There's a new walk afoot.

      

Lessons On Living

"If there is no heaven for dogs, 
then I want to go where they go when I die."

-Anonymous

I feel obligated to end the story even though there was ever only one possible ending.  In the end we had 17 days together.  Seventeen days. From diagnosis to saying goodbye.  Seventeen days.

I'm not a fan of the saying, "live each day like it's your last."  I get the idea, but think about putting that into practice.  Seriously, you'd get nothing done. Would you go to work?  Clean the house?  Watch TV?  Read a book? Exercise?  Say no to the triple scoop cone?  I honestly have no idea what I would do if it was my last day on planet Earth.

But here I was faced with every day possibly being Sally's last day.  And I did right by her.  She was never alone.  She was walked when she wanted to walk and carried when she couldn't walk any more.  She was fed whatever she wanted until food held no interest for her.  She was told, "I love you" at least a bazillion times each day.  And then on that last day I did the kindest thing I could do for her.  I took her to the vet and held her while she went to sleep forever.

Maybe that's the way to live each day like it's the last.  Maybe it's just that simple.  Hug your dog.  Be kind.  Love and be loved.

Sally was loved.

    

Her Name Is Sally

I'm watching my dog.  The way she breathes.  The little paw twitches as she runs in her sleep.  Chasing rabbits no doubt.  I'm looking for anything different.  Anything that will support what the vet told me six days ago.  That she has days or weeks to live.  I just can't get my head around that.  She seems so...well...normal.

But she's been diagnosed with hemangiosarcoma, a rapidly growing, highly invasive type of cancer in dogs.  It has already metastasized.  An ultrasound revealed tumours on her spleen, liver, and the lymph nodes around her kidneys.  There is no treatment.  Most cases of visceral hemangiosarcoma are only diagnosed after the dog collapses or bleeds out internally.  In our case she lost her appetite.  But it was June and we were having a major heat wave.  Who wants to eat much when it's 35 degrees C day after day?  She was never a food whore anyway so the on and off eating thing wasn't a major concern.  There were still days when she would wolf it down.  And then on the day she was scheduled for her annual physical I found a large lump on her back, so big it filled the palm of my cupped hand.  The vet found another small lump in her neck.  Blood tests followed.  The lumps were aspirated.  Urine analyzed.  She's anemic but still producing red blood cells. There must be an internal bleed.  And that spells tumour.  The ultrasound confirmed our worst fears.

Her name is Sally.  I adopted her from the SPCA 9 years ago when she was about 6 months old.  We named her Sally after the Sally in The Nightmare Before Christmas.  Two little ragamuffin girls.  She is a sweet, gentle soul. There is no one who has met Sally that does not love her.  Including cats. When we walk down the farm road there are cats who will run from me but press their noses up to hers.  Until she turns and runs that is.  Bunnies do not enjoy the same reaction. Those, she chases.

And so here I sit watching my ticking time bomb of a dog.  As the days close in on a week, time grows ever shorter.  The tumour could burst at any time.  I am afraid to leave her alone in case I pick the wrong moment to run out to the grocery store.  When I have an obligation I can't put off, the anxiety of thinking of her at home gives me the shakes.  Thankfully Sally's "other mother" lives next door.  You know you are blessed when you have people willing to do anything for your dog.  Anytime.

We are spending our final days together sitting quietly.  She sleeps, I read. No house cleaning, no yard work.  There will be time enough for that.  We go for walks, just a little slower than we did before.  The end must be getting closer because I can feel all the bones in her back and shoulders and rump. Even though she has embraced her inner carnivore and happily eats the meat we now cook for her, she is wasting away.  She must be getting tired of being touched and kissed and cuddled.  I wake up throughout the night to put my hand on the sleeping form beside me, ensuring she is still warm, still breathing.

Sometimes she catches me staring at her and she lifts those brown button eyes to meet mine without lifting her head.  Sometimes she's asking me, "Why do I feel this way?"  But most times she's saying, "It's okay, Mom.  I'm doing fine."  When her times comes, I've asked the universe to take her quickly.  Without pain.

I have enough pain for the both of us.

Oh, The Horror!

It is sooooo much harder to write horror than it is to film it.  Conveying with words what a movie needs music and lighting for, is a true art form.  So it has been with much anticipation that I've begun delving into 50 of the Best Horror Novels as proclaimed by my bookmark that I told you about on May 31.  If you read my post from August 13 you already know how I feel about The Wasp Factory, the book I started with.  After that major disappointment I picked another that had this to say on the back cover....

     Think you know true fear?

Think you've read the most chilling book?

Think you can't be shocked?

Maybe you're ready for the most truly frightening reading experience 
of your life.

If you're a horror fan I bet you're just drooling.  I know I was.  And I had this little gem sitting waiting for me while I slogged through The Wasp Factory. So it was with high hopes and great expectations that I began Dan Simmons' Song of Kali.  Did it live up to the hype, the hoopla, the high praise?  Sadly, no, no and no.  Maybe I missed something.  Maybe the fact that I kept falling asleep while reading it had something to do with that.  There was never any point in the book where I felt true fear, I wasn't shocked, and I didn't feel those little skin prickles up my arms or on the back of my neck.  What a bummer.

If it wasn't for the fact that the ten books I had previously read on the list contained three of my all time favourite scariest books, I wouldn't be going any further. In no particular order...

     The Haunting of Hill House - Shirley Jackson
     The Shining - Stephen King
     Salem's Lot - Stephen King

And not on the bookmark but to round out my all time favourite scary books list, I would have to add...

     Harvest Home - Thomas Tryon
     Heart Shaped Box - Joe Hill

Except there's one more.  And this is where you come in -- there was this book I read back in the early 80's.  If memory serves it was called They Live. It was a vampire book, back before vampires were done to death.  Back in the good old days when vampires were scary blood sucking creatures of the night, not glittery pretty boys.  This book scared the crap out of me.  I would read it in bed at night and then either have to leave a light on or burrow deep under the covers.  It was truly frightening.  And I have no idea who the author was.  I would love love love to find a copy of this book but searching for it by title has proven fruitless.  So if anyone out there knows the name of the author, please please please let me know in the comments.

No prize.  Just my eternal gratitude.

Okay, maybe a clove of garlic or two.

The British Invasion

I was born in 1958 so even though I didn't really come of age musically until the 1970's, I consider the 60's my music.  Two of my all time favourite movies are The Big Chill and Pirate Radio, thanks mainly to their soundtracks.  I remember watching The Beatles on Ed Sullivan and they remain my favourite band to this day.  Everyone had their favourite Beatle and George was my guy.  His was the only "celebrity" death I ever cried over.

So when I heard that the little 265 seat theatre in Chemainus was putting on a production of Twist and Shout:  The British Invasion, well there was no way I was not going to that.  I had no idea what to expect.  Maybe a few bands doing covers from the 60's.  Maybe some Beatles, some Dave Clarke Five, a little Kinks and Hollies.  Well let me tell you, The British Invasion was one rocking good time -- Beatles, Stones, Herman's Hermits, Donovan, Petula Clark, Gerry and the Pacemakers, Dave Clarke Five, Dusty Springfield, Lulu, The Kinks, The Zombies, Peter and Gordon, Manfred Mann, The Searchers, The Hollies, Wayne Fontana and the Mindbenders, Animals, Cilla Black, Procul Harum, and The Spencer Davis Group.  What a line up!  (Whoa...just occurred to me...where were The Who?)  Mick Jagger and Donovan were worth the price of admission alone.

This was all presented in the form of a mock TV show a la Ed Sullivan called The Roy Solomon Show, complete with commercials from the 60's. Remember 'you'll wonder where the yellow went, when you brush your teeth with Pepsodent!'? Fake black and white Philco TV screens flashed facts about the songs -- the date and number reached on the Billboard charts and how long it stayed there -- and the host, Roy Solomon, did comedic magic acts and skits between bands.  I haven't had that much fun at the theatre since...well...ever.

Which brings me full circle to the next GREEN JAR ADVENTURE!  Yup, the Green Jar is planning a British invasion of its own.  UK here we come! Spring 2016.  A feast of all things Harry Potter, Downton Abbey and Beatles.  This will be the first time I've traveled anywhere as an adult with someone other than my kid.  I'll be in the company of two troop mates from our police training days, neither of whom I'll have seen for ten years, and twenty before that.  Potential personality conflicts?  I doubt it.

You just know that anyone who sends out Cownton Abbey postcards to commemorate 230 days (give or take) until departure is going to be a fun time.

Besides, she knows all the best places to drink.

The Pursuit of Happine$$

I think the statement money can't buy happiness is just so much bullshit. How's that for a provocative opening line?  I've been doing a lot of thinking about this lately, mostly while I'm out on my paddle board, mostly to quell the incessant counting of the paddle strokes.  Not that there isn't something kind of soothing and hypnotic about that...one two three four five six switch sides one two three four five six switch sides...but that's a little too OCD for me and when I catch myself doing it my brain yells, "STOP THAT!"

It's pretty easy to think about happiness out there on the SUP -- the sun, the water, the trees, the mountains.  Nature at it's finest.  Yeah, money can't buy that.  But wait.  How did I get to the lake?  In my car of course, the same car I have to pay to insure and put gas in.  And what am I doing on the lake? Well it's my latest and greatest passion.  Stand up paddle boarding. Yeah, I tried it when I went over to Hornby Island and rented a board.  That outing cost a few bucks -- the ferry over, the board rental, gas to get there and back, dinner out.  It was an awesome day.  The kind that makes me happy.  The kind I couldn't indulge in if I didn't have some money.  

And then when I found out there was such a thing as inflatable paddle boards I could actually fit in my little car?  Well, it was a no-brainer.  I zoomed off to my closest Mountain Equipment Co-op.  The closest one being three hours away.  And I bought a couple of those boards.  Paddles too.  The second board was for the kid, early birthday present.  It's great.  Something we can do together.  Or I can do alone.  We can even invite a friend out.  

I'm a pretty happy person generally speaking.  But if I had to worry about putting a roof over my head, clothes on my back, or food in my belly, I wonder how happy I'd be.  Now I know there are some people who are unhappy no matter how much they have.  The ones that go out of their way to look for the negative in everything.  They could have a million bucks in the bank and still not be happy.  And sure, conversely there are those without the proverbial pot to piss in who are happy no matter what.  Was I happy before the addition of the boards?  Yeah, I was.  Am I happier now that I have them?  You better believe it.  I guess my point is, unless you are totally happy rooted in one spot, you pretty much have to have money to get out there to do anything.  So maybe money really can't buy happiness but it sure can enhance it.  

There is one thing I'll agree with though -- Money can't buy you love.  

'Cause if you're paying for it, it ain't love.

Book Reviews:  Wayward by Blake Crouch is the second in the trilogy.  Still waiting for number three before I impart my thoughts.

Second Life is the second novel by SJ Watson.  I picked up her first (Before I Go To Sleep) in Spain to alleviate my reading withdrawal and it was just okay.  Billed as a thriller, the first half of Second Life read like mild erotica and it took way too long to set the scene.  The only saving grace was the ending, which leaves the reader to make up her own mind (no tidy bow on it.) Don't think I'd read another by this author.

The Concrete Blonde and Trunk Music are two of Michael Connelly's earlier novels featuring Harry Bosch that I hadn't yet read.  Neither disappointed. To my mind there is no one writing in the police procedural mystery category to even come close to Connelly.  He is the Stephen King of that genre for me.

Critics say The Girl On The Train by Paula Hawkins will appeal to fans of Gone Girl.  The problem is just about every novel of that ilk is now compared to Gone Girl.  I enjoyed this book, especially Hawkins' portrayal of the alcoholic protagonist.  She nailed that.  Kind of made me never want to drink again though.  But I'm sure I'll get over it.

Remember my book mark listing the 50 Best Horror Novels?  And I said I was going to start reading the ones I hadn't read?  I started with Iain Banks' The Wasp Factory.  Written in 1984 it was reviewed as a "Gothic horror story of quite exceptional quality."  There were parts I found horrific but it was never horrifying and frankly I would have to call it pure crap.  Don't know why I even finished it except that I rarely don't finish a book I start.  Keep telling myself it's bound to get better.  It didn't.

The Secret to Weight Loss Discovered!

I can't say I've tried them all, but I've suffered through enough weight loss plans to know they work in the short term, not the long.  I've done Atkins, the one with all the grapefruit aptly named the Grapefruit Diet, Bob Greene's Best Life Diet (the one that rocketed to fame thanks to Oprah), and Paul McKenna's I Can Make You Thin involving a daily self hypnosis session. They all worked to some degree before real life re-entered the picture.  I had my best success on Weight Watcher's and Body For Life.  But the problem with any plan is that it's just that -- a plan, with rules and points and measuring and menus.  You shouldn't have to constantly think about food when what you're trying to do is not think about food.

And so I'm about to reveal to you the true secret to weight loss, and it's not just calories in, calories out.  Although that helps too.  Right about now is where most sites would tease you with just enough information to get you totally interested and then -- WHAM!!  You have to pay a fee to buy the book or subscribe to the newsletter.  But not me.  Nope, I'm giving this away for FREE!!  Here it is.  Are you ready?

Buy new jeans.  Yup, it's just that simple.  Allow me to explain.  For months I've been tired of cramming myself into my jeans.  It's like trying to put ten pounds of sugar into a five pound sack.  And once on they produce what we all lovingly refer to as the "muffin top."  See, once again, food related.  Then God forbid when you have to wash the jeans and go through that whole stretching out process again.  So I finally got tired enough of the cramming and the muffin top and the fear of wash day and toodled off to my local Eddie Bauer where I buy all my jeans.  Only to find they had about four pairs on the shelf.  WTF?!  'Oh, it's summer, no one buys jeans in the summer.'  Say what?  Jeans are a year round staple.  Okay, I think, this is a sign.  I'm meant to loose the weight so as to be comfortable in my existing jeans.

Yeah, that didn't happen.

Then I was cruising through the Bay and just happened upon a few racks of jeans and figured, why not?  I'm feeling masochistic, I'll try a few.  Now jeans shopping is second only to bathing suit shopping on the stuff I hate shopping for list.  But it only took about six pairs before I found a pair that fit and felt sublime.  No muffin top, no stretched out thighs, no calf squeeze.  All buttery soft and comfy.  Was this the perfect pair of jeans?  Off to the check out I toodled only to find out they were ON SALE!!  Is there any better feeling than getting a sale price on something you were fully prepared to pay full price for?

I get the jeans home, actually wear them once, and then it happens.  I loose a couple of pounds.  Then a couple more.  And another and another and another.  With no signs of stopping.  Oh sure, the old jeans are somewhat more comfortable now but I want the new ones -- the ones that are now all loose in the waist and saggy in the butt.  Bloody good thing they were on sale.

So there you have it.  Toss those menu plans and quit counting calories. You'll never have to be force fed another grapefruit or bowl of cabbage soup again.  Just buy new jeans.  Results guaranteed or your money back -- on the advice, not the jeans.  And because every diet needs a catchy title...

The Denim Diet.  Tell your friends.

Digging Out From Under

I've figured it out.  The reason why I've been feeling so antsy, so restless, so unsatisfied with things as they currently are.  It's because my creative muse has been neglected.  I have two novels in various stages of completion. Cross stitch projects lying untouched.  Glass waiting to be cut and soldered. And yet I continue to spend time doing all the stuff I don't want to do -- mostly cleaning, organizing, and reorganizing.

The other day after sweeping up detritus from the fir trees, I went looking for the dustpan in the garage. I think I spent close to twenty minutes looking and never did find it, even though I know it's out there.  Somewhere.  And that's when it hit me.  Major changes need to happen.  Back in 2013 I made a new year's resolution to purge my house of crap.  I even blogged about it at Outing My Inner Hoarder for a whole year to keep me accountable.  And it worked.  To a degree.  But in my first entry I wrote, "I'm not going minimalist." Well guess what?  I am now.

I've been reading some minimalist blogs and the idea holds a whole new appeal for me now.  Here's what it boils down to for me:

Don't buy crap you don't need.  Think I've got that one covered.  During my Outing My Inner Hoarder Days I adopted that mindset and have stuck with it.  Pretty much.

Get rid of crap you don't use or like.  And by getting rid of I don't mean putting it in a box to store it.

That's pretty much it.  When I walked the Camino, everything I needed fit into a 28 litre pack on my back.  That was the most freeing experience I've ever had.  I want to feel that way again.  Every day.  So I've registered with one of those online garage sales for my community and plan to start listing some of the bigger stuff.  Maybe an old-fashioned garage sale will follow.  The money will go into the Green Jar.  That's win-win.

It will be a slow process that's for sure.  Time to become ruthless.

But you can call me Ruth, for short.

  

Sweet Surrender

No, I didn't give in and spend the week at the bottom of a bag of cookies or elbow deep in a tub of ice cream.  Not that that wouldn't have been a perfectly lovely way to spend time.  Until the scale reared its ugly head of course.  The sweet surrender I'm talking about here refers to one of my life's greatest passions -- reading.  I know, I just lost a bunch of you.  Reading? Like, seriously?  Like, yeah.  I bet a lot more of you get that than don't.

So big whoop you're probably thinking.  And yeah really, big whoop, I read a book.  But ya wanna know how I typically read?  There's the obligatory get in bed and read a bit before -- or while -- falling asleep.  Not very satisfying when you have to go back and reread what you read while dozing off.  But my main reading comes as reward.  If I clean the bathroom, I can read for 15 minutes or x number of chapters, whichever comes first.  Walk the dog. Read a chapter.  Run errands.  Read until I finish eating lunch.  I dole it out in bite size little chunks.  I'm like Pavlov's dog -- I start salivating when my chore is done.

But this week?  Oh, this week was glorious.  I had in my hot little hands, Finders Keepers, the second of a Stephen King trilogy.  And y'all know how I feel about Steve.  There was no way I was going to fit Steve in between weeding the veggie garden and hanging the laundry on the line.  Nope, no way, no how.  I gave Steve four solid afternoons of doing nothing but reading.  Morning was for dog walking, working out, and whatever else had to be done.  But the afternoons were for me and Steve, guilt free.

And we had a fabulous time together.  Met some new friends, was reacquainted with old ones from Mr. Mercedes.  All of my expectations were met.  Steve's thrillers are every bit as good as his horror novels and definitely better than some.  The only negative?  They end.  I get the book, want to devour it totally, then have to sit back while withdrawal sets in after it's over. Sigh...

My single best reading experience ever?  July 21, 2007.  I was at the store at 8:00 a.m. to pick up my copy of Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows.  I opted not to go to the bookstore at midnight to buy it knowing I wouldn't be able to not read it, and I didn't want the aforementioned fall asleep while reading situation to mar the experience.  On the way home I picked up coffee and donuts from Timmy's and then I literally spent the next 15 hours reading. My mother even made dinner for me and delivered it to my house so I wouldn't have to stop to feed myself.  No, I didn't get it finished in that first day.  It took the next morning as well.  But there was something about the luxury of allowing myself to read it uninterrupted that has stayed with me ever since.

The simple pleasures of life don't get any simpler than that.


Book Review:  The only thing I'll add about Finders Keepers is this -- you definitely have to read Mr. Mercedes first.

   

Thank You, John Lennon

I'm restless.  There are always a million and one things that I could or should be doing.  But when I'm feeling antsy like I have been these past few days, the could be's and the should be's just don't hold any appeal.  So I pick away at things.  And end up doing a whole lot of nothing.  Now there's nothing wrong with doing nothing -- if that's what you decide to set out to do. But deciding to do nothing feels a whole lot better to your psyche than trying to do something and ending up doing nothing.  To those of you who've been there, done that this will make perfect sense.  To those of you scratching your heads wondering just what the hell I'm talking about, I envy you your steady sense of purpose.

I've been thinking a lot lately of all the things I want to do, all the things gradually making their way onto my Bucket List (and silently bemoaning all the money I'm about to spend on shit -- the septic, remember?)  Because let's face it -- if it's on your Bucket List there's a pretty good chance it's going to cost a few bucks.

And then today, as I was busy doing nothing, I got to thinking about one of my favourite sayings -- Life is what happens to you while you are busy making other plans.  This quote is usually attributed to John Lennon as a line from his song Beautiful Boy, but it's been around a whole lot longer than that.  But I like John, so he gets the credit here.  And really, when you stop and think about it, truer words were never spoken.  Most people, if they're lucky and so inclined, get to do something fabulous once, maybe twice a year.  An awesome trip somewhere.  A kick ass concert or sporting event. Whatever floats your boat.  And so for a few weeks every year we are living, I mean really living.  And the rest of the time?  While you wait for the big moment?  That's your life.  And it's not all about the fun stuff.  There's a lot of gotta do's in there with the wanna do's.  It's all about finding your definition of happiness in the stuff of everyday.  Something, I'll admit, I have been neglecting to do of late.

Last year I participated in the 100HappyDays challenge on Facebook along with my friend and good and faithful blog reader, Katrina.  It was pretty simple -- every day we had to post one photo of something that made us happy that day.  Sometimes it was a bit of a stretch finding something in a pretty typical ordinary day.  Or worse, in a crappy day.  I mean one day my happy thing was bacon.  But the point being, by stopping to examine your day from a happy thing mindset, you ended up looking for the good and ignoring the not so good.

So here's what I'm challenging myself to do here on Green Jar Adventures, until the next adventure starts to take shape.  A weekly roundup of life is what happens.  I'll be looking for the stuff that makes my life pretty damn good.

I'll try to make it more interesting than bacon.


Book Reviews:  Our June selection for my book club was Orange Is The New Black by Piper Kerman.  Now I have not seen the Netflix show, but from the comments I've heard about it I expect it can be pretty sexually graphic and physically violent.  And maybe that's why the book disappointed me.  It all seemed a little tame.  Or maybe it's because I come from a law enforcement background and didn't find anything new.  All in all I found it kind of boring.  Sorry.

Until the Night by Canadian writer Giles Blunt is the 6th in his John Cardinal mystery series.  I've read them all.  Enjoyed the first four, wasn't jazzed by the fifth, but he seems back to form in this instalment which was written a couple of years ago.  They are set in the fictional northern Ontario town of Algonquin Bay and winter typically plays a big role.  As long as he keeps writing them, I'll keep reading.

Pines by Blake Crouch is the first of a trilogy.  It is currently being aired as a ten part series called Wayward Pines.  I'm watching and reading at the same time.  When I've finished both, I'll let you know what I think.

You've Got Mail

Remember how exciting it used to be to get something in the mail, besides bills and flyers?  It doesn't matter how far technology advances, getting actual physical mail beats out anything electronic any day of the year.  It was a good week for me at the mailbox.

First up, a card (yes, a real physical card) from a friend containing two fantastically thoughtful gifts.  Number one was a metal luggage tag complete with photos commemorating my Camino.  The reason I can actually photograph the back and front at the same time is because I actually got two.  Fearing the first lost in the mail, the company she ordered it from reissued it and lo and behold, Canada Post came through with both.  Now I have one for my suitcase and one for my backpack.

Thoughtful gift number two was a bookmark.  To a book lover, nothing beats a cool, new bookmark (other than a book, of course.)  This one came all the way from the U. K. and lists 50 of the Best Horror Novels. It opens and has magnets on the inside so it can clip to your page.  The 50 books are listed front, inside, and back.  I've only read 10 on the list so apparently I have some reading to do.  Look for more horror entries into my Book Reviews.  I'll be sure to tag the ones from the list.


The second piece of mail came from The Giving Keys in Los Angeles, California courtesy of my kid down under.  Here's the background: The Giving Keys repurposes old keys into pendants (and other stuff).  You chose the word you want stamped on your key, words like Believe, or Create, or Hope.  Before she went away the kid got one for herself.  She chose the word Courage.  Now here's the deal, this is what it says on their card...Pay It Forward. When you get this key you must give it away at some point to a person you feel needs the message.  Then blog your story at:  TheGivingKeys.com.  We employ those who are transitioning out of homelessness.  It's win win all around.  Check them out.

The word my kid chose to put on the key she gave to me?  Strength.

Sometimes it takes a little time, a lot of distance, and a key to find out what your kid thinks of you.

Book Reviews:  Th1rteen R3asons Why by Jay Asher is a YA novel about a girl who commits suicide.  I didn't expect to have the reaction I did to this book and I'm not sure it was the one the author was after.  Before committing suicide a girl sends a set of cassette tapes to the first person on her list that she blamed for contributing to her decision.  Each person must then forward them on to the next person.  If they don't, she has entrusted a second set to someone to have them made public.  Hopefully I won't be giving too much away to say the reaction I had was anger -- at the girl who killed herself.  I would be very curious to find out how someone in the target age group responded to this novel.

The Light Between Oceans by M.L. Stedman was set just after the first world war at a lighthouse station on an island west of Australia.  This was our book club selection for May and I give it a ten out of ten and two thumbs up.  I had empathy for every single one of the characters even if I didn't agree with their actions or choices.  And for those of you (and you know who you are!) who like their books neatly wrapped up at the end, this one is delivered to you with a great big bow on it!

Not that I've ever watched it, but I would equate reading Big Little Lies by Liane Moriarty to watching an episode of The Real Housewives of Wherever. But I have to admit, it was such a guilty pleasure.  Loved the characters. Loved the little snippets from the minor players that ended each chapter. The book did deal with some heavy themes -- rape, domestic abuse, infidelity -- but there was also an edge of humour in some of those previously mentioned snippets.  What can I say?  I liked it.  And oh yeah, it's a murder mystery.

A Wise Investment

So what's up next for the Green Jar?  Before the Camino, that was the only thing on my "Bucket List." But crossing that one off has apparently opened the flood gates.  I have so many 'wanna do's' and 'gotta do's' and 'would love to do's' on my list that I'm either going to have to rob a bank or win a lottery. Instead, I'm investing in shit.  Literally.  And it's a sad use of good travel money.

Here's what's happening...

My house is about 37, 38 years old.  Home ownership is all about upkeep. And nothing lasts forever.  Things break down, need repairing or replacing.  I started with my trees.  The cedars I planted to replace a fallen fir did not grow into the cedar hedge I was promised.  They're frigging behemoths and had gradually gone from shade for the back deck to overtaking said deck. They needed thinning and my fir trees needed a little limbing up away from the house.  Not a job I could do myself.  Hire tree guy.  Cha Ching.

Next up, the fence.  It was put up when I bought the house 24 years ago.  It's one of those cedar plank things with the lattice top.  Twenty four years is a good run for a fence but it's end has come.  Actually the end came a couple of years ago but I tend to put these things off.  But I could no longer ignore the fact that it was falling to pieces.  I'm pretty sure I can save a few bucks doing it myself.  And it's amazing what you can accomplish with a hammer and a couple of screwdrivers.  Fence down.  I'm only replacing some of it -- the part surrounding the deck and the part between me and one of my neighbours.  You know what they say about fences making good neighbours.  Well in this case it'll take a little more than a fence but for now it's all I got.  I bought new panels -- Cha Ching -- and they've been drying out in the garage for a couple of weeks.  Today I started staining them.  There are fourteen panels.  It takes an hour to stain one side.  You do the math.  Four hours later, two down...

And here's where we get to the shitty part.  I tried -- I really did try -- to ignore that growing wet spot in my yard that started last year.  But it had to be done.  I called in a guy with a bobcat to dig.  Please, please, please, oh please tell me there's only a broken pipe in my septic system. What's that?  No broken pipe?  My entire septic field has out lived its usefulness and needs to be replaced?  What do you mean there are new rules?  Having the tanks under the garage is not allowed anymore?  I have to replace them too if I ever plan to sell the house? And with that Bobcat Guy filled in the massive hole in the yard and with a wave and dollar signs in his eyes told me he'd see me in August or September when the ground dried out.  Cha Ching.

Shit.


Book Review:  If you picked up a book called The Enchanted with golden horses on the cover what kind of book would you expect to be reading? Something fantasy?  Would you expect the story to take place on death row in some horribly run down prison?  Yeah, me neither, although I probably knew that from reading reviews back when I ordered the book from my library many months ago and just plain forgot.  Thoroughly enjoyed this beautifully written novel by Rene Denfeld and I really have no idea why.  The scenes of prison rapes and the violent crimes that put the prisoners there were hinted at but never described in any detail.  I think that made it a little more horrifying.  Not that this was a horrifying novel.  Quite the contrary.  It's kind of hard to explain.  But this is a recommended read.

A Few Final Thoughts

The only regret I now have about my Camino is that I did not take an iPad with me to blog as I went. Contrary to what I was told, the wifi was amazing, even in the smallest of towns.  Especially in the smallest of towns.  There were only a handful of places where it was non-existent and they were usually at the higher elevations.  Note to self:  do not take advice from technologically challenged people -- yeah, you know who you are!  So it's time to wrap up my post-Camino reports.  Oh I may throw the odd one out there if circumstances warrant it, but for now here are a few final thoughts.

Eating on the Camino was definitely not one of the highlights.  Oh I'm sure there is some fabulous cuisine to be had in Spain.  Just not on The Way.  As in most European countries locals eat late.  'Real' restaurants open about 9:00; albergues have a 10:00 curfew.  The two don't jive.  So most places, especially the small towns with one place to eat, offer a pilgrim menu.  And let me tell you, some of those meals put the "grim" in "pilgrim."  But the price was right, typically about 9E for a starter, main course, dessert, plus wine or water.  And by wine I mean 1/2 bottle per person.  Most times the starter was a choice between a mixed salad or a pasta in some kind of weak tomato sauce.  Main was usually roast chicken, pork chops, or fish.  Served with fries.  Every time.  Every single time.  Dessert -- fruit (an apple), yogurt, or ice cream.  The kind in the little plastic cup that used to come with a flat wooden spoon.  You ate to fill a hole and to load up on carbs.  But every now and then you'd hit on something different.

This dessert came at the end of a pretty decent 6E pilgrim meal and it was even better than it looked.  Thin layers of real chocolate in between vanilla ice cream and chocolate sauce.  I'm drooling just writing this....

And then there was the drink...the wine, the beer, the brandy.  I consumed some mighty fine red wines and some of the biggest, cheapest, coldest mugs of beer on the planet.  But it was the jug of Sangria at a small, private albergue in Sansol that stands out in my mind. The bartender made it on the spot:  red wine, fresh cut fruit, orange Fanta, and, what I'm sure was the key ingredient that made it stand out from any other sangria I've ever tasted -- Cointreau!  That it came at the end of a very hot, long day of walking enhanced the taste I'm sure.  That I got to drink it while soaking my feet in a brilliantly cold foot pool, well, that's just heaven on earth.

Did I lose any weight on this journey?  The scale said no.  Mind you there were two weeks of eating, drinking, and not walking 30 km/day in Italy tacked on to the end.  But my clothes said yes.  I could take my shorts off at the end without having to undo them.  I'm kind of happy I didn't come home ten pounds lighter because there would be no way to sustain that.  As much as I enjoy walking, in the real world I just don't have time to walk six or seven hours every day.  But I sure do miss my more toned Camino body.

I had every intention of writing a book about my experience when I returned home.  But it's not going to happen.  I went alone because it was a personal journey.  The best part of the journey, the absolute very best part, was all of the people that I met.  Some I walked with for a few days, some just a few hours.  But I found the people I was meant to be with and we covered much of the journey together.  So the Camino is not my story alone to tell.  As I would never post their photos without their permission, nor would I tell their tales.  So other than the few tidbits that I do share, the journey will remain very much personal.

Did I have any great epiphanies as I walked?  Well, I learned that I don't know the lyrics to very many songs.  Many people walk the Camino while they consider life changing decisions.  I think the big thing I came away with was this:  I've got my shit together and my life is pretty damn good.  You can't ask for more than that.

Unless it's a hamburger the size of your head.  Or a fountain that dispenses wine as well as water.

To all who follow, I wish you a Buen Camino.  May the sunrise always be at your back.

    

Because if it's not, you're going the wrong way.


Book Reviews:  I picked A Sudden Light by Garth Stein because I totally loved his previous novel The Art of Racing in the Rain.  This one, not so much.  A tale of family redemption wrapped in a ghost story.  I'm not a fan of books that impart huge chunks of info during dream sequences.  It was just a so-so read for me.

Laline Paull must have done a huge amount of research to write The Bees, a fictionalized account of life in a beehive.  Her depiction of their actions and behaviours was fascinating.  I'll never be able to look at bees again in the same way, or wasps and spiders for that matter.  Well done.

Show Me The Way

I'm directionally challenged.  If you're giving me directions I need left or right. North, south, east, west?  Means nothing to me.  I don't do too bad in familiar places -- as long as the place is small, I can relate to landmarks. Where I live the river is to the west so everything is in relation to the river. But put me somewhere I've never been and I have no idea which direction I'm facing. Unless it's sunrise or sunset.  At high noon, I'm hopeless.  So how did a directionally challenged girl hope to walk across northern Spain?

Getting off the bus in St Jean Pied de Port, France, I simply followed the rest of the back packs to the pilgrim office.  And for the first part of the Camino that was all I had to do.  There was always a steady stream of pilgrims to assure me I was going the right way.  But as the days passed and the pilgrims started to spread out it wasn't unusual to spend many hours walking without seeing a single other person.  But I'm happy and proud to report that I didn't get lost once, not even a teeny little bit.  Oh, one morning in the total darkness I headed off on my own and decided after about a kilometre that maybe, just maybe, I wasn't on the right path.  I started walking back the way I came until I saw the approaching head lamps confirming I was on the right track after all.

It's really quite impressive how well the Way is marked.  Sure, there are lots of sections where getting lost is simply not an option.  I mean, if this is the view in front and behind you, just where exactly are you going to make a wrong turn?










Big cities were a bit tricky.  You had to keep your eyes down and watch for the brass shells...

There were a lot of "official" markers.  Some old...

...some new...

...and sometimes enterprising pilgrims took matters into their own hands.

But it was the yellow arrow that brought comfort and relief just when you were thinking you must have screwed up somewhere...

The most amazing thing about the yellow arrows?  Someone has to maintain them, make sure they are visible, repainted as needed.  Who does this?  And consider this -- pilgrims rely on these arrows to make their way to Santiago de Compostela.  What's to stop marauding bands of vandals armed with yellow spray paint from wrecking havoc?  I mean, seriously -- what could be more entertaining than watching unsuspecting pilgrims wandering in circles? Ending up in Madrid or Barcelona.

That this doesn't happen, speaks volumes.

Book Review:  I'm sure there is no one, in the reading population at least, who does not know that Robert Galbraith is the pseudonym for JK Rowling of Harry Potter fame.  Being a huge fan of all things Potter, it was a no-brainer that I would read whatever came next.  After being disappointed with The Cuckoo's Calling, the first in the Cormoran Strike series, I was a bit reluctant to read number two, The Silkworm.  But I have to say I enjoyed it much more than the first and Strike is starting to grow on me.  I like that Galbraith has given him a huge handicap to deal with, his having lost a leg in Afghanistan. But the head hopping between the main characters -- sometimes within the same paragraph -- drives me nuts.  And when he/she slips into the omniscient narrator voice?  Well, don't get me started.