Get 'Er Done

Those of you who followed my last blog know that I don't always adhere strictly to the topic at hand.  Sometimes I go off on little mini tangents...like I'm about to here.  And the reason I have to is because I'm feeling pretty pumped right now.

Last spring I met with my "reno dudes" to discuss replacing all of my horrible carpeting with flooring.  We settled on cork (my nod to the environment) and picked the colour.  Now my reno dudes are busy guys.  I told them, "No hurry, put me on your list."  'Cause first I had to paint the entire upstairs level of the house.  I'm not a big fan of painting so I told them they'd need to give me two weeks notice before they showed up, knowing full well it would be months before I made it to the top of their list.

Then we were into the heat of the summer.  No way was I painting in the summer.  Plus I was going to have to hire somebody to paint the front entrance hall which requires scaffolding to reach the top.  And maybe he could change the lightbulbs in the ceiling fan that have been burned out for years but I have no way to reach them.  Oh, and perhaps he could pass a duster while he's up there.

Then there was the matter of the television.  I had the same TV for over twenty years before I invested in a large flat screen -- oh, about a year before the really thin ones came down to the same price that I paid for this behemoth that takes up a fair chunk of my living room.  It takes two very strong men to move this thing, of which I am neither.  So, just how was I going to get it out of my house to a) paint behind it, and b) get it to the recycling centre?

So I hemmed and hawed, thought, "screw the painting" and went to Italy instead.

But today!  Oh, today I had a massive surge of...whatever the opposite of procrastination is.  I bought paint.  I bought hole filler.  I arranged for a guy to paint the entrance...and dust...and replace the lightbulbs.  I bought lightbulbs!  I hired an electrician to come in and update all the light switches and pot lights.  I hired two very strong men to cart the TV to the recycling.  I called my reno dudes.  And they're coming tomorrow to finalize the details.

To what do I owe this new "get 'er done" attitude?  Boot camp.  Yup, that's right.

I've got endorphins pinging and firing all over the place.

Rising Above

I live in a town nestled in a valley surrounded by mountain ranges, at the end of an inlet which empties into the Pacific Ocean.  In 2.5 hours I can be in the provincial capital; in 1.5 hours I can be on a pristine, empty sand beach waxing a surfboard; I'm minutes from my choice of lakes.  Most days it's pretty idyllic.  But during a typical winter the rains can bucket down for days on end and the valley can be socked in with fog so thick it drips from the trees like rain. Mostly us valley folk just stay put and look for signs of clearing, but on the days it gets to be too much it's only a ten minute drive up "the hump" to break out of the fog and into blue skies.

There's also the Look Out, a fairly easy 45 - 50 minute hike.  From the top, on a clear day, the valley is laid out at your feet.  But on days when the Look out is basking under sunshine and blue skies, the valley can be blanketed with a thick layer of fog that is just as spectacular when standing above it.

I hike the Look Out fairly regularly.  The dog loves the freedom of running loose -- even if she does have to endure the dreaded towelling off at the end.  And I need the inclines to get ready for my Camino.  Because the first day of the Camino is the Pyrenees, from all reports a day of strenuous climbing followed by even more strenuous descending.

A day where they separate the men from the boys...the skin from the feet...the knees from the sockets...


Book Review:  Jeffery Deaver is the king of the plot twist.  Just when you think you're getting to the end of one of his books, there's always one more twist.  Sometimes it's one twist too many if you ask me.  The October List starts off with a twist -- the story is told in reverse.  Yep, end to beginning. Took a while to get my head around the story, kept having to look back to get my bearings and to remember who was who in the zoo.  But because so much effort was put into this backward telling, I felt the writing itself suffered. It read kind of like a cheap detective noir novel and the twists at the end (which was really the beginning) weren't all that surprising.  I'm not sure the gimmick paid off.

On Donkeys and Dogs

One of the things I've been doing in preparation for my Camino is reading a lot of books.  I find the ones detailing the author's personal journey far more compelling and entertaining than the ones that focus on history and architecture....zzzzz...  So I was really looking forward to Tim Moore's account in Travels With My Donkey: One Man and His Ass on a Pilgrimage to Santiago.  There were some really humourous bits in his telling including the best version of the chicken story I've read so far.  (But if I have to read the chicken story in one more book, I'll likely pitch it across the room and no, I'm not going to tell you the chicken story -- you'll find it ad nauseam in any historical account of the Way if you care to look it up.)

But I gotta tell ya, not too far into the book I'd had enough of the donkey Moore had chosen to take on his pilgrimage, not out of a sense of authenticity, but to carry his stuff.  That pissed me off to start with.  You want to go an a pilgrimage, carry your own damn stuff.  (It's akin to the poor beasts that lug cruise ship passengers up the side of Santorini but don't get me started on that.)  Moore's account ended up being an endless tale of the stubbornness of the donkey, where to leave the donkey at night, what to feed the donkey...  Moral of the story -- don't take a donkey on an 800 km walk.

So what does this have to do with dogs? Well, after my 1.5 hour walk with my dog today I got to thinking how nice it's going to be going for a long walk without her. Don't get me wrong -- I love my dog. LOVE, LOVE, LOVE.  But my idea of a walk is forward motion.  Her idea?  Walk, sniff, squat, sniff, sniff, sniff -- tug -- walk, sniff, sniff, squat, sniff, squat, sniff -- tug...tugtugtugtug -- walk, sniff, squat, sniff...  You know where I'm going with this.  I know for a fact that after an hour and a half she ain't producing squat when she, well, squats.

And it will be nice to walk without carrying a bag of, well, you know.


Book Review:  Have you ever read a book and as you're reading you can't decide if you like it or not?  And then you get to the end and realize you loved it?  Neil Gaiman's The Ocean at the End of the Lane was like that for me. And I can't for the life of me tell you why.  If you pick it up and aren't enthralled, it's short -- get to the end before passing final judgement.  I think you'll be pleasantly surprised how it works its way into your mind and your heart, like something smoky and intangible.

Old Dog, New Trick

On a recent trip to Italy I realized that there was only one thing missing that could have enhanced what was truly a fabulous experience:  being able to speak the language.  It was a bit of a last minute trip (if last minute translates to booked it six weeks ahead) so I didn't have much hope of becoming fluent in Italian before I went (unless fluent translates to smiling and nodding at everything that is said.)

Then I discovered the Pimsleur Language Programs on CD at my local library.  I was getting really really good at saying, "I don't understand Italian" (in Italian, of course) but before I knew it, six weeks were up and I was on a plane heading to bella Italia, resigned to smile and nod my way across the country.

Things are going to be different this time.  I've got over eight months to study, I've got my Pimsleur Spanish CD's, and according to the box, "At the completion of these lessons you will be able to comfortably understand and speak Spanish with native speakers."  The user manual touts it as "the world's most effective method for teaching foreign languages."  High praise indeed.  The manual also disses the way we were all taught language in school.  Apparently low marks in school are no barometer for language aptitude and good marks probably means that what you learned will likely prove useless in the real world.  Now they tell us.

But I do have a smidge of French to fall back on which I'm hoping will help with the Spanish.  Because here's an interesting comparison I hit on:  if 1 = 100% similar and 0 = well...0% similar, then English is only .27% similar to French and 0% similar to Spanish and Italian, while French and Spanish are .75% similar, Spanish and Italian are .82% similar and French and Italian are .89% similar.  So the way I figure, I learn Spanish, I'll also be able to get by in Italian.

'Cause a return trip there is definitely on my list...you know the one I'm talking about.


Book Review:  Reading Joe Hill's Heart Shaped Box got me thinking about that age old question of genetics vs environment.  Not that Hill's book is about either of those things, far from it.  But Hill being the spawn of Stephen King makes me wonder if he can write like he does because his father can write like he does, or if it comes from growing up in a storytelling family. Look at pro athletes whose kids end up pro as well -- do their kids have the skill because they share DNA or because they were encouraged to excel?  Does musicality run in families because of genetics or exposure?

But back to the book.  It goes from zero to sixty in the first few pages and the accelerator stays pushed to the mat to the very end.  Sometimes I had to put it down just to get a break from the constant tension.  Hill created a pretty unlikeable fellow in his main character, Judas Coyne, and then made me root for him right from the get go.  That's talent.  If you like genre fiction, are willing to suspend belief to get caught up in the story, then this could be the book for you.  As for me, I think I've found an author whose work I'm going to follow for a very long time.

These Boots Are Made For Walking

The most important item on any walk has to be whatever you chose to wear on your feet.  If you're cold, you can add layers; too hot, shed a few.  But if your feet hurt, blister, or otherwise give out the walk is going to be one miserable experience -- if you keep going that is.

So in May 2013 I bought my boots.  I wanted plenty of time to test drive those puppies and break them in.  I didn't try on a ton of boots -- you'll know as soon as you try them on if a pair is calling your name.  And these Vasque boots in a men's size 9.5 were clearly calling mine.  (Apparently, they don't make anything in women's to fit my dainty size 11's.)

Surprisingly lightweight, these boots are waterproof and breathable.  And the first time I wore them I got a hot spot on the back of my right ankle.  The next time, a full blown blister.  DAMN!  But I have horribly blister prone feet so this wasn't totally unexpected.  I crushed the backs down and softened them up a bit and they've been fine ever since.  So fine in fact that I often wear them when my back is sore as they seem to ease the pain.  If I had to get rid of every item of footwear in my closet and keep only one, I'd keep these boots.

They wouldn't do much when paired with a dress, but hey, at least I'd be comfortable.


Book Review:  I've decided to review the books that I post here on my reading list, so as not to appear to recommend something that didn't really do it for me.  And these are just my opinions, folks...feel free to disagree or put me in my place.

I'm always leery of reading mainstream fiction that has won some kind of literary award.  So it was with some trepidation that I began The Purchase by Linda Spalding, winner of the 2012 Governor General's Award, and the January selection for my book club.  But it had great potential -- set in the early 1800's, the story of an uprooted Quaker family living in Virginia dealing with the issues of slavery.  I found it to be a plodding dull read, peopled by unsympathetic characters.  The interesting occurrences that did arise were emotionally flat and usually followed by a jump forward in time.  The ending? I turned the page expecting more.  

Boot Camp

One of the keys to my success on the Camino is going to be what kind of shape I'm in when I get there.  Now I work out on a regular basis but I have to admit, I'm carrying a couple of extra ell bee's at the moment (as long as a couple is translated as oh, let's just say a couple more than ten.)  Blame Christmas, blame all that fantastico food and drink that was consumed on my November trip to Italy.  But really the blame clearly belongs to one person and one person only -- that guy who invented chocolate.  I'd like a word, please.  Oh, and the guy who invented beer.  We need to talk.

But eight months is a good long time to do something about it and I'm raring to go.  First up -- Boot Camp.  I'm in a group of 22 and starting on January 13th for 25 sessions we'll be put through our paces by an ex-member of the British military.  Did this last year as well and it was awesome.

Next up -- I'm giving up running.  For this year at least.  Now for someone who loves to run (if love is translated as kind of likes it), this one will be hard. But the knees are starting to complain a little afterwards and I've had some pretty serious foot issues from overdoing it.  Don't want to risk screwing myself up before I go.  Plantar fasciitis is not something I want to experience ever again, especially on an 800 km walk.  So running out; hiking, power walking, endurance walking, incline walking in.

Or to put it another way....

More of this.....

           


                             




and less of this.................................













............and this.........







.....well, you get the picture.

On Bucket Lists

Ever since 2007 when Jack Nicholson and Morgan Freeman got together on screen to cross off items on their "wanna-do-it-before-I-die" lists before they kicked their proverbial buckets, it seems we all have to have one.  A Bucket List that is.  'Cause let's face it:  Wanna-Do-It-Before-I-Die List has no ring to it and would have made a lousy title for a movie.

Now don't get me wrong -- I'm all for setting goals and for setting out to accomplish them.  But it seems to me Bucket Lists have lost their intention. Nothing should go on a bucket list that you don't really really really Really REALLY want to do.

There should be three simple rules for these lists.  The really really really really really want to do it part. That's number one.  It's something you can actually do.  That's number two.  And number three -- sometime in your lifetime you will actually have enough money to do this.

Let's apply this theory to two items that could potentially be on my personal bucket list...

I want to marry Johnny Depp.  Rule One -- do I really really really really really want to do this?  Yes, I do.  So far so good.  Rule Two -- is it something I can actually do?  Hmmm...probably not.  I mean, it's not totally out of the realm of reality but it's floating pretty damn close to it.  So I don't even have to go on to Rule Three.  I have to eliminate that item off my Bucket List.  Sigh...

Next on the list -- I want to walk the Camino de Santiago.  Rule One -- Answer:  YES.  I REALLY REALLY REALLY REALLY REALLY want to do this.  Rule Two -- Answer:  YES.  I can actually do it.  Rule Three -- Answer: YES.  I will have the money.  So Camino goes on my Bucket List.

See what I mean?  So I challenge you to examine your own Bucket List.  If you really want to swim with sharks, climb Mount Everest, eat live snakes with a lost jungle tribe, fly to the moon AND rules two and three apply, then go for it.  But don't put stuff on the list 'cause it sounds cool.

Just keep it real.

   

Finding The Way

March 29, 2012...it's movie night.  Nothing unusual in that -- it's always movie night at my house.  This night's selection was an Emilio Estevez film starring Martin Sheen.  I've loved Martin Sheen ever since I saw him on an episode of The Mod Squad back in 1971. Tonight's film?  The Way.  A father honouring his son by walking the Camino de Santiago de Compostela...the Way of St. James.

Have you ever had a feeling that was instant and all consuming?  The knowing you have to do something?  I suddenly knew what I was going to do with my Green Jar fund. In six years, at age 60, I was going to walk 800 kilometres from St. Jean Pied de Port in France, across northern Spain to Santiago.

Then several things happened in fairly quick succession.  My father passed away in May.  In June a friend died.  He was 61 years old.  In July my healthy dog developed a bleed into his stomach and was dead in a couple of hours. Another friend died in his 60's.  A neighbour in his 50's had a sudden fatal heart attack.  BAM...it hit me -- I'm not guaranteed tomorrow, much less 60. So I bumped up the date for my trip, taking into account familial and work related obligations.

I started throwing more money into the jar.  If there was a five dollar bill in my wallet on Sunday, it went into the jar along with the change.  At the end of the month, I threw in a $20 if I had one.  Now I know I'll never get to Spain on spare change.  There's a separate travel fund in the bank.

The jar is symbolic.  It represents all the grand adventures I'm planning on having.

And my Camino?  September 2014.

The Green Jar

Sometime late in 2011 while walking with my dogs, I just happened to be looking down into the ditch where I noticed a large green glass orb nestled in the weeds.  Climbing down and pushing the weeds aside I realized it was a glass jar but figured the other side of it would be smashed.  When I pulled it out it was in one piece, filthy but intact.

I figured it had likely been pinched off someone's front porch somewhere and the perps had ditched it when walking down the road with it suddenly didn't seem like such a great idea.  'Cause it's pretty big -- about 27 inches high and over 4.5 feet around the belly narrowing to a 2 inch opening.

Working on the principle of "finder keepers" I pushed it deeper into the weeds and hustled home to get my car.  'Cause walking down the road with it didn't seem like such a great idea.  I got the jar home, cleaned it up and set about figuring out what to do with it.  No way was it going on the front porch. I mean, someone might steal it.

I decided that I would use it to save money to do something special for myself on my 60th birthday, just over six years away at the time.  Maybe a trip to the spa...a birthday bash...a little trip somewhere.  So every Sunday I emptied my spare change into the jar realizing that it was going to take forever just for the coins to cover the bottom.  Then in 2012 a series of things happened that changed my life.

And the direction the jar was destined to take.