It's......Froggin' time!

It's nights like these that remind why we choose to live by a lake. The sun had set, the sky was beautiful, painted as only God can. From the sounds of their honking, Canada geese were on the fly way down the lake. Closer, a pair of mallards did a very fast fly by. The martins were performing their acrobatics, on the hunt for bugs of which there were plenty over the water. The surface of the water steamed as warm met cool. It was quiet but not. Several families of martins had recently re-possessed their homes, a high apartment house beside the shore, and they were celebrating big time. But there was no human nor car traffic, just the wonderful stillness of Nature and Her sounds.

Spencer, unusually, walked beside me. He's not himself, suffering from an internal bug that's had him down the past four days. Usually, he's well ahead, beside or behind me, racing this way and that. To have him walk beside me is most unusual, poor lad. As the road rounds the corner away from the lake, it crosses a drainage ditch open at either end. This is where frogs be found. Could it be too early? Methinks not. "Frogs, Spencer? Frogs?" He's immediately at the search and is rewarded with one the size of my fist who is not afraid. Watching them nose to nose makes me laugh out loud. The frog jumps, Spencer jumps and the chase is on (Spencer being careful not to step on or bite at his little green buddy but on the scent nonetheless)! We find one more sitting kamikaze-like in the middle of the road. Spencere almost lost interest but then the leap-frogging began.

Despite those moments of fun, once the frog found the ditch, Spence was back to his listless self. He even let me win the race from the corner up to the house - which we all know he can win without the least amount of effort. Yes, my little white curly-haired friend is truly ill but he sits most gracefully awaiting his treat. Most days, this little guy has so much energy his coat can barely contain it; it's worrisome to see him so listless. P and R, his people, took him to the vet today for a shot; let's hope he feels better soon.

Back to her old self!

A few days ago, I wrote I thought our dear old Dolly was dying...and she was. A five pound cat can't afford to lose too many pounds! We took her off the antibiotic even though we didn't see the prescription through as prescribed. What good is healing when it kills?

I decided to discontinue her meds and immediately Dolly's appetite woke up. She's eating regularly now, no more blood in her urine and she's filling out nicely. The second bottle of meds sits coldly in the fridge; there, if we need it but I pray we won't.

No longer is she isolating herself on her favourite mat in the bathroom. No longer is she avoiding us (the bearers and imposers of bad medicine!). She's back to her chatty self, caterwauling to wake us up at 5:14 am, sitting in my lap, pushing our buttons to open the door - any door - so long as it leads to the out of doors. Her eyes are shiney as is her coat. Best of all, her appetite has returned. Dolly is back!

Such a good line...

One of my co-workers, KM, has been vacationing back home in Newfoundland. He came back with a saying that's priceless: "You're so smart, you should go away!"

Of course it's layered with meaning. If you're smart you will leave Newfoundland for greener pastures, better jobs, better economy. At the same time, it's insulting: "Get out of here, you smart-ass!" Of course, Newfoundland needs to keep its smart young people - what province can afford to lose them?

I've never met a people (and I'm counting all the Newfoundlanders I've ever met which is quite a few) who are so clever at word play, who have such a charming sense of humour, whose expressions tickle one so. KM says he'll have to re-adjust his accent to Ottawa again having been exposed to Newfoundlandese for several days.

If you like words from different origins, check out the Dictionary of Newfoundland English; there are some wonderfully different words. One can't help but think of other influences. For instance: "alley-coosh" meaning "go to bed". If you know French, it's almost phonetically the same as "allez coucher" which is pronouced: allay coushay...ummm. Not much detective work there. EH, another NFLD friend has told me about brewis: sea-biscuit or 'hard tack' soaked in water and then boiled with salt cod and fat pork. Ya know you're a Newfoundlander if you've tried brewis!

When I visited St. John's, I was advised "Yous got to try cod cheeks or cod tongue!" (Yes, "yous" is another delightful Newfoundlandism.) Well I have to admit cod cheeks are delicious! I wasn't there long enough to found an establishment serving cod tongue tho.

If you haven't been, go visit Newfoundland one day. I promise: it'll be unforgettable!

Don't Phone & Drive!

I guess it wasn't my time - thank God. Driving to the theatre for rehearsal a couple of weeks ago, I sat at a red light awaiting the flashing green. I got my green light but I also almost got hit by a driver, totally oblivious to his red light, blithely talking on a cell, looking for all the world like he was having a very enjoyable conversation and totally, totally unaware he'd run a red.

For God's sake people, no phone call is worth someone's life. Shut down your cell and save a life. It might be your own, your family's or someone else's family. No conversation is worth it.

Sick old girl

Dolly's been listless, not herself. I notice a minute spec of blood on the floor. In her litterbox, more. The vet is kind but says old girls of 20 like our Dolly quite often suffer from renal failure. The tissues gets thin. They're more susceptible to problems. She tells me Dolly's lost 1.5lbs since her last visit. I don't need to be told. You can easily see how thin she is, feel how thin she is. Doc prescribes an antibiotic: "If it gets better, come back for another prescription."

We give it a go. It's Hell. Dolly's feels attacked as we corner her, cries weakly as we gently pry open her mouth and drop in the meds. We notice it reduces her appetite. We notice it illiminates her appetite. We notice it makes her withdraw from us. No petting. No lapsitting. Not even the too early wake-up calls. When I hold her, it's like holding a skeleton wrapped in fur. We watch her fade away in front of our eyes. She is dying.

Soon the bottle is empty. We pick up another prescription but decide to give her a day or two off. Almost immediately, Dolly's appetite is back and with a vengeance. No more blood in her urine. Things are improving. But the new bottle is yet to be administered.

Woe is me

Maybe it's the weather. Maybe it's hormones. Maybe it's my personal electro-magnetism. Maybe it's my brain. I don't know what the Hell it is but I'm have an out and out angry day. I don't have 'em very often - thank Heavens - but today it was full bore. I'm angry that the @#$%&**#!! computer crashes just as I finish a sensitive, well-thought out note. I'm angry that the PC can't keep up with my typing: I look up and I'm two-thirds into a paragraph and the darn things is stalled on my second word! I'm angry that the vacuum cleaner brush attachment won't work all of a sudden just because I'm at the end of the wand. I'm mad as Hell that my MP3 player won't play to alleviate my anger while I vacuum. I'm pissed off that the @#$%&*(!! cell phone is always dead when I pick it up or goes dead while I'm using it [my husband never has this problem]! The only electrical things that appear to work well for me are the TV and the lightswitch! And watches. Let me tell you about watches.

As a kid, I loved Eva's watch. Eva was my mother's best friend and she wore a very elegant black and white watch with an extremely large face. She was always way ahead of her time when it came to fashion. After she died, I inherited the watch. I had it inspected, cleaned and wound (this watch was made before batteries). I wore the watch. It never worked on me. Reluctantly, I gave it to my younger sister. It worked perfectly on her and continues to do so. I continue to covet it as I did all my younger years but know now that watch is just not for me.

While visiting my younger sister, we commented on the watch story and she offered me Mom's watch. Mom had passed on several years ago. My sister likely thought this would make a nice replacement to the watch I had given her. Well, here we go again. The watch won't work on me. Now I haven't completely given up. Maybe the battery is simply dead. I'm going to give that a go then hold my breath.

But I do believe there is something to personal magnetism or some such. I've had a terrible history with computers and it still surprises me that they work for me at all. I've found when I'm under pressure, angry, upset or on fast forward, they do everything they can to stall me...to the point I want to throw them out the nearest window. I'm a super-user yet I can really get a computer to dig in its heels so to speak. I've gotten in the habit of taking my hand off the mouse the second I give it a command - that seems to work even though it sounds really crazy. But, of course, it doesn't work for the keyboard. Guess I'll have to check into one that takes voice commands. For more on personal magnetism, check this article out.