Flu Away

I’m on day eight of the flu. I was just about to skip posting this week as all my energy is saved to care for my four year old, Lanes, who might or might not have passed the virus onto me.  Any old how, Lanes and her (relatively) self-sufficient dad, P, are rather enjoying my inability to micromanage and launch into lectures.

The week was long, but I squeezed in one day of fun in there! I just had enough strength to give Lanes food and keep her clean. Asides from that, I let her do as she pleased—which included a lot of running around our apartment with her super hero cape, slamming tunelessly on her little toy organ and lots of cutting and pasting for some sort of arts and crafts activities that I have no recollection of.

Her musical interludes were her futile attempts to keep me conscious.  Realizing that nothing was going to make me jump off the couch, she resorted  to petting my face and putting blankets on me saying ‘this will make you feel you better, Mamma’. From time to time, she would would plunk down on the couch with me, invariably kneeing the exact part of my hips or legs or lungs that was aching. Is this what 'tough love' means? All I know is if she refuses to go to college, she will have a bright future in wrestling.

I was blessing whoever invented preschool—must have been a woman—that I got some time to myself during the day, but as luck would have it, Friday was a holiday.  I thought it would be a nightmare because Lanes would be bored at home, but she was surprisingly ok.  She spent the day dragging her toy food to the living room and making ‘soups’ for me.  In between my coughing fits and bouts of sneezing, a toy carrot would be shoved unceremoniously into my mouth, and she genuinely wondered why I wasn’t feeling better after her home remedies.

Today, the coughing and sneezing has stopped at least but I still feel like a camel is sitting on my chest. The only good news is that for the first time in eight days I didn’t wake up with my throat and the roof of my mouth on fire. Also, last night I didn't wake up at some point thinking the earth was moving. For the four nights in a row, I woke up about to yell at P for shaking the bed or warning him that I felt tremors on the ground, only to realize that I was alone on a couch and shivering.

However, with the congestion and tightness in my throat and chest still present, it looks like Lanes and P will be speech free for the rest of today too. It’s been really tough on me not making sarcastic comments or issuing decrees in this state.

On a brighter note, on Saturday, P got to enjoy one of his first perks as being officially employed! He got to take us to Telus World of Science for free! Even though I felt like I was about to pass out any minute, I dragged myself out because there was no way I was going to miss out on the fun. Also, part of me wondered if my apartment was making me sick—I did feel better outside.

Lanes loves to be scared and she was delighted when she saw moving, growling, clawing dinosaurs! She got a thrill each time one blinked and bore his teeth and waved his sharp ‘claws’ menacingly. Then there was another section where we could go and pet snakes and various lizards.

I was surprised because Lanes and I got right up there and were really into it. P was a lighter shade of pale because he is terrified of snakes. I don’t know if it was the flu numbing my senses or what but until I felt P whacking me hard on my back to get me to move away from a snake that was an inch away from my ear, I didn’t think to be scared. He was fearfully eyeing some woman who was walking around with a snake around her neck. She had the uncanny ability to cross our path nonstop.

I saw beads of sweat forming on P's face and he quickly fled after that so Lanes and I followed. I was glad Lanes was not squeamish over those things but she got distracted by a Lego land type area.  I regretted not touching any of the lizards or snakes. But then again I didn’t want to touch anything anywhere in case I was spreading germs--I heard somewhere that you can make animals sick. Plus I could hear my germaphobic nutty sister’s voice in my head ‘lizards carry salmonella’.  I don't even know if that's true.

While Lanes and P were happy building a tower or something out of Lego, I got distracted by another big room full of fun science type things.  There was one area where you could stuff tiny yellow Styrofoam-ish balls into a chute and then it would fly through various tubes on a wall and fly out the top.

The balls would hit people, young and old alike, but it was ok seeing as they were so light.  When I coaxed Lanes and P into that room, they really enjoyed trying it out. When we got home and I took my coat off, I found one of those balls on the floor of our apartment. I was dismayed!

At first I didn’t realize what happened and accused poor Lanes of bringing a ball back, and with big eyes full of earnest she said she didn’t and it fell out of the hood of my jacket, a point which P quickly confirmed. I looked horrified--both at falsely accusing my offspring and the thought that I unwittingly brought the ball back.


Now the tables were turned, but Lanes just told me ‘it’s ok, it was an accident. You didn’t mean to take it. We will take it back to the place, and they will say it’s ok, alright Mamma. Don’t worry about it’. Nice. 

Any old how, I felt sicker when we got home, but I was glad to get out and have fun with the family. I really still feel rather drained of energy but after having run out of food and not wanting to have to order pizza, I made P his favorite dish, moussaka, and Lanes her favorite, mac and cheese.  I have no sense of smell or taste, so I just nibbled on both.

Now I must go and figure out tonight’s dinner and try to squeeze in a nap before Lanes materializes from school. I think she needs her feisty mom back, poor child. Too bad my nutty sister doesn’t live close by. I sure wish someone would show up with a half a chicken or something and spare me the trouble! Below is a picture of Telus Science World and one of the activities there.  More musings from BC next week…

Cough Up the Gags

I’m sorry I am a day or two late in posting this blog! I was originally going to write a note saying I’ll have one up and ready in a couple of days, but as you all know, nothing ever goes the way I intend. Somehow one line became two and the words were gushing out speedily and precariously like bowling balls down a hill.

I was late putting this episode up because my four year old, Lanes, has been coughing up a storm and was floating around our flimsy apartment with one nostril running and one nostril stuffed up—I don’t even know how that is possible. I have been in a flap, every retching cough sounding like nails scrapping a blackboard to my ‘Mamma’ ears.  

My far more sensible spouse, P, of course took it in stride, only furrowing his brows in concern, and pulling out more tissues from his sleeves than a clown at a birthday party. Considering Lanes loves to garnish me with sloppy kisses and is constantly doing things like accidentally sticking her fingers in my eyes, I'm bound to get sick. As I type this, I feel like I have a hot coal wedged in my windpipe.

The good news for this week is that my nutty sister and my gorgeous nieces descended upon us for twenty four hours! When my sibling first decided to come, I didn’t take her seriously. Or maybe I didn’t want to get my hopes up and then be all sad and lonely when she doesn’t come and drive me crazy the way only she can. She has her own brand of madness.

She can say she is coming to Canada one minute and the next thing I know, she is in Utah, or she might come into contact with the pet penguin of a friend’s third cousin twice removed who has diarrhea and then she cancels.  She is constantly scared of passing on bugs.  These conversations start with the words 'I don't want Lanes to catch (insert virus du jour here)' and end with me dashing the phone on my forehead.

I waited with bated breath until they called from the border. I didn’t utter a word to Lanes, just in case. She was so surprised, she was speechless! Sadly, Lanes proceeded to get her cold/flu/cough right after! Not that she let it stop her fun. I don’t know if this ended well for my virus-phobic sibling, but everyone decided to make the most our one day of ‘fun’.

Well, I brilliantly got a migraine, and to my sister’s credit, it had nothing to do with her—for once. I was upset over Lanes’ coughing and the night before P had sprayed an old cologne into his CD player—I'm sure this is something all rational people do--all stereos need deodorizing. I got such a headache from the smell and it was so offensive to my lungs that I had to whip out my inhaler.

This was not easy to do since I hide medication in ridiculous places to keep it away from Lanes, and in the end I can’t find anything. Luckily this time, before I collapsed in a heap on the floor, I found it wedged behind the dishes.  The lingering smell in our static aired apartment and the worry over Lanes' cough made my head spin.

I figured that Lanes was ok since her dad and aunt were around and she was busy prancing around with her cousins, so I put my micromanaging tendencies aside and took a nap. Net result, after twenty minutes of P and my nutty sister keeping the kids away from me, I had three very large children with very pointed elbows, knees and chins bouncing way too close to my kidneys, thighs and ribs on the bed.

For the sake of self preservation, I had to get up and my sister came and dived into the bed as well. They noticed flashing red lights outside, and all of them rushed to the floor to ceiling window, pulled the blinds aside, and marveled at the sight of various fire trucks and ambulances outside. 

This is a very common occurrence in our crazy a$$ ghetto fabulous building, so I wasn’t surprised. What seemed different to me was that there were no cop cars this time. I was so used to the drama before us that I was immune to the wailing of the sirens.

I sprang up and ushered them away because anyone outside had a nice view of the four of them (nutty sister and the three girls all standing in order of height) pressing their nosey noses against the window. They looked like wanna be extras from the show ‘Cops’ or something.

They failed to realize that in the pitch black of night, they are more likely to be the spectacle than the spectators. With the lights on in our place,  the outside world could clearly see them, and me in my dashing PJs in the background.  After I shooed them away, they flew to the window in the living room and were very disappointed to find that the action was happening in the building opposite ours—for once!

Deflated at not getting to see a bust going down (I guess they should have come on a Saturday, when the pot heads have pot lucks), they requested that I stay up for the rest of the night so that they might have some entertainment.  I had to put a very tired Lanes to bed and when I returned to the living room, my nieces were wide awake and my sister was mewling in her sleep on the couch.

This was interesting and disappointing at the same time. I am not sure when we will be able to visit her, so I was looking forward to chatting with her all night like back in the day when she used to come home from college for the summer. However, she is much like a wobbly trained seal when she is sleeping, and thus there was fun to be had.

If you prod her, she will turn left or right, depending on where you jab her and it’s a great time to ask her questions.  Between being known as the responsible one in the family and her penchant for eaves dropping and spying things, she is the keeper of secrets and big news. 

I told my nieces we should try and come up with some questions and see what she will say.  I had only tried this once, but all she said was 'a giant jelly doughnut is trying to eat me!'. I wonder what Freud would have to say about that. Try as we might, my nieces and I couldn’t find any questions we needed answers for.

That disappointment put aside, I hovered over her and debated trying to scare her. She instinctively reached out and whacked me in the head. I should have known better because on one occasion she broke my glasses and on another, when I was about seven and I tried to wake her up, she swung her hand and hit me in the neck so hard, I couldn’t turn my head for a day and a half. Obviously, I never learn.

I remained near the couch, determined to wake my sister up. She reached over and tried to squeeze the circulation out of my thigh. Luckily, she woke up to the sound of her children laughing and she added insult to injury by saying she thought she was clinging onto her pillow. I guess I need to join a gym.

After we caught her attention we decided to keep yakking and we wound up staying way too late. I think every last drunk tenant in our building had already slithered home by the time we went to bed.

We woke up to the sound of Lanes coughing up a storm. She was at it every twenty three seconds.  My nutty sister kept mumbling something about folks returning from Whistler clogging up the border and she was trying to rush back. Lanes and I were trying to do everything to make them stay longer.

In the end, we went out for lunch to an all you can eat sushi place. The dishes came out kind of small and the girls were really hungry, having been taken on a scenic detour to the mall (I can’t regale folks with stories and give driving instructions at the same time).  I thought, brilliantly, that if I order fast, we can leave soon and they can get home at a respectable time.

As usual, good intentions fail me, and I ordered way too much and I had to quickly cancel some of the orders. My nieces were overwhelmed by the amount of food in front of them. Lanes was busy with her miso soup and didn’t give a hoot because she was happy to be out with her beloved aunt and cousins. They helped me hide the evidence of wasteage. I did try to eat everything, but at some point, I had to give up.

They were laughing at me because on a previous occasion in Seattle, we went to another sushi joint and I was under the impression it was a buffet. I was happily taking stuff off the conveyor belt and marveling at what a great deal it was until P, ever more with it than I am, nudged me and told me it was not indeed a buffet and I had to quickly hoist the untouched sealed items back onto the belt. I never lived that one down.

I was mortified at the thought of years of jokes at my expense , ‘never take Aunty to a buffet because…’, ‘never go for Japanese food with Aunty…’.  Oie ve. Any old how they all ran off after that, all the while deciding that I was rather entertaining to be around, not so much for my stellar personality but for the cumbersome situations I fall into.

They can't wait to go home and tell their dad about their latest outing with me. I shudder to think of what my brother-in-law will have to say. He already thinks I'm not playing with a full deck. Hopefully, my famous chicken curry, basil meatballs and panrolls I sent him will work in my favor. Time will tell.

At the end of the day, I was left with a teary eyed lonely Lanes, and I’m feeling rather whoozy.  I can only imagine how I’ll be feeling tomorrow, so I thought better write while I’m semiconscious. Also, tonight is P’s turn to put Lanes to bed and judging from the high pitched singing that is going on in her room, I’m guessing she is better and he is worse for wear. On that C major note, I better sign off and rescue my spouse before he gets serenaded to til midnight . More musings from BC next week…

Fielding Trips

Many things have been dropped on me—literally and metaphorically speaking.  After investing in a helmet and catching mitts I began sulking in the corner that nothing good like aging vegetarian rock stars or publishing contracts ever fell on top of me.  So here is why I need to catch a break and my breath.

My four year old, Lanes’, preschool teacher announced that all the kids were going on a field trip—drum roll—to the dentist. Yes, the dentist. What child in his or her right mind would not enjoy that? Lanes looked rather stung in the rear and was feigning all kinds of illness to get out of it.

Apparently, it’s health and fitness week in school.  Of course I should know about the trip her very indignant teacher told me when I looked flummoxed as to why it was last minute and why my presence would be ‘much appreciated’.  She reminded me of the school schedule that was placed in my palm in the middle of the Christmas party last year.

If paperwork could join the witness protection program, my apartment would be where it goes to sign up.  This is the place where papers go never to be found again.  So somewhere, probably behind the couch or in the compost of my aloe plant, which is fighting valiantly to stay alive, there must be a schedule of events for Lanes’ school.

I quickly beamed at Lanes’ teacher, whose eyebrows were now arched and crossed, and pretended that I was with the program and quickly asked if any other parents were going.  When it was ascertained that I was not needed exactly, I bowed out. Meanwhile, my detail oriented spouse, P, grunted a little when I told him the news and then made me call the teacher and get specific directions.

Then he announces that the dental office was on a busy road, which in turn made me panic and decide at the last moment that I had to go and micromanage Lanes and her little friends.  I had terrible visions of the children bouncing about gaily while Mac trucks were whizzing by.

I told P rather sternly that the teacher had over 20 years of experience and it should all be fine, and he agreed. But the damage was done, and like Coca Cola eroding enamel,  my anal retentive, worry wart side chipped at my conscience. That is how I found myself dressed up and muttering on the sidewalk the next morning.

Lanes’ BFF’s dad showed up to give us a ride to the school. He told me he didn’t have an extra car seat (the teacher said she would give him one).  I dashed upstairs to our store room, where we have an extra one. What do you know, P had wedged it in between two laundry baskets and three suitcases.

This is why the store room is the only room P has full control of in our tiny apartment! If I was taller and actually had arm muscles as opposed to fat, I would have paid more attention to it. Now it was an avalanche waiting to happen.

It was like playing Jenga or whatever that game is where you have to pull out sticks and make sure no others fall down. I have never played that game. I yanked the seat and a large suitcase careened down on me, hitting a pipe. Yes, we have two water pipes in our storage room—who doesn’t?

Next thing I know, I’m falling over the iron, the dirty clothes’ basket, and some old exercise machine and water is gushing out from the back of the room.  With super human force I waded in and tightened the tap, but I was in fear that the rest of the luggage will whack it while I was pottering around downtown watching some dentist doling out tooth paste and brochures for teeth whitening.

I ran back down, handed over the seat and apologized that I won’t be able to make it to the field trip.  Half an hour, several near concussions and pulled muscles later, I had reorganized the store room. After the third piece of hand luggage hit me in the head and an umbrella jabbed me in my right shoulder blade, I made an irate call to P, but luckily for him, I got his voice mail. To make things worse, when I eventually got a hold of him, he found it all hilarious.

A few days later, after school,  the teacher announces that there will be a field trip to a preschooler’s fair the following day. This time I was strongly adviced to tag along as I ‘missed’ the last one.  She joked that if I miss this one too, I won’t be allowed to go to the planetarium at the end of term! Oh no! She knew I really wanted to go to that one.

I was swearing under my breath at being painted into a corner. I told her in the nicest possible way that it would have been great if I was told at least earlier in the day, if not sooner as I was still battling migraines.  Any old how, she said she just saw it in her mail and that was that. I would have to figure out the dinner and laundry thing in my own time.

I trekked all the way up the hill to the school to find out she didn't really need me to go on the trip after all!  In my head, I was stretching out my hands and shouting ‘why, why, why?’ but in reality I nodded and put my coat on to leave.

Then that pesky voice within me started nagging at me when I looked over at Lanes. She didn’t fuss when she saw me about to change my mind and then I decided that chores can wait and seeing my little girl smile was more important than anything else. So there you go, like how this little piggy went to the market, off to the fair I went. 

In other news, Lanes' swim classes are a disaster.  Last week the instructor put her under water and she freaked out. I felt so sorry because her eyes were wide open and locked onto mine while she was in the water.  After that, she just does not want to cooperate.  In fairness to the instructor, Lanes as usual was distracted and was not paying attention so she was caught off guard when dunked.  Today, she was squirming and screaming and I was at wits end. 

The changing room situation doesn’t help. I don’t know why, but to get to the pool and back out the locker room, you have to shlep through the bath water, or shower water rather, of five showering women, splashing each other and passers by. As you go through the locker room, the assault on your feet continues with encounters with lots of hair, unidentified yucky black specks, and more water.

This was making me feel rather disgruntled but on the way there, when I was ‘entertaining’ P with my descriptions of the women’s locker room complete with hand gestures, I suddenly realized the center had a family locker room. Surely, considering it’s meant for both men and women, there might be no nudity there! Eurkea!

So we zoomed into it and I could hear the choir singing in my head. It was not spotless, but it was far better than what we were used to. No dirty bath water. Private changing rooms with individual showers. What a luxury to have a door while dousing yourself with water pre and post dip! So now I officially have one less thing to complain about. 


Thank goodness too, because Plan B was to wear rain boots with my swimsuit. How dashing would that look?  The world of fashion can heave a big sigh of relief now that this new room was found. The best part is that P, who took a good look around for the first time, shuddered to think what the women's room was like if I thought we had moved up in the world with this changing room.

On that note, I must go and deal with the dishes—carefully. Within the last 24 hours, I have spilt hot gravy all over myself, broken three eggs—one on the carpet, and lost the grip of a carton of milk. It’s a good thing Lanes is not a baby, otherwise, I might have dropped her too. More musings from BC next week…

The Good, The Bad, and the Cuddly

This week, there was big news for my family, we had loads of drama in our crazy a$$ ghetto fabulous apartment, and my nutty sister welcomed a new addition to her family—of the four legged variety. Warning, she has been calling people saying she brought her baby boy home, and many of her friends had nearly passed out at the news because they were shocked to miss an entire pregnancy.

Before I get into the juicy neighborhood gossip, the good news! My hardworking spouse, P, finally is officially permanently employed! We all heaved a collective sigh of relief. More good news, my four year old, Lanes, is enrolled in kindergarten.  P, diligent to a fault, had all the paperwork filled, filed, sorted, certified, and aligned. Luckily, he stopped short of laminating and binding the information, but I wouldn’t put it past him.

Thanks to his meticulous nature, getting Lanes registered took all of five minutes.  The lady in the principal’s office was peppering her conversation with lots of phrases like ‘oh my!’ and ‘wow, you’ve done all my work for me’. 

Each time she said she needed to photocopy something, presto, P had done it for her! Every time she brought out a form for us to fill, abracadabra, P had beaten her to it. I don’t know if she was impressed or was classifying him as a Type A personality in her head. 

Meanwhile, my contribution to the entire process was showing up with my hair properly groomed and supplying ID cards upon request.  My wide eyes were swiveling around trying to take in the surroundings. I was proud and petrified at the same time--I'm so going to be that annoying mom that screeches and weeps at graduation--I'll probably throw myself to the ground for good measure. 

Any old how, I was trying to do as much snooping as I could while P was busy either impressing or annoying the poor woman registering Lanes. I was also wondering why so many kids were visiting the Principal’s office, but since they were all smiling, I assume it’s ok.

Later in the day, I was telling P that I wish I could go to school with Lanes and make sure that she is happy and safe and the other kids are nice.  I said maybe I could hide behind a bush and peer in or something. Who am I kidding? If I paste some leaves all over my clothes and slap some hydrangea on my head, I’m big enough to be the blooming bush!

Our little eavesdropper, who I thought was completely absorbed in making a kite (seriously, don’t ask), vehemently chimed in ‘no Mamma! Big kid’s school is for kids and teachers only! Not mommies and daddies allowed unless the teacher says so.’  Leave it to me to get chastised by a preschooler.

Not wanting to remain shame faced, I asked her jokingly if I could go to college with her and she refused, said her Daddy can come, but promised to think about it. If she is anything like her father, she probably has got paperwork for a loony bin filled out for me. Luckily for my sake, she can’t write yet.

Now the not so nice news, which as usual, revolves around our ghetto fab apartment building.  The weather, albeit cold, has been sunny and forgiving. I spent most of this week with migraines, and I stepped out a little too early. As such, I thought I’d wait in the lobby of this joint until it was time to get Lanes. 

One of the cleaning ladies has a brother who lives on the ground floor, and all the tenants complain that he is a less than savory character, if you catch my drift.  I just ignore all the complaints because I mean really. What are we to do? The whole moving out thing was not working brilliantly for us. 

Any old how, I digress. So this lady comes in, all in a flap and exclaiming wildly to someone on the phone. She knocks on her brother’s door and there are lots of heated, four letter words exchanged. It was not pleasant, but I suppose for folks that are highly to likely to appear on Jerry Springer, it’s their version of sibling rivalry.

Next thing I know, that woman comes flying through the door, one shoe in the air, followed by a huge, red, metal hand truck/dolly barreling after her. It’s a miracle she was not hit and injured. I was not facing this drama, only hearing it and seeing the reflection in the window. Since I was not sure I wanted to be involved as a third party injury or a witness, I high tailed it out of there.

She was swearing and limping with shoe off and one shoe on and eventually he flung the other shoe at her and she came out and apologized to me for the drama. Not knowing what else to say, I just shook my head and said ‘brothers!’.  Thank goodness for my nutty sister, eh?

Later that day, my geriatric neighbor, who now keeps two strollers full of trash in the narrow corridor, knocks on our door. It’s never really good news. She doesn't like P, but is ok with me because  I listen to her since it’s ingrained in me to be nice to the elderly, no matter how cranky, and I speak Thai. That and I’m always home.

As usual, she gave me a run down on the State of the Building (aptly  SOB for short). Turns out, our mutual Korean neighbors are not so very patient anymore and she is so upset that they had ‘the audacity’ to complain about her strollers. I was thinking she is lucky they didn’t complain to the apartment manager, who is not on good terms with her as it is. Her defense is that at least she washes her trash and then keeps it out.

I guess her neighbors having to do hurdles and cartwheels to get to the fire door is ok because at least the trash is clean. I bit my tongue, not wanting to take the bait and eager to end the conversation because P was due any minute. Then she tells me that the nice lady on the 9^th floor lost all her clothes because someone stole them while they were in the dryer.

How horrible is that? Naturally, this lady was all upset and she had put up a nice note in the laundry room, saying she was on welfare and pleading for the laundry bandit to return her items to the dryer, no questions asked. My geriatric neighbor, cantankerous as she is, is very generous, so she was rounding up clothes to give this poor woman.

I went down to the laundry room bright and early because the other cleaning lady, who is my friend, is always cleaning there at that time, and I figured that way I won’t have two waste two hours babysitting my clothes.

Some idiot in our building put up a note in childish cursive fourth grade level writing saying the lady ‘on welfare’ should ‘get a job’ and is a ‘loser’ and should stop complaining about her clothes. Seriously? Is this person drinking the tap water from the duct taped leaky metal pipes in this building? 

As usual, when there is drama to be had, my neighbor materializes and she took the note to her hands.  I told her it’s early in the day, and that lady has probably not seen that horrendous, compassionless message, and its best she never sees it. So she took the note and chucked it and went over to the next building to raid the trash for goodies. I spent the rest of the day reaffirming myself that dogs are better than humans.

I didn’t hold on to pessimism for long though. On Saturday, P was taking Lanes to her gym class and they were not far down the road when they met with an accident, which if not for P’s quick application of the brakes would have been far more catastrophic.  An elderly gentleman didn’t see a stop sign and drove right into P’s path.

The crash was inevitable, but luckily, due to P’s quick action, he and Lanes were safe (as were the passengers in that man’s car).  The other driver quickly admitted it was his fault and was really worried because he saw Lanes in the car. Although he put everyone in jeopardy, he was very honorable and even told the insurance folks he was fully to blame.

Another couple saw the entire thing and volunteered to be witnesses for P if there was an issue with the insurance and they stayed with Lanes and talked to her while P was exchanging information with the other person. P was stunned by their kindness. When they came home, Lanes, always attuned to my feelings, stroked my worried face and told me she and her Daddy were very good and wore their seat belts and that is why they are safe. 

She was anxious that her Daddy was in trouble because of the accident and after I explained away her fears and showered her with kisses, she was all better and running around the apartment with her over-sized stuffed dog strapped into her old stroller.

All this had to happen on my nutty sister’s birthday! I was really sad they were across the border, because I sure could have used a little of their madness that day. They were also busy picking up their new pet, a cute Labradoodle named Mochi. Yes, Mochi. With a name like that, no wonder he comes with a perm. That poor dog is going to be teased in doggie day care.

So on that note, I must sign off before yet another migraine sets in. Although I am finding it hard to love my neighbors, at least this week has proven that we can rely on the kindness of strangers from time to time, and it's not all gone to the dogs! More musings from BC next week...