Grief

Ever had one of those weeks where it feels like you’ve been working overtime for like, three YEARS, toiling away on a hamster wheel, only to discover it’s only fracking Wednesday?  Ever realized how hard it is to spell “Wednesday” ? – both uses in this post took me far too many attempts than I should mention.  In any case, it’s been a week like that. 

My dear friend, co-worked and client passed away very suddenly over the weekend, and we are all picking up the pieces of what is left – I feel like the big Kool Aid guy walked through me and left a giant hole behind.  I am quitely processing right now, alternating between calling friends to just be near and comfort me, weeping in the backyard under the stars and hoping she knows how acutely she is missed, eating a lot of goat cheese and chocolate (not together — that would just be weird) and moping about listening to Nina Simone.  I even walked the dog in my pajama pants the other day.  Yes, this is what grief has done.  I will likely write more about my beautiful friend in this space when the wounds and shock aren’t so new.  For now, I will do what she may have liked and talk about my weekend and the things that are making me smile.

Like a certain flatulent Basset Hound. 

Baxter came with me to Kamloops this past weekend and was the life of the party.  Friday night, he hogged the bed and snored then woke me up at 6am to pee.  Saturday, he was entertaining and a perfect guest, save for the room-clearing ass air he was passing.  Seriously.  What do I feed him?  We’ve had some “loud and proud’ ones lately, which are kind of hilarious.  But these?  Were EPIC.  We finally came up with a genius accessory for him while playing a before-bed board game:

We had a photo shoot of head shots and family shots with the uh-mazing Lisa from Aspect Arts Photography and I am so looking forward to seeing what she did.   Uh, Lisa?  Soon?  Not to rush your art….

And then there’s the fruit flies.

It has been a heated debate, the getting rid of these little buggers.  I tried several traps this summer – bottle with coke in it, shallow dish with apple cider vinegar, soap and whatever else stupid Google recommended…I think I caught ONE fly.  I keep ALL produce in the fridge, I wash dishes like I have OCD, I avoid cooking (well, perhaps that wasn’t about fruit flies and I was just lazy), and I spend a lot of time yelling in frustration.  I put it out to Facebook and got LOADS of advice.  Last week, I set two traps: another fruit juice and soap in a shallow dish with plastic wrap thingy, and also a mason jar filled with rotty fruit (waaay overripe banana) equipped with a cone/funnel thing (this method would allow me to “set them free” outside, but let’s be honest, I’m going for casualties here, so that didn’t matter a lick to me).

The shallow dish caught about 12 or so over the weekend. 

The cone-in-the-mason-jar dealy (I should also note the cone was affixed to the jar with band-aids, as I apparently am the only person on the planet who does not own a single roll of tape) caught BILLIONS.  It’s a bit disgusting, because while they are IN the jar (trapped – MWAH-HA-HA!), they are also loitering about the OUTSIDE of the trap and further grossing me out.  Please see Exhibit A:

They also seem to (still) congregate on my cabinet doors (even though they only contain dishes), so I have taken to madly spraying them with Windex, all Greek Wedding-style, and gleefully smashing them with wads of paper towel. 

The battle continues.  Shouldn’t they all be gone soon?!?!?  Please tell me that Fall is when they all wither and die?

So.  Grieving.  Fast week. Farting.  Fruit Flies.   You’re all caught up.  You’re welcome.

On staring and being naked

Tonight is only my second night at home since Friday.  I took the dog and escaped for a restful weekend to the Sunshine Coast; I have a couple of friends housesitting there, and decided to join them for a few nights.  We reserved for the ferry, and that was the best $15 I ever spent – there was AT LEAST a 3 sailing wait behind me as I gleefully booted my way to the lineup.  It had cooled down from earlier in the week, so it wasn’t so hot that I was contemplating ripping off my clothes and fanning my armpits, so that was a huge relief.  Apparently Basset Hounds have a different gauge of the heat, because Baxter drooled, panted and basically leaked from all of his orifices for the entire journey.

He’s a bit needy on car trips.  If he’s in the front with me, which he was because the back of my car was filled with stuff I was delivering to my friends, then he spends the trip sitting and staring at me.  That’s all he does.  It reminds me of Man when I have to take him shopping, except Man doesn’t drool.  He stands nearby and just watches me while I shop and look at things.  I guess neither of them knows what to do?  In any case, it’s cute for about 10 minutes, then I feel like throwing a tantrum and instinctively start looking for boogers hanging out of my nose – why else would they stare?

My EXACT view for about 4 hours

We finally got to the house and easily settled into some cocktails (me, not Bax) and started to relax at the very quiet end of the road.  Bliss.

Saturday afternoon, my friend’s partner arrived home from a job he’d been working on, and it was hilarious because he greeted us in the front yard as we were picking some herbs and strawberries, walked into the house, and greeted us in the back yard a few minutes later as we made our way back to our lounge chairs, NAKED.  Ahem.  I’m not a huge nudist.  Sure, I sometimes stroll around the house a little in the midst of getting dressed, but I’m not truly naked very often.  This was a bit of a surprise, except it wasn’t.  B (my naked friend) loves to do everything in the buff, and that he and his partner have found this secluded paradise in the woods means he gets to be nekkid All The Time.

Truthfully, I wasn’t sure where to look.  I tried to be cool about it, but let’s face it, it’s like being in the locker room – I was a bit curious. I was encouraged to join in and strip down, but I just wasn’t feeling it.  Perhaps that’s another blog post all together…

That’s likely all I have to say about this.  I did request that he wear an apron while preparing dinner, but just embraced the nakedness.

The rest of the weekend was quite lovely; a bit of kayaking, an 8km run through the woods, some delicious meals and drinks, and many laughs along the way.  Bax and I stole away early (EARLY) Monday morning, and thankfully, the backseat of the car was cleared, so I wasn’t stared at on the way home.

Mon petit ami

If you have spent even 40 seconds with me in the past 5 years, you’d know that I have a basset hound, whom I adore.  He is turning 5 in eight short weeks, so I thought I would use tonight, dear internet, to wax a little lovin’ about my little buddy. 

Dear Baxter, 

You have made me laugh every day that I have known you, from the first time we met and you fell into an exhausted sleep on my calf as I knelt on the grass to your daily dramatic perceptions of your little world.  You started out a crazy MoFo; playing hard, eating everything in your way, including a package of Advil, a chocolate cake, and one of my favorite shoes.  I learnt 2 things from you in those early days: if you were too quiet, there was trouble brewing, and that you have a stomach that must be made of freaking IRON.  Wow.

You have evolved into a very delightful creature; you mostly listen to me, you don’t eat stuff off the counters anymore (yes, what a fun time that was), you seem to know when I need a friendly nudge from a wet nose, and you have the sweetest disposition of anyone I know.  Humans included.  

You are patient like I wish I could be, but at the same time have a one-track mind for what you want when you want it, which is something I have to admire.  You wear your big huge heart right on your sleeve, and your feelings are never a mystery.  You are happy from the moment you wake up to the moment I tuck you into the kennel at night, and you seem perfectly content to simply be in whichever room we are in, so you can hear our voices, and maybe have a little try of whatever we’re eating.  Though happy a lot, you are also very suspicious, and remind me of Stanley from The Office.  But it’s cute on you, except when it turns to Stubborn, and you cannot be persuaded to do anything that doesn’t make perfect sense to YOU.  I like to pretend I’m Alpha, but your apathy wins most days.

I love that you sleep for about 21 hours of the day, rising only to take care of business, eat, walk, and race about the house with your squeaky chicken in your mouth.  I love that in the middle of playing, you will pause, and run to fetch a toy to add to the fun.  I love that you are so, so gentle with dogs smaller than you are, and that you are fascinated and utterly respectful of children, even with their erratic movements and loud sounds.  I know you desperately want one of your own, but for now you will have to settle with watching them at the park with your tail waving about.  You will make an excellent Big Brother when the time comes.

I love your excited “stories” when I get home from work.  I imagine that you are telling me all about your day – I can honestly say it’s the favorite time of mine, to hear you explaining what you saw on your walk at lunch, and which friends you sniffed, and where you found something good to roll in.  It’s a nice transition into the home we all share, to have you throw a little parade for me to tell me your stories. 

I love that you lie on the sofa in the evenings and snore so loudly that we have to turn the TV up, I love that there is a tiny bump at the top of your head (the Summit of the Basset Hound), and I love that you race around the house after a walk like it’s the most exciting thing that’s happened to ANYONE ALL DAY!  I marvel at your ability to smell when I am making broccoli for dinner, and know to come and wait for the stump to be placed in your bowl.  I love that you vanish on sunny days, and I find you on a beautifully made bed, with a cream quilt, sleeping in a patch of sunlight.  I love that you appear to be utterly and completely exhausted all the time. It’s cute.  I love that you fall over to sleep like you have been shot and that you sigh when you are upset.  I love that I can trust you to hurt no one and that no one we have met feels at all afraid of you.

Don’t get me wrong, you are also a disgusting little creature.  You have houndy smell to you, and you are an endless source of eye goop (which you EAT!  Gross), stinky piles in the backyard, dirt, hair, drool and other nastiness, and you are perhaps the messiest water drinker EVER.  You belch, a lot.  You eat things I cannot even fathom, and turn every walk into a treasure hunt for discarded food, gum and cigarette butts (AKA Basset Buffet).  But we love you, dude.  You are our French Hunting Dog, and you give this house something we never knew was missing.  I will tuck you in tonight and wish you happy puppy dreams.

 

Suspicious, as usual.