Thursday, August 16, 2018

ROBBLOG #733- Nine Lives. Done.

No picture of me this time.

The photo is one of our boys- Dickens on the left and Doyle on the right- staring into the camera lens.
They were eight in June and they came to live with us eight years ago on September 15th.

The picture is not perfect these days.
If you followed the blogs of our journey from Orillia, Ontario to Vancouver Island last year at this time, you may recall that Doyle left us on the evening of August 17th at a KOA Campground in Winnipeg, Manitoba.

We were devastated.

I had been writing a blog that evening while sitting at the dining table in Priscilla- our RV. Doyle was laying on the back of the seat just behind my head. He had been there for an hour or more, gently purring in my ear.
It was normal. Things seemed normal.
It's funny how fast normal can turn into tragedy.
Dickens had gone to bed with Tom and our mini-schnauzers Missy and Koko.
I liked the quiet when writing.

At one point I felt the air a bit cool. It was about 10:30 pm August 17th. The door to Priscilla was wide open except for the screen door that was closed to keep out summer bugs. I got up to close the door. It was hooked snugly to the left on the outside of Priscilla. I took a few steps to the door and reached out to grab the outer door latch. As I did this Doyle ran outside in a flash!

I stepped down and called.
He'd come back in a few seconds.

It was pitch black.
I grabbed a flashlight.
I called to a young lady who was parked two doors down, asking if she had seen him.
She hadn't but she grabbed her flashlight and we shone the beams under her RV.
There he was!
Eyes shining wide in the light beams.
I was able to crouch down, grab him and hug him to my chest.
"I have him!"- I called to her.
"I'm glad"- she cried.
Then suddenly Doyle jabbed his back claws into the palm of my left hand.
I don't know why.
The claws jabbed so deep I yelled, releasing my grip a bit. He then jumped up, over and out of my arms. His tail disappearing into the black night was the last I ever saw of him.

I have gone over this scenario a thousand times in the past year and it doesn't make me feel any better.
I had him.
I lost him.
I had him tightly and safely in my arms and he jumped free.

Back in Orillia Priscilla sat in our drive. Just outside the door to the left was the backyard gate which was propped open when we were in Priscilla. We tried to get the "kids" used to being inside in her but Doyle knew the safety of Pine Tree House was just outside and around the corner...only-
this time it wasn't.
All that lay in the darkness was unfamiliar smells.
Unfamiliar territory.
A deep, dark, black nothing.

I called to Tom awakening him from a sound sleep.
I told him what had happened.
We called and called his name into the night. We walked the perimeter of the KOA.

We left food outside. His litter. A familiar jacket so he could sniff us.
We went to bed.
A fitful sleep.
Even Dickens was crying out. Then around 330 am a horrendous thunderstorm.
Lightening. Heavy, heavy rain. Loud crashes of thunder.
Doyle would be scared.
Our hopes dimmed.

We spent the following day and the next morning after that searching and calling and asking people if they had seen an orange tabby.
The next night the KOA Groundskeeper knocked on our open door saying he saw him with a bunch of feral cats along the shore of the Assiniboine River that cut through the KOA.
We took flashlights.
We called.
We could see cat's eyes in the river grasses but Doyle didn't come running out to meet us.

Leaving the KOA the following morning was tough.
We sobbed salty tears.
The Groundskeeper assured us he would call when Doyle returned.
We had some hope.
I don't know how Tom could see through his teardrops as we drove out of the park and onto the Trans Canada Highway leaving a part of us behind and alone.

We haven't stopped searching all this past year.
Almost daily I check the Facebook Lost Cat Pages for Winnipeg. We have been registered with the Winnipeg Humane Society. Doyle is chipped and if he were found and taken to any vet, the chip would lead him straight home to us- his Dads.

Now a year is up.
I told myself we'd hold our hopes high for a year.
We've seen so many photos of cats that look like Doyle I could fill this page and several more with their photos.
So far- nothing. The leads always fell through and that made us sad all over again.

Our Boy...We'll always Love You...
The best we can hope for is that someone is looking after him.
Good Food.
A warm place to curl up and snooze.
I don't even want to think about the freezing cold temperatures in Winnipeg last winter.
Back in Orillia he might have come out with us for a few minutes on the side verandah in the mild sunshine but on a cold, crisp day or night?
We still have a glimmer of hope but reality has pushed hope way down.
We have to be realistic.

We will miss him forever.
I'd love to hold him in my arms again. Have him snooze on my lap or curl up in front of the fire in a doggie bed he borrows from Missy and Koko.

Dickens had some rough times a couple of months ago. Even he realized his brother was not coming home again.

So, we have memories and we love each and every one.
We hate the not knowing where he is tonight.
Is he safe or what happened that night a long year ago and what about the past 365 nights.

But- enough now.
Goodbye sweet Doyle wherever you are...

It's done.
~heavy sigh~ ~tears~

Tuesday, August 14, 2018

ROBBLOG #732- A Year in This Life

August 15, 2017.
The day we left Orillia, Ontario under the cover of early morning light to make the eight day trek across this wonderful country we call Canada to our new home on Vancouver Island.

Now, back up one day.

The day before, we packed up Pine Tree House our wonderful c.1882 Victorian Home on Matchedash Street, North.
L3V 4V5. I still remember the postal code!

The moving van arrived in late morning and took up the entire stretch of pavement in front of the house. Four movers helped to dis-assemble the interior.
Tables, wing chairs, cabinets, patio tables and more.

The BIG Truck in front of Pine Tree House
This was to be known as the boxes and chairs move by Great Canadian Van Lines from Coquitlam, British Columbia.

We didn't have a chesterfield or couch but we had wing chairs both static and moveable like our
Laz-Z-Boys. We had antique rockers and commode chairs. Wooden dining room chairs and arm chairs- with and without padded seats.

Then the boxes.
I dunno…
Over a hundred. Closer to two hundred maybe.
I never want to pack boxes again. At least not that many and this was post-purging.
The stuff one collects during one's life.
I couldn't believe it.
Even so, it was incredibly hard to part with "stuff"- but I did.
We did.
Well, more me but I will use the plural for the Mister was a good guide to run things past.

Boxes and Chairs
The day was sad.

We kept busy but it was sad.
Friends popped by.
There were tears.
Lots of tears as I remember.
There were hugs.
Many hugs.
Words that cut to the heart-
"We'll probably never see you again."
"It'll be so different without you living in Pine Tree House"

Then, the best goodbye of all.
I think if you go back to a blog a year ago I mentioned it.
Our lovely neighbour Louise sauntered across the street.
She was sad.
She was upset.
She stood for a second clenching her fists and sort of rocking from side to side on her heels. I had no idea what she was about to say but she did say something.
It was bombastic.
It was from the heart.
It was sincere.

She looked up into my face through reddened eyes.
Then, while a tear or two came rolling down her cheeks she said:
"Well, Fuck You!"
"Just Fuck You!"

It was the most heartfelt of goodbyes and I will never, ever forget the moment.
The look of sadness on her face.
The damp on her cheeks.
We hugged and she tottered off across the street back to tell Don- her husband, what she had said no doubt.

It was the first "Fuck You" of the rest of my life!

The Parlour at Pine Tree House

Tuesday, August 7, 2018

ROBBLOG #731- Awnings, Awwws and Pride

Good Gawd, it's August!

How in hairy, old hell did that happen? It was just May a couple of weeks ago. Now, in a couple of weeks , the Mister and I will celebrate one year on this Island of ours. Yup, Vancouver Island has lived with us for a year! I'll do a larger blog on that when we get closer to the date all about our year here and how we still look for our orange cat Doyle who will be missing one year on August 17th! We hope he's well and someone has taken him in back there in Winnipeg but I would still give anything to have him back in my arms. ~sigh~

Boy, it's been hot on this Island! I can't remember the last day with rain and like many other days in the past weeks it's been above 30c. The big different here on the Island than back in Ontario, is the heat continues without a thunderstorm- they are rare here, like tornadoes and summer bugs including mosquitos. Our heat pump has been keeping Palm Villa nice and evenly cool. Much better than the air conditioner in Orillia did. We always had a room there at Pine Tree House where we could hang meat or store ice cubes. Here, in this house, the cool seems to be evenly spread and the cost is lower.

The sun seems more intense here somehow. Maybe the lack of pollution. It's so hot on the east front side of Palm Villa that we would have to sit under an umbrella but boy are we tan! Tan like Hawaii tan. It's a much more golden brown. I don't sit for hours in the sun mind you. I mean, one doesn't have to or want to but one still tans up. Occasionally, the Island wind would topple our yellow umbrella, so the Mister and I spent a horrible amount of money on a new awning. The awning has an Italian/Western flair- since it is made in Italy, assembled in Mississauga and shipped here to the Island Awning boys. At times during the year they make their own but the install boys says it's just too busy these days, so they order the awnings from Italy, the parts in Mississauga and assemble them at the company warehouse in Victoria. Ours is sage green in colour- like Palm Villa, with a cream stripe matching the trim on our house.
Palm Villa with an Italian awning!
Imagne, it's like living in Tuscany without the Italian men!! Oh, you could count a couple of the building boys as Italian if they didn't open up their mouths to speak English. You know, chests covered with curly, thick, black chest hair. Talking with their hands. Nicely tanned.

Is it Tuscany or Vancouver Island?
The Mister and I were just off the Island over this past BC Holiday weekend. We took the ferry to Vancouver and stayed with friends to celebrate Vancouver Pride. The Vancouver Boys live just a block off Davie Street where the Gay Village is located. That's just a few clocks from the Ocean and the beach.

Vancouver is a beautiful city. Expensive and busy but beautiful and the boys in the parade were lovely to look at as well. We watched the parade go by from our vantage point on Robson- the main drag, for two and a half hours. It moved much faster than the Toronto Parade but Justin was still there with a ton more security and his two special cars following closely behind. We never saw that in a Toronto Parade but then again some Aboriginals are so crazy pissed at the pipeline that Justin insists is going ahead whether they like it or not that tighter security is in order. I just ask myself- do these folks drive cars or heat their homes or buy products made of petroleum? We know many live in houses where garbage is spread from pillar to post across their land.

Oh yes folks, that's reality here on the island. On many Aboriginal lands one sees broken down homes, rusting cars and garbage spewed  from one end of a property to the other. I should take pictures and show you. We're not supposed to talk about that or point it out. Everyone knows it though like the Emperor and his New Clothes.

Once you're here a while, you just get used to it. I'd like to say to these Indigenous BC' ers to clean up their lands before they point a finger at big petroleum. You should see the garbage laying next to the Casino in Duncan. Not what we were used to seeing adjacent to Casino Rama back in Orillia, Ontario and believe me what I'm say is mild. Very mild compared to what I hear.

That's Our Justin!
Anyhoo, there were mega branches of this tribe and that- including two-spirited folks, in the 40th Annual Pride Parade. Did you know that "two-spirited" folks were held in high esteem in Aboriginal Society. This could possibly mean they had "Pride" celebrations long before us Gay white folks even thought of the idea.
Huh, the things you learn...
The remainder of the parade was filled with floats, bands, walking groups and muscle boys. I only saw one pair of lady titties- much different than in Toronto, as well, there were no penises flapping in the midday sunshine....more's a pitty.
In Toronto, the Christians are all in the parade- except for the Baptists and the Catholics who still live in the middle ages. At the Vancouver Pride Parade I saw no religion marching. It doesn't appear to be such a big thing here on the left coast. Religion, I'm referring to here, however the Humanists (the Atheists) were there- signs and all. Did my heart good. One sign said- "This Atheist gives free hugs"

Boys and their Parade!
We also learned to book BC Ferries months in advance of a long weekend or in advance of the summer folks hitting the Island. We are surrounded by water and limited to escape via plane or water.
We made it both ways across the water to and from Horseshoe Bay in West Vancouver. The ferries are very comfortable, have a couple of restaurants like White Spot and offer comfortable seating while you pass the 90 minutes to and from Horseshoe Bay on the mainland and Departure Bay here on the Island at Nanaimo. It takes us about 40 minutes to drive home after we dock on the Island.

Our Island Days continue to be full and there are times we feel like we are running our Bed and Breakfast again what with the company we get.
But, you know what?
It's all good.

Wednesday, July 25, 2018

ROBBLOG #730 Bleeker Street Hots!

Off to Bleeker Street we go once again...A Thursday Afternoon in July about 1:40 pm

Jane: Well would you F*^%$ look at that would ya. That kid who mows Mr. Johnson's grass is stripped to the bloody waist! He's flaunting his man-made muscles and tanned skin all the way across the street so decent folks like us hafta look. ~puff, puff~

Blanche: What are you on about Jane?

Jane: That thing over there. Showing off his pecs and delts and Lawrd only knows what else.
~drag, puff~

Blanche: Now Jane Dear, it's very warm out and the young man just needs to be cooler while he's working.
~swings her chair to the window~
I can't see what the big deal is...
~Blanche looks across the street~
Oh, my stars! It is a big deal!

Jane: Uh, huh. I told you so. Lookit him standing there &*^% his rippling arms and flexing those stomach muscles, why if I knew who'd to call to place a complaint I would. ~puff, drag, puff~

Blanche: Now Jane, don't go upsetting yourself. I see it's just little Jimmy Hanson out there...
  ~pause~ but I must say he has built himself up quite well. Lot's of Wheaties in that boy I'll wager.

Jane: Yes! ...and there he struts for all the &^$#*&^ neighbours to stare and gawk. It ain't right Blanche. There's women and kiddies out there.

Blanche: Oh Jane Dear, since when have you been concerned about the neighbours? Look It's just a young man who has worked very hard at his health and well-being and today is a golden opportunity to show it off. ~pause~ My Goodness, those arms are quite impressive and the way those little droplets of perspiration are rolling down his smooth chest all the way to...

Jane: Stop Blanche! What the fuck is happening here? You're usually the one all over me for crossing a line and now your little girl panties are all moist over a 20 something stud muffin? Why,  I'd be ashamed of myself if I were you Blanche. &^%*$#@ ashamed!

Blanche: Oh, it's just a bit of girl fun. Tell you what Jane Darling...Go grab the "Brownie" and we'll take a couple of shots- you know, just to hang on the refrigerator door!

Jane: You want me to freeking well walk all the way up them stairs to get your damn camera, just so's you can take a picture of a bit of man-flesh on a hot summer day?

Blanche: Yes, Jane Dear, that's about the size of it. ~she looks out the window again and smiles~
Well, actually, it's hard to tell from across the street but if I wasn't in this damn chair...

Jane: But ya are Blanche. But ya are!! ~puffing away as she leaves to get the Brownie~

Sunday, July 15, 2018

ROBBLOG #729- A Fractured Island Fairy Tale

Our Daughter called the other evening from Medicine Hat.

Now, I know what you're about to say-

"Rob, Dear, you don't have a daughter in Medicine Hat."

That is true.
Our daughter Carol lives in Calgary.
Again, I can read your mind.
Calgary? Daughter? WTF??

Once again, I stand corrected.
Carol is our daughter-in-law. She's married to our first son- Michael.
Now, just stop it!
I am about to tell you why she was in Medicine Hat. Carol and Michael were visiting Carol's Aunt Maude who has lived in The Hat for these past twenty years. Up until that time, she lived back in Ontario. In Oakville. Maude was a teacher at Sheridan College. She taught voice and boy was she good at it! Standing next to her at a public event whilst singing O Canada will put the shame of Judas in one's vocal abilities.
Maude's first husband passed many years ago and she hooked up with Harley a few years back and for whatever reason, they decided to settle in The Hat.
I don't ask, quite frankly.

Anyhoo, Carol and Michael- who live in Calgary, were visiting Aunt Maude celebrating her 68th Birthday. Maude loves Jann and John Michael.
Jann and John Michael?
I wish you would all keep up with me!
Jann and John Michael are our Grandkids.
Jann is 12 and John Michael is 10. They both love their Grandpa Tom. Oh, they love me too but I am the one who refuses to leave the cookie jar on the counter when they visit. Whereas Grandpa Tom helps the kids steal chocolate chip cookies on a regular basis. They even sketch a treasure map of sorts to plan their evil cookie heist.
Good Gawd.
Tom is so good with those Grandkids.

I love this shot of Carol & Michael
Michael- our son (in case you are experiencing a bout of early dementia) and Carol, married 15 years ago in a beautiful little ceremony in Orono, Ontario- not far from Peterborough, where Carol's parents still live. They raise mini-schnauzers and have for 25 years or more. That's a story for another time.
They finished university at Trent in Peterborough and married in June of 2003. The kids came along a couple of years later.
Do the math.
By the way, I am not posting my Grandkids pics on the Internet and that is that.

So Carol called to say hi and forward greetings from Aunt Maudie. She asked how the celebration plans were coming along. I said fine. She still insists to arrange the flowers. are probably wondering- "What Celebration?"
Do keep up...
Tom and I celebrate one year on the Island on August 22nd and the kids want to make a big deal of it.
The Mister and I are letting them.
Kids, eh?

Then, just this morning, another call came our way. Tom was out front watering so I picked up the phone after reading the display.
This time the call was from Brad and David.
They moved to Vancouver Island- Victoria to be specific, in 2016. They had cajoled and pleaded with Daddy Tom and I to join them for over a year.
We had been thinking about it for almost two years and once Tom retired from his "In Charge" position with Air Canada- yes he was a stewardess for 42 two years, we set plans in motion.

Besides our Brad and David, I don't think I have ever seen anyone so excited as Joy and the Twins- Michael and Brad Junior, when the Homo Grandads finally moved into our new home in the Cowichan.

David and Brad (right)  Aren't they cute?

Now, once again I can read your minds!
Brad? David?
You have Gay sons??
Well, only Brad is ours. What do they call it- blood related?
Brad was born twenty eight years ago from a surrogate Mum. I'll call her Michelle because we can't tell you her real name. It's a part of the original contact we signed with her. Brad could officially belong- DNA-wise, to either if us and NO we don't know and we never care to know. He's our son and that's that.

Oh My Goodness, you people ask a bunch of questions.
Michael is adopted.
Carol's Michael.
Look, just read the opening few paragraphs if you are still scratching your head.

Now, Brad's husband David is our son. Our son-in-law- through marriage, six years ago. We love those boys to bits. Chips off the "old blockheads"- Tom and I.

Joy- our Granddaughter, is six and the twins are four and yes, they are a handful to be sure. Brad and David have their hands full but Colleen, their live-in Nanny is spectacular and makes their life easier.
We are not sure what they'd do without her. She even comes up island with the kids for a weekend now and then to give the "Boyz" a break and she is a hoot. She has magic charms when it comes to looking after our Grandkids. Colleen gets a break too when she's here in the Cowichan. We tell her to go have a spa day or go shopping. Then, we all go out to dinner.
We have a blast!

So, Brad calls and says he and David have found another caterer they'd like us to see and talk with him.

Hennaway, Tom and I are heading to Victoria soon to meet Mr. Marcel.
I kid you not!!
When Brad said his name was Mr. Marcel, I just couldn't stop snickering. At first Brad was stern with me over the phone, you know, just snorting and giggling in between sentences. I knew he was covering the phone with his palm. Soon he joined in the guffaws for real.

Brad says that Mr. Marcel would appreciate the laughter. He is apparently very easy-going.
David picked up the extension and admonished us saying we needed to "grow up!"
I will never "grow up". David knows that- just as well as he knows his kid's first names.

Anyway the plans are in motion and The Mister and I are looking forward to a rollicking good time.
Brad passed the phone to little Joy and she asked if the Grandpas were going to invite any Drag Queens to the party.

I chuckled.
Maybe. Just maybe we will Dear...

Thursday, July 12, 2018

ROBBLOG #728- Why Not?

I'm telling folks I'm running for Mayor.

A week ago a big vote was cast on joining the City of Duncan and the Municipality of North Cowichan together. Since then-while talking to neighbours, I learned that not the Mayor nor a single counsellor in Duncan even lives in the City.
We don't either.
The Mister and I live in North Cowichan, which has it's own Mayor and Council too.
It's complicated.
Oh. The vote?
The vote failed and unfortunately like a bride leaving the groom standing at the altar, we remain estranged from the City of Duncan. Duncan is the smallest city in Canada by area.
One Square Mile.
Our address is Duncan but our taxes go to North Cowichan. I recently heard that Duncan needs help financially and once 500 more people live within it's borders they'll have to fork over more money for police protection- which they don't have.
So why didn't Duncanites vote for amalgamation?
I don't know.

I also heard North Cowichan helped Duncan paint arrows and crosswalks on City Streets because they lack the funds. Lots of stuff is painted on roads here. One of the reasons is there's no winter snow or ice covering the streets, so fewer street signs and more road markings. This takes a bit of getting used to. Crosswalks are everywhere. There's a profusion or arrows pointing this way and that. Many crosswalks are having new lights installed that flash when you push a button to safely stop traffic when one wants to get to the other side.
Sounds like a chicken joke..

Hennaway, (another chicken joke) me running for mayor. That may be a joke too.

Rob Reid for MAYOR
       Why not?

That's my slogan.
I know. It's empty. Void of political promise but then aren't most political promises?
Well, except for Ontario's Ford. He's ripping apart everything he can in Ontario- as promised. I can't believe that asshole is reverting to the 1989 version of sex ed for Ontario's kids.
what the Fuck is it with right-wing conservatives?
I wished they'd run away and start their own country- like in the jungles of South America or someplace.

He's Mad! Absolutely Mad as a Hatter.
So me for Mayor?
It's just conversation.
I am having you on. Pulling your leg. I couldn't stand the political life.
I mean if I was Queen of Canada, that would be fine. I can hear the snickers...
Just stop and no "Gay Queen Jokes"!
As Queen I would enjoy cutting some ribbons like at the opening of a new No Frills store. I'd love watching the Snowbirds fly past for my birthday- which isn't but should be a national holiday even today. I could "rock" a crown or a tiara and I would be a goodly, kind and benevolent Queen. Anyone I didn't like or distrust would be told to royally "piss off". In fact I'd have that on my letterhead:

I am the QUEEN.
Deal with it.

Now, as I think about it, even without an official Queenly crown, I still tell people to piss off. I promised myself I would not be politically motivated living here in the Garden of Eden on Vancouver Island but I have had a couple of conversations with those in command.

I have also made it clear I have no use for the Strata. Usually, Strata is a little band of folks who thrive on telling other folks what to do. In Ontario it's Condominium Boards. Here in British Columbia it's Strata Councils and they suck. Joining the Strata council- for some, is the opportunity for these folks with nothing better to do, to tell people with something better to do, what to do. It's like we're children and have to be told-
"Put that down!" "Don't touch that!" "You can't do this!"

Our home is in a "free-land Strata". We own our property and house but the streets and the common parkway path behind our home is owned by everyone in the development and lorded over by the Strata Council with a paid- yes paid, leader who "manages" all the funds collected from each homeowner which currently amounts to 60 bucks a month.
I hear you saying- "Rob, that sounds like a Dictatorship."
I will let you decide.

Many folks don't understand Strata and believe it is all-encompassing here in our neighbourhood. I try to educate those folks who think that Strata dictates everything we do including the brand of toilet paper we choose.
Not true.
My advice if you were to move to BC?

Now, becoming Mayor would not allow me to make Strata null and void. It doesn't work that way. I have neighbours and friends on the Strata and that's fine. They keep a watchful eye on what is going on.
Our development is pretty.
Nice people live here.
Our house is a showplace- if I do say- and I do but so do folks walking by.
We work hard at the exterior appearance of Palm Villa- and it shows.

So Mayor? Queen?
Hmmmm... Not likely but at least it's something to talk about over coffee.

Monday, July 2, 2018

ROBBLOG #727- Almost a Year Already?

Summer is in full swing here on the Island.

Our first Canada Day Holiday and The Mister and I had 12 for a Bar Bee. It was a blast and I even got my wobbly dining room tabletop repaired.
What a laugh it was!!
Three Gay Guys- all ladies if you will, a heterosexual woman- a nurse in case there were unintended injuries and a straight man- a cobbler, all working together to fix our table.
Can you picture it?

At one point I was asked for wooden toothpicks.
I don't know where the toothpicks are- yet. In fact I have given up the search. Obviously they have disappeared in our Island move. So, I improvised.
You know those tiny, colourful umbrellas that one sticks into summer drinks?
It was all I had and apparently six umbrellas were destroyed in the pursuit of a non-wobbly table top.
We all have to make sacrifices during these times.

The team was well-satisfied with their work in progress, then they made a further request of a large, thick screw...
It may have been the delivery. Maybe the party atmosphere.
I personally felt the huge guffaws resulting from such a request was the fault of the vodka, rum and /or wine. I'd like to say it was Doug and Bert's hats that cause the laughter and titters but they had removed them by that point. Oh, if anyone comes across a red speedo with a maple leaf emblazoned across the pouch, let me know. I'll advise Doug!

Almost a year you say? Already??
While I'm advising folks, how can I convince two mainland Vancouverites- Jim and Karl to buy a F***ing Smartphone. Honestly Ladies, it's 2018 not the middle ages.
By "middle ages", I mean the 1960's"!!

So, here we are working our way through July. I honestly do not know where the time has gone. Next month- on August 22, Tom and I will celebrate one year on this Mediterranean climate-infused Island in our beautiful Canada.
How fortunate are we to live in such a country and specifically such a Garden of Eden.
Adam would be pleased- with or without his fig leaf.

While the east suffers under "exhaustive" heat, Vancouver Island has been temperate- in the mid 20's, with no humidity. We can leave doors flung wide open because we don't have bugs. Well, not exactly true, I have heard reports of "two" mosquitos in the Cowichan.
I mean, how do we live with that? Where's the bug spray?

Our adventures continue here on this Isle,
We meet new friends.
Make new discoveries.
Smirk at winter year round.

Now, an additional two folks from Orillia, Ontario make their home on this Island.
My Gawd!
Soon, Orillia will be nothing short of a Ghost Town.

We apologize for that Orillia.