Seasonal Affect Disorder during the summer

This has been the summer of rain.  I feel like a member of the clan living on Venus in Bradbury's short story.  We haven't seen the sun in so long that, when it comes out, our eyes are temporarily blinded and we shrink back to hide in the shadows. 

If we don't start seeing the sun for an extended period, I'm going to go postal. 

The only reason people line in Saskatchewan is for the sun.  Saskatchewan is flat and cold and in the middle of nothing, but it gets sun.  All the time.  It's the only thing that makes it worth the -40 degree winters (both C and F) and the +40 degree summers (105 F) bearable. 

We have not had a great deal of good weather since... last September.  The day of our wedding was excruciatingly hot and since then... it's been blah and rainy and meh.  FOR A YEAR.

If I wanted to live on the West Coast, I would move there.  If I wanted to be trapped in the grey skies of depressing and ugh, I would be fine.  But I'm not.   I'm weather depressed.  Realistically, we all are.  Everyone I have talked to says the same thing:

Sun, Sun, Mr. Golden Sun, please shine down on me.

Or I'm going to kill someone.

Does the brochure repell bears?

While camping in the boonies, we were warned against bears.  At the entrance to the park, we were inundated with pamphlets warning us about how to prevent bears entering our camp site, how to properly store food, etc.

We decided to go for a little walk once the torrential rain stopped for a short time.  Trapped in the camper had made it so we were desperate for something that didn't have a roof.  Wandering along, we found a "nature path" and decided to brave it. 

Look! Nature!

Then we saw the sign at the foot of the path. 

It says "Remember, you are in bear country!  Do you know what to do if you encounter a black bear on the trail? If not, grab a brochure in one of the park offices." 

Are you kidding me?  You couldn't have put something better than "grab a brochure"??  I am about to step into the wild and put my life on the line and all you can suggest is that I should go grab a brochure.  I'm sure that it would have been too hard to write "Make noise.  If it approaches, stay still." or something along those lines.  Instead, it's told me to grab a brochure.

Unless the brochure is heavy enough I can beat the crap out of the bear, I don't think it's going to be particularly helpful.

I went camping and no one died

Despite my pouty face from last week, I did go camping and didn't kill anyone.  I know, I'm surprised too. 

If you know anything about me, it's that I hate camping.  I have always hated camping and you can thank my father for that.  As children, my father would pack us all into the van (with my mother gagged and tied in the back) and drag us out to "nature" for the weekend.  Despite being +40 degrees all summer, the moment we arrived at our destination, it began to ran and didn't stop.  Thus, we all sat in our tent for 3 days being bored and fighting.  At least that's how I remember it.  I am sure my father will have different memories.

To this day, I hate camping.  Why anyone would choose to go somewhere there are no toilets, to sleep on the ground, cook things poorly on a fire that won't start, and sit where the mosquitoes will eat you is beyond me.  For me, camping had damn well better have room service.  I'M A DELICATE FLOWER, PEOPLE.

So we (me, The Guy, his friend and her husband) arrived on Sunday at Duck Mountain and set up camp.  It took about an hour to try and sort through everything.  We had a camper (a 70s motor home complete with shag carpet) and had filled it to the brim.  Finally we had everything settled and got the fire going.  A bottle of Zippo later and it was a nice blaze.  We were joined by some friends and had a great evening talking and laughing.

I should have known it was going too well.

We had heard it might rain on the Monday, so when we went to bed, we pulled the chairs under the awning as a precaution.  Then it started to rain.  It rained for 17 hours without stopping.  It rained cats, dogs, polar bears, and elephants.  It rained until we thought the only way out of the park would be the boat we brought with us.  And so, for the entire day and night, we sat in the camper.  Four adults in one room.  With one place each to sit.

It was good that our friend was along because that's the only reason I wasn't the whiniest person in the camper.  We were all miserable and hungry and tired and dirty and bored and OMG TAKE ME HOME.  By Tuesday afternoon the rain let up.  Our campsite was flooded and there was 2 inches of rain in the bottom of the fire pit, but the boys were making us stay, so we were going to enjoy it.  (Please read "enjoy" as "complain until they either killed us or took us to a hotel")  We started a fire again after pillaging neighbouring abandoned campsites for dry wood and used another container of Zippo.  After a nice time of hanging out by the fire (thanking God that we weren't in the bloody camper at the moment) we headed to bed with the promise that if there were even the slightest sign of clouds we were going home.

No such luck.  Wednesday was clear and warm, so we knew we were stuck.  We finally got the hot water in the camper running, so showered off the grime and some of the grouch.  Sue and I spent the day by the fire reading our books while the guys went out on the boat.  We had a great day.  Thursday was much of the same and we thought we could actually get the hang of this thing.  Except that we really didn't want to.

Friday morning, Sue was up before the sun could remember which direction it was coming from.  We were packed and on the road before 9am.  As we headed out, we made sure the guys understood that, while we'd had a good time for the most part, we were NEVER DOING THIS AGAIN.

Instinct

The blades of grass scarcely moved as she slid through them towards her intended target. She knew her purpose, her mission, and never hesitated to fulfill it. She did not stalk her prey or storm towards the mark, but slowly prowled. One foot then the other, a slow and silent deadly dance.

She steadily approached, though made no ripple in the grass to show her location. She had done this many times before and did not even have to spare a thought for it. Watch the location of the prey, ensure the prey does not take notice, glide towards the prey quickly and efficiently, take the prey down.

Before the animal knew there was a change in the air, she had made her move. Deadly, straight for the throat. She heard a gasp and, giving her head a quick shake, a crack, ensuring the other creature's demise. Another successful hunt.

Dropping her prey to the ground, she prepared to feast. Her hunger had not reached a point of desperation, however she knew it was time. She needed to feed regularly to keep up her strength, and also because her body knew no differently. She hunted, fed, slept, and lounged all with the same innate skill and knowledge. It was what she was.

Behind her, she heard a small mewl. Abruptly, she swung around -- instantly aware and on guard. Ready to protect herself and her newly acquired lunch, she stiffened. And saw.

There, in the grass, sat the child of this animal she slew. A young, defenseless one whose only hope in this world -- protector, guardian, provider -- was taken away. There was no choice. This orphan was of her making and she had to deal with what she had created. She went towards the baby without hurry, knowing what she had to do.

The babe trembled at her approach, not fully understanding what had happened or what was about to. The hunter, the one who slew the mother, came to where the little one sat.

Gently, gracefully and quietly, she lay down and offered the babe herself. Her warmth and milk were all she had to make right her actions. Her own meal now forgotten, she gave herself to the care of the newborn knowing she owed the babe that much. The little creature moved towards the hunter and gently nestled in beside.


**Inspired by this video (about half way through). Written just to see if I could.

Baby, it's cold outside

I know people in our fair province talk about weather all the time. But when you live here, it takes over. The weather in Saskatchewan is like a significant other, or an ever present family member.

Of course, this is a person you don't like all the time. One who some times is the greatest friend ever, but who most likely will ruin whatever plans you have without warning. One who's constantly changing things on you. Making plans and changing them, good mood then bad mood.

And so, for us, weather is a topic of interest. Like today. After temperatures just above freezing for weeks, we thought we had finally tempered the beast. Some of us thought we might get through the winter without too much trouble. That's when Saskatchewan weather gets it's kicks.

Within 8 hours, we'd gone from a gentle cool breeze and slightly colder temperatures to *WHAM* "don't-leave-the-house-because-the-car-won't-start-and-even-if-it-does-it-won't-drive" C-O-L-D.

I often wonder why my ancestors decided to settle here. The closest I can figure is that they came in June, found some land, built a house, and then it snowed and they realized they couldn't get out. It's the only thing that makes sense.

It is currently -30 Celsius (-22 F). Not so bad, right? Oh, that's not all. It is actually that temp. But it feels like -43 C (-45 F). Seriously. How can it do that to us? No wonder we feel the need to say "IT IS SO COLD". It is. THAT COLD.

Here's an example. Below is a picture (albeit a poor one) of the dogs getting ready to go for a walk. At this point they haven't been outside for 2 days. So, I bundled them up (two jackets for Vicki, one each for the others), bundled myself up, and went outside.

Less than a block later, Maddy needed to be picked up because her feet were too cold. Half a block later, I could put her down, but Vicki needed up. Half a block after that, both Montel and Madison wanted up so we headed back. We hardly made it. Montel was rotating through which leg he would keep in the air every few steps. We made it to the door and all three were shaking. They glared at me as if to say "WHY DID YOU DO THAT TO US?"





The answer is easy. I hate them.

How I know it's winter

You would think I would be certain because of the snow on the ground. You would be mistaken. The reasons I know it is winter has little to do directly with the amount of snow on the ground. My dogs are all the warning I need to know it is time to hunker down and wait for spring.

Reason 1: I could tell it was starting to be winter when I called the dogs for a walk and Madison left the room. I don't know why this takes me by surprise every year, but it always does. For 6 months of the year, Madison loves walks. Then it starts to get cold. Abrupt 180 and now she looks at me like I'm ripping out her womb over and over again. I can force her outside on her leash and pull her down the street for her walk, but it becomes a bit tedious and, besides, the neighbours laugh at me.

Reason 2: At night, Madison demands to be let out at 4:30 am. She promptly runs to the middle of the yard and rolls in the snow. Stretching out on her back and rubbing back and forth in the snow for ages, it's like she's saying "It's too haaaaaaaaaaawt inside. Why is it so haaaawwwt?" Then she runs back in the house, into my bed, and throws snow all over my nicely warmed spot.

Reason 3: Vicki has started eating poop again. The rest of the year, she's just not that into it, but once the frost hits the ground, the poop is fair game. Poop-sicles. Poop-sicles for everyone!! We only have about one month before she starts putting her head under the other dogs bums so she can get the poop fresh from the source. I hate this dog.

Reason 4: Sound carries best over a fresh blanket of snow. This means that every dog in the neighbourhood can hear every other dog in the neighbourhood. It also means that some dog 15 kilometres away sees a cat and, 10 minutes later, my dogs are barking about it. Nothing like just being on the edge of sleep when all three dogs jump up and scream like I've stabbed them with something sharp.

I wish it were spring. Of course, then I will have mud to contend with.

Surprise! Snow!

I was out walking the dogs when the first flake hit me. I panicked and realized fall was officially over. It was snowing. But, I thought, at least it will just be a light snow and likely melt as soon as it hits the ground. Yeah, I was wrong. One flake turned into 10 million flakes and my car is covered in 6" of snow.

Again, I thought: This is not good. I am not prepared for this. I haven't even picked poop in the backyard yet. I still have to mow the lawn again!!

You know what? The weather doesn't care. It doesn't care if I am not prepared, it just does what it wants.

Now, I know it's not a huge shock that we got snow. It happens every year just like clock work or the change of the seasons... oh, yeah. I guess I should have been prepared. However, the first snow of the season is much like the first day of your period. You know it's coming, you know approximately when, and yet, it's always kind of a surprise. Now? Really? But, I'm not ready yet!

So now I have to find my shovel in the garage, find my rakes under the snow, and somehow find my front steps. They seem to have disappeared.

The Innocent

This weekend has been a bad one. Four days of work filled with cases and people who have ensured I work hard for every cent I get paid. Four days which convince me I do not get paid enough by any means. It has been a long weekend, an exhausting weekend and I cannot be happy enough to be finished.

Tonight, while driving The Guy home after supper, I saw a little gopher trying to cross the road. He darted quickly from one side at breakneck speeds in front of traffic. Too late he saw the car and panicked. He stopped and backtracked. You could see the wheels in his mind turning, desperate to get out of his situation and powerless to do anything about the inevitable. He lunged in front of the car again in an attempt to make the distance safely. He fell, tripping under the carriage of the car, spun and dropped to the ground. The car continued on ahead likely unaware of the drama unfolding in front of it.

It was mere seconds that passed as I watched horrified. I slammed on the breaks and screamed, "No! No! No!" I started to hyperventilate and didn't know what to do. My hands gripped the steering wheel until my fingers became numb. I watched his little body die a slow and violent death on the side of the road. Cars were coming up behind me, so I reluctantly started to drive again. Tears were brimming in my eyes and I could hardly see.

The Guy didn't know what had gone on to make me stop the car in the middle of the road. I explained about the little gopher, but he had not seen it. We drove on in silence while I grieved the painful death of an animal best known for being roadkill. I'm not sure The Guy knew why I was so upset. I'm not sure if I knew.

Curse you, Spring!

This time of year is cause for celebration. Winter has finally given up, taken it's ball and gone home pouting. Spring is finally with us - odd temperments, changing moods and unpredictable tantrums aside - and brought with it warmer weather. The birds are chirping, the grass is growing and the trees are blooming.

You would think I wouldn't be able to find anything wrong with this. You would be wrong.

First, let me say that yard work is of the devil. The devil, I say. Nothing good can come of it. Last year the tree almost did me in before I won and beat it to near death. I thought that would be the end of my troubles. I was wrong.

This year I decided to get to the yard before I had 7 foot weeds and couldn't get the mower over the 4 foot grass. I had the blade to the lawn mower sharpened. I changed the oil and reattached the blade. I set out to mow the lawn. I hate mowing the lawn at the best of times. This was not one of them. I pulled on the chord to start the mower. Nothing. Pulled on it some more. Nothing. Pulled on it again. Wrenched my shoulder out of it's socket and watched as my lifeless arm swung useless. Well, not quite, but I did damage my rotator cuff again.

Second, with spring comes birds. Birds who chirp outside my window and horribly early hours of the morning. And, some insane person made it illegal to shoot birds in city limits. Who thought of that?

Third, and most importantly, spring brings... shorts. And tank tops. And... ugh... the expectation that regular shaving is necessary. So far, I have not given in to the temptation. However, I was wearing a Tshirt and lifted my arm and saw The Guy's face cringe in horror. Then, when I moved my arm (I believe to threaten to punch Vicki if she licked me one more time), Ky confirmed it by saying "You have the hairiest armpits in the world."

Sigh. I guess winter truly is over.

An excercise in futility

Our lawn tends to be a catch-all for the trash and leaves of the neighbourhood. We have a huge lilac bush between ourselves and the neighbours (it belongs to them and is only trimmed on our side) which catches garbage like honey with flies. I have been staring at it all winter cursing the free range garbage permanently trapped there by the snow banks.

Since the snow has effectively melted, Ky and I decided to rake the front yard. I hate yard work with a passionate hatred of a thousand suns and moons. My parents hated yard work too and as soon as us children were old enough to hold our heads up independently we had a rake in our hands to "help out". I have decided raking is "a man's job". Not because I can't do it, but because I hate it and thus don't want to do it. Raking is a man's job much like I feel dishes and cleaning are.

So, Ky and I spent the worst part of an hour and a half raking and gathering and pulling garbage out of the trees. We were exhausted about three strokes in, but pushed on. Finally we were done, four garbage bags full and nary a leaf in sight. We collapsed in the house and opened the doors and windows to let the spring air come in. It was not even 5 minutes later when a large gust of wind came along. Bringing with it two pieces of newsprint, a McD's cup and half the leaves from every house on the block.

I've decided to tear out the trees, and cover the whole yard in concrete.

Today I was out in the backyard with the dogs. It seemed like a good idea at the time, but turned out to be much colder than I thought. It is amazing how deceitful the weather can be at this time of year. It looks so sunny and lovely until you step out the door and get knocked on your butt by a gale force wind. But I digress.

I went out to the backyard to pick poop. It's much like picking flowers but with a less pleasant aroma. The problem with winter is two fold - one, the poop contrasts very well with the white snow and thus means you cannot avoid looking at the poop for very long, and two, the poop is frozen into the ground and thus requires a lot more work to dispose of. I use a garden trowel. I mean, I'm not going to garden with it so it might as well be used for something.

While I was out completing this heinous task, the dogs played amongst themselves. Maddy brought her ball and dumped it at my feet so I would be distracted enough to realize I was not paying attention to her. Montel stood far enough away from Maddy that he would have a better chance of catching the ball if I did happen to throw it as he would have a head start. And Vicki. Well, Vicki went straight to the fence and dug as though she was attempting to escape from prison. I am pretty sure she is going to dig a hole under the fence into Jason's yard and made a break for it.

Vicki must have been digging for 10 minutes or so when I realized she was trying to unearth something. Digging, scratching and biting at something that seemed embedded in the snow. Curious, I wandered over to see what she was so desperate to get her hand (er, paws) on. There it was. Barely peeking out of the snow. The tip of a stuffed duck's head.

In from the cold

***Warning - picture of my upper thigh to follow. I was taking the shot myself, so I look particularly huge. Don't judge me. I'm a big girl.***




I am an oddity. Yes, you are aware of this, but I can take it to levels you have never known. It's my gift. And my curse. Sigh.

Most people I know are allergic to things. My brother has milk and egg whites, my one sister has metal and dogs, and the other has strawberries, orange juice and the like. I have never been allergic to anything edible. (Except things I don't like. Or that make my tummy hurt, but that's from the old ulcer, not the allergy.) I am allergic to one thing.

I'm allergic to the cold.

You would think this is insane and I must be the only one, but it runs in the family. My mom had it and at least one sister has it. The cold gives us hives. If not properly bundled, certain extremities develop hives. Big, nasty, itchy, swollen hives.

So, when I am out for more than 10 mins, I have to wear long johns. This week, I forgot. And here is what happened.

If you look closely (although, you likely don't want to) you can see the line where my jacket stops protecting me. This is about 5 mins after the walk, so it had a bit to warm up by then. The hives are just starting above my knee and creeping upwards. It takes at least an hour or a hot shower (baths are way too painful at this point) for it to resume normal functioning.

Oh how I love winter. My anscestors must have hated me when they chose to live here. It jumps from -40 Celcius to + 40 celcius in a matter of 6 months. I can't win.

My other fun fact is, I burn like a mofo in the summer. That's why my favourite season is the three weeks of fall we have. It's the only time I'm not at risk of serious damage.

**** Edit: DO NOT click on the picture. It will take you to the biggest view of my thigh ever to exist. It is not good. It will burn your retinas. ***

And we're only two months in

It is too cold here to do anything. So cold the dogs don't even want to go outside long enough to go to the bathroom. Madison figures that is why we have a basement. Careful where you step.

But because it's too cold to go out very much, the dogs have a lot of expendable energy. This means a lot of chewing, whining and fighting. Usually I can give them bones to chew, the ball to chase or something to distract them. Tonight I had plans, so I figured they were on their own.

The dogs have been having a bad night. Montel ate one of my shoes. Vicki ate frozen poop and Madison ate a bowl of peanuts.

This is going to be a long winter.

Looks how I feel

The tree that has caused me nothing but grief took a beating today. I went outside with the plan to rake the leaves. However, I was distracted by the ugly tree taking up so much room.

So, I decided to cut off some of the smaller branches to prune it down. But then some of the bigger branches annoyed me. So, I got out the hand saw. And I started hacking.

Suddenly, I was taking down entire branches and swinging at the tree with an axe. Oh, note to self - DO NOT USE THE AXE. YOU DON'T KNOW HOW.

In the end, I cut off as much as was humanly possible and threw the remains over the fence into the back alley to be disposed of later. (Or to be set on fire by local hoodlums.) I would have finished dealing with it, but I forgot about my tendinitis and by the time I was done sawing, I now can't lift my arm.

And, I forgot to rake the leaves.

Two examples of why I am a dork.

I am an organizer and a planner. I love plans. Sketches, lists, maps, etc. I love them. I have been doing a lot of planning lately, so I am happy as a pig in mud. However, planning brings out my inner dorkiness. (I was going to say inner dork, but that could have been problematic.)

Reason number one why I'm a loser:

I have been planning on buying a car when I get things settled with the new mortgage and things. I will be in half the amount of debt and thus can do some things I have wanted to for awhile. So, I am car shopping. I am currently in the researching phase and here is what I've created.



Why, yes, it is a spreadsheet. From this, I created a system of check marks for things I liked about each. The top four in check marks are the ones I am going to test drive this summer. I have picked the Matrix, the Vibe, the Yaris and the Versa. It's going to be awesome.

Reason two why I'm a loser:

Now I have that decided, I moved on to my backyard. My Dad bought the house in November (well, I picked it out and he agreed) so we never saw what the yard was actually like. Imagine our surprise in the spring when the yard looked like it had once been covered in rock. Now it was a mix of rock and dirt with no real rhyme or reason. I talked to a neighbour who confirmed it. My yard had once been covered in rock but with no underlay. Then, when the weeds took over - as weeds are apt to do, the people rototill-ed it. Now, I have a mix of red rock and dirt. Every home owners dream. So, I made a plan.

Here is what my yard looks like now.


And this is what I want it to look like.



There is a place by the garage for my lounge chair. There are larger trees at the back for more privacy. There is a gate into the yard from the parking lane rather than having to go behind the garage and all the way around. There is another path through the yard - just for looks - and some rock around the tree that is there because there is nothing grosser than picking dead apples from the lawn. There are raspberry canes along the fence and pretty plants that you don't have to take care of and grow like weeds. It is all beautiful and I love it. It is WAY more than I can afford, but it is a plan. It may always remain that way, but that's okay too.

Going green

I've been listening to people talk about Al Gore's upcoming visit to our fair city. He will be talking about the global warming, environmental thingies and how it affects us here in the Prairies.

Everyone is very excited. Most of them compost. Most of them talk ferverantly about environmental issues. Most of them recycle faithfully into blue bins that strangers pick up off their front lawns. Most of them drive SUVs.

I've been thinking about going to listen to him speak. Not because I'm particularly enviro-friendly. I try to recycle, but sometimes I just throw out the damn stuff.

I'm considering going only because I find Al Gore oddly sexy. Is that bad of me?

Summer come back to me

I have deemed it officially summer in Saskatchewan. Yes, we had a blizzard less than a week ago, but the snow is all gone now and I am back in the place where I belong - on the deck in the back yard, lounging with the puppies.

I had forgotten how much I loved being out here. How much better behaved the dogs are after an hour of playing ball and rolling in the grass. How much more relaxed I am sitting in the breeze and wandering the Internet.

Yes, the house is a mess. Yes, I need to sweep the living room floor of the weeks worth of dirt the pups have dragged in. Yes, I'm supposed to be grocery shopping. Yes, I'm supposed to be going on date three this afternoon. Yes, the deck still needs sweeping and the lawn still needs to be raked, but for now I am pretending that none of this is the case and instead am relishing the moment to relax.

I can't wait until I can bring out the paddling pool again!!