Mini Vacation

Look, a sculpture garden!  

If you click to see the hi-resolution version of this photo, you might recognize that these long-legged lads are made from G.I. Joe action figures.

I was out in Wellington County with my Dad and Step-mom.  This sculpture garden was adjacent to a fancy-pants art gallery, but we didn't go inside.  There was enough to see in the garden.

We couldn't figure out what was going on with this guy.  He must have an interesting backstory.

This is a mechanical loudspeaker; it says "SHOUT" on the side.  You speak into the mouth part, and then someone else is supposed to go way over there to listen through the red ear. (You can see it in the distance above, and close up below.)

It works remarkably well.  A whisper is clearly audible.

More G.I. Joe guys doing acrobatic stunts.

The day after the sculpture garden visit, we went on a short sight-seeing cruise.  This sign was in the washroom by the ticket office.

I guess they get a lot of Asian visitors who are used to squat toilets.  I have never seen a sign like this before!

There were quite a few large buses, or motor coaches, in the parking lot by the dock.  The narrow road carried on past the driveway, marked with this warning:

We took a walk further along to see if we might discover a graveyard of abandoned buses.  However, the friendly local residents were so open to chatting that by the time we had to turn around and head back to make our departure time, we hadn't gotten very far.

Here are my Step-mom and Dad enjoying the view from the boat.  I didn't take any photos of the view because I (correctly) assumed that there would be dozens available online.  Here's a stolen photo (source) of my favourite part: the world's shortest international bridge.

The big island on the left is Canadian territory, and the little island on the right belongs to the U.S. of A.  I don't know whose idea it was to draw the international boundary in between the two, or why it was done, but it's one of those things that everyone feels they need to take a photo of.  (Except me because I'm clever and lazy. ;-)  If you click on the photo to get the biggest view, you'll be able to spot a Canadian flag on the left side of the bridge and the Stars and Stripes on the right.

Anyway, it was nice to get away from work and the city for a few days and hang out with my family. Those are pretty much the highlights of my trip.  Oh, we also visited an alpaca farm, but the alpacas were all hanging out far away from the fence, in the shade, because it was such a hot day.  So I didn't get any cute alpaca photos.  

Here, just so that you don't feel deprived:

Canada Day at the Farmhouse

Ken and I have new friends who rent a 90-year-old farmhouse on the outskirts of Mississauga.  (It's the white building on the left.)

They invited us and a bunch of other people for a Canada Day BBQ and sleepover.  They're in a community of classic car fanciers, so the parking lot was interesting.

See those clouds in the distance?  By dinnertime they were blowing straight towards us on a chilly wind.  We were sure there would be a thunderous downpour.  But they just blew on past.

 It was one of those potlucks where everyone brings a ridiculous amount of delicious food.  In other words, my favourite type of potluck.  Our hostess provided watermelon punch served straight from the rind.  Isn't that neat?  She's a professional artist, among other things.

Here's the farmhouse kitty.  She wants your attention until she has it.  Then she's shy and runs away.  If you don't try to follow her, she comes back and meows at you.

Movie posters in the kitchen.  Do you think I can find these on iTunes?  They look pretty great.

 Although everyone who came to the party had the option of staying over, most went home.  Those who did stay were originally planning to camp on the lawn, but it was too cold and windy.  (By the end of the evening I had borrowed a down-filled jacket from the hostess.  A down jacket!  On July 1st!  That's Canada for you.)  Fortunately there was enough room inside for everyone to bed down in the guest room, on living room couches, and in the sunroom on an air mattress.

There was a good party going on that night.  Folks were getting their drink on, and there was uninhibited whooping around the fire pit when the fireworks were set off.  

However, amazingly, when I came downstairs in the morning there wasn't a sign of any mess from the night before.  Everything had been tidied up, and, not only that, the table was set for breakfast.  Impressive!

I had thought that we would pack up, move out, and grab breakfast at a diner on the way home, but our hosts were having none of that.  We sat down to scrambled eggs, back bacon, hash browns, and also dug into the leftover cheese tray and veggie sticks from the party.  I even managed to find a red-and-white iced cupcake for dessert.  Breakfast dessert.  Because YOLO, right?

I hope all my fellow Canadians celebrated in equal style, and I wish you 'Mericans a super-great 4th of July!

My Neighbour

Last summer, I watched what seemed to be a romance blooming between my neighbour, a man in his early 60s, and a woman, perhaps slightly younger but still very attractive.  Every day, he would stand in his front yard drinking coffee, and when she walked past he would stop her and they would chat.  She walked south in the morning, and I walked north.  Sometimes, when I was a little bit late, I would pass her closer to my house, carrying a flower (I assume from his garden) and wearing a Mona Lisa smile.

I walked past the same fellow's yard every morning, but I don't recall any interaction between us.  If there was, it wasn't memorable.

After a while, I stopped seeing the beautiful, well-dressed older woman.  I guess she must have moved, or changed her routine so that she no longer has to walk down my street.

The man with the coffee started paying attention to me.

At first we just nodded and smiled at each other as I speed-walked to the bus stop.  I am always in a hurry in the morning, having stayed home until the last possible moment because, work is work.  At some point we added saying "Good morning, nice day," and so forth.  Perfectly fine, normal conversation.

Then a day came when I found him dressed in a shirt and tie, carrying a briefcase.  He popped out of his front gate and fell in step with me.  "Are you going to the bus?  I will walk with you."  Well, alright, fine, it's a free country.  Go ahead.  I chatted politely with him; found out his name and national origin (he came to Canada from Romania 20 years ago, and still has an accent).

It got a little weirder when he walked me right to the door of my bus and patted my shoulder before wishing me a good day.  I felt slightly creeped out.

The day after that, he was waiting for me again.  He conveniently had a client he had to see right near where I work.  Jump in his car!  He'll give me a ride!  Why not?

I suddenly pictured last year's lady, chopped up and frozen in a chest freezer in his basement.  Maybe she didn't move away after all...

Anyway, I said "No thank you" and made polite excuses which were actually 100% true: I prefer to walk; I enjoy the exercise and the time out of doors.  Ken can confirm that I have refused his offers of a ride to work many times.  I'd always rather walk if I can.

I don't want to be one of those women who answers every conversation opener from a man with "I'm married," but in this case my instincts said I should back off.  Happily, for the rest of the week I haven't seen him in his yard.  I can enjoy my morning walk in peace, with no social awkwardness.  Hurray!  I hope it stays that way.

P.S. The charity people picked up my donation last week!  It's all good.

Giving Stuff Away Should Be Easier

Every few months I get a phone call from the Cerebral Palsy Association, asking if I have any gently used household goods that I can donate to their cause.  Often I do, but I hesitate to say "yes" because the "convenient pickup from my home" always seems to turn into a fiasco.

Items need to be boxed or bagged and put out at the front door before 8 am on the pickup date.  I have a history of remembering at 8:15 am, and rushing out with the packages.  Just my luck that I'm first on the route, so by then the truck has already gone by in a huff.

Other things that have been a pain in the butt:

• The day the packages were definitely for sure out on time, but the driver claimed that there was nothing there when he arrived.  I promise you that everything was in order; the boxes and bags were waiting for me on my patio when I got home that day. So, unless the donation items went for coffee in the afternoon, then walked back to my patio before I got home, they were there.
• The day that I got the packages out on time but the pickup truck broke down, so when I got home the packages were all waiting for me AGAIN.

And today, the day that I decided to be a smarty-pants and put the donations out the night before (0% chance of rain) but I forgot about the automated sprinkler system that pops up and soaks our tiny front lawn at 4 am every morning.

*sigh*

Fortunately I am a belt and braces kind of girl, so all the stuff (books and old clothes, mainly) was tied pretty tightly inside waterproof grocery bags.  I noticed what had happened at around 7:20 am, so I had time to drag the wet packages back inside and transfer the stuff to new bags.  (And make a new label that says "CP" for every package.  And stick them on with tape.  And drag everything back outside.)

Let me tell you, if I get home today and the packages are still there (I'm half expecting it) you will hear me growling wherever you are.  

Exposure Therapy

For the sake of L.L. Cool Joe's peace of mind, I am going to try to keep this post free of medical TMIs.  :-)

I have gotten over the mild hysteria triggered by my first sclerotherapy appointment, and I now feel that it is going well.  I had a second appointment already, and it was much easier.  Now that I've gotten past my fear of the unknown, it doesn't seem like that big of a deal.

It's still uncomfortable; my leg is sore; and the compression stocking is so tight that I'm surprised my eyeballs aren't bulging.  But I can handle it.  I'm actually looking forward to my next appointment, in a couple of weeks.  Every appointment is one step closer to sexy legs!

My workplace is going through some major changes, which is kind of stressful, but good in the sense that I have something very distracting to keep my mind off the fact that my stocking is digging a line into the back of my knee whenever my leg is bent.  (Don't worried.  I was measured for the stocking and it was "applied" at my first visit by a professional.  I'm pretty sure that it is supposed to be this tight.  At any rate, my toes haven't turned black and fallen off, even when I wore the stocking overnight, so that's encouraging.)

I always seem to get stuck between two bosses at work, trying to keep both of them happy with me although they disagree vehemently with each other.  Since my step-dad retired, I thought that part of my work life might be behind me, but the same dynamic has sprung up again, just with different bosses.  I suppose it's my destiny.  It's not that bad; I've had years to develop coping mechanisms, and it's a lot easier when there isn't any overlap between work and family.

That's about it for this week!  Later, skaters.  xo

Sclerotherapy: What to Expect

I went for my first vein injections this week.  Super fun!  A couple of you have asked me to describe it because you may be interested in getting this type of treatment yourselves.  So, here is what you can expect.

First, you'll do a bunch of research on the internet.  You'll watch procedures that make you cringe, but the patient always seems to come through okay, which is reassuring.  She (it's always a woman) will have her leg wrapped in a compression bandage, and then "immediately return to normal daily activities".  The videos show her smiling and striding confidently out the front door of the clinic.

The first available appointment will be three weeks after your consultation, so you'll have plenty of time to worry/psyche yourself up for the treatment.  There will also be lots of time for your custom-ordered, mandatory compression stockings to be shipped to the clinic.

When you finally arrive at the clinic for the appointment, I recommend chanting the mantra "Sexy legs.  Sexy legs," over and over again in a soothing tone to remind yourself why you should look forward to having your legs stabbed.  Check at the front counter for your compression stockings.  When you find out that they have not been shipped, try not to freak out.  Ask if you need to reschedule.  You won't want to reschedule.  You've worked too hard to mentally prepare for this moment.  You are ready to do it now!

The clinic staff will tell you it's no problem.  You can use a tensor bandage (which you have to wear for the first 24-48 hours anyway) instead of the stockings.  It just won't look as pretty.  Fine.  Go and sit in the treatment room.  Try to focus on playing Candy Crush on your phone.  Try to forget where you are.

When the doctor and his assistant walk in, explain that you will be distracting yourself with your phone.  Lie on the table on your left side.  That funny sound is the doctor working the sclerotherapy solution up into a foam.  He will say "A little pinch now."  It will hurt as much as any normal injection hurts.

Repeat the last two steps 6 or 7 times.  Keep playing your game.  It's fine.  You're doing great.  Just a little longer.  You'll start to sweat.  Don't drop your phone.  Tell the doctor you're starting to get stressed out.  He'll tell you "Just one more and then we're done."

Sit up.  Feel proud of yourself for surviving and not having a major panic attack. Get your leg wrapped with cotton wads and a tensor bandage.  The assistant will run the tape over the sensitive skin behind your knee so that when you walk it hurts and itches at the same time after a few steps.  Tolerate this, because you're afraid to mess with the dressing.  The assistant will wrap a tensor bandage over the taped cotton, so ineffectively that it will start unravelling inside your pant leg while you're walking home from the bus.  Hurry faster, because if you lose compression the whole treatment might be ineffective and you'll have to do the whole thing over again.  Stop hurrying, because if you put too much pressure on the leg while the bandage is falling off the whole treatment might be ineffective and you'll have to do the whole thing over again.  Try not to freak out.

Rewrap the bandage yourself.  After if falls off again, watch a YouTube video on how to compress your thigh with a tensor bandage.  Rewrap the bandage properly, and feel like a winner.

The bandage will be hot, bulky, and annoying.  You won't be able to walk normally or wear most of your pants.  Realize that the video of the woman striding confidently out of the clinic in the demo video was a total lie.  Be patient.  Eventually the first 48 hours will be over and you'll be able to take off the cotton padding.  And if you're really lucky, when you go for your follow up visit on Tuesday, the compression stockings will have arrived and you can ditch the tensor bandage.

Then get ready to do this whole process over a lot more times because  you put off treatment for so long that your legs need a lot of fixing.  You can do it!  Go you!

How Does My Garden Grow

Vanessa asked after my African violet.  How is it doing?  It's SUPER AMAZING!

Here's one bunch of blossoms.

Here's another.

In fact, the plant is so jam-packed with flowers that you can't see them all superficially.  Like, here's one (of many) hiding inside the outer leaves:

Look at how fuzzy those leaves are!  Soft as a baby bunny.  :-)

This flower, whose name I don't know or have forgotten, is at peak scarlet.

The recently-repotted coleus is so happy,

that this branch is about to flower, I think.  That spiky growth in the centre is going to start putting out blooms that look like tiny purple slippers, if memory serves me correctly from last year.

I think that even my Venus Flytrap is brewing up a flower!  I'm excited because I've had it for less than a year, so I've never seen it bloom.

The long bit sprouted out of nowhere over the past week.

What?  I never told you guys that I have a Venus Flytrap?  Huh.  Well, my Mom decided that it would make a great birthday gift for me last fall.  I named it Audrey, after the plant in Little Shop of Horrors.  

She's a high maintenance plant.  She needs at least 4 hours of direct sunlight per day, which is a bit tricky to arrange in my tightly-packed, mostly-shady condo complex.  I leave the blind open on this window all the time just to accommodate her.  

She will only drink distilled water, which I have to buy specially.  And yes, I do feed her.  I don't go running around chasing after bugs.  Audrey eats bloodworms.

Mmm, yummy. :-p

Because she's so small, I take out one teeny tiny worm, and re-hydrate it in distilled water.  Then I roll it up into an itty-bitty worm meatball (delish!), stick it on the end of a toothpick, and put it into Audrey's most wide-open trap.  Then I wiggle the toothpick, because the trap will only close for live prey. I have to fool her into thinking that the worm is crawling around.  After the trap closes, I pull out the toothpick, and then I have to massage the trap so that it seems like the worm is struggling to get out.  (If the trap isn't well-sealed, Audrey might get indigestion.)

I only have to do this once every 1-2 weeks, but still.  She's a real diva!  None of my other plants are this demanding.

She hibernates for 4 months per year.  It's possible to over-winter a Venus Flytrap outside even in Canada (they are originally from the Carolinas), but because I don't have a proper garden Audrey lived in a plastic bag in my fridge from December through March inclusive.  I wasn't sure if she was going to survive, but she did very well, actually.  During hibernation she doesn't eat and barely needs to be watered.

If she grows big enough to re-pot, I'm going to have to make a special trip to buy sphagnum moss for her, because she's too special for regular potting soil, of course.  *sigh*  My Mom had no idea that Audrey would be this demanding when she bought her for me.  But that's okay.  Audrey is pretty cool.  She's worth a little extra attention.

(Disclaimer for L.L. Cool Joe at al: I apologize for any offence caused by humorous references to gender stereotypes in this post.  They were used for comedic purposes only, and do not reflect my actual views.  For the record, I know a lot of high-maintenance humans, and the hyper-demanding ones include every gender.  If Audrey ever opens up one of her traps and clarifies a different pronoun preference, I promise I will honour it. ;-)