New Year's Resolutions?

Make New Year's resolutions? Not me! The usual suspects come up every year: watch my diet, exercise more, get more organized. January starts out well and then it falls apart the rest of the year.

Exercise gyms are busiest in January with the New Year's resolutions crowd who want to lose weight or get in shape. The reality is that only 1 out of every people with a gym membership regularly uses it.

For 2009 I'd like to complete the first draft and edit the novel I started in November. Realistic? I think so. Set aside some time daily to work on it and in a couple of months I'll be on my second draft.

Happy New Year everyone!

The bird attack of my dream

Last night I had the strangest dream. The dream itself was rather boring. It was the ending that abruptly woke me up.

Kerry and I were in a conference center or some similar type building with many meeting rooms. We weren't actually attending a conference but were there on some other business. I remember walking past the washrooms and there was huge line up outside the ladies. I don't know why that is. Every event I go to has long line ups for the ladies washrooms. We walked past it and came to a dining room where the students had finished lunch. There was still some people in the room but most had left, presumably the huge line up for the ladies! There was another smaller room off this one and several of the attendees were in there talking to an instructor. For some reason Kerry went into this room to talk to him too.

I was left standing in the nearly deserted lunch room and feeling kind of thirsty. I spotted a couple of those machines that dispense juice or pop on the other side of the room. I was looking at them trying to figure out if they had orange juice or apple juice but I was too far away to see. So I was just making up my mind to walk across the room and check it out when all of a sudden a bird comes flying across the room and lands on my left shoulder and is batting at me with its wings. I'm not sure if it was a sea gull, dove, or pigeon. I remember it was mostly white or grey.

Anyway I woke up then and started yelling at Kerry about the bird in the room and get it out, get it away from me. He told me there was no bird in there. I said a bird just came and got me on my left side, coincidentally the side closest to him. He continues to explain that he's been awake for awhile and no birds have flown into the bedroom.

So then I asked him if he was touching me, brushing my face or something to get me to wake up, but he claims he didn't.

I just hate having those dreams where I wake up suddenly and quickly. It was after 8am and I had to get up anyway, but I sure wish I'd slept a little longer.

An Expensive Cup of Coffee

A couple of mornings ago Kerry and I drove to our local Tim Horton's located inside a shopping mall. As we made our left hand turn and drove into the mall's entrance we noticed 2 police officers standing at the side of the driveway. They didn't appear too interested in us and we continued in and parked. We wondered what they were up to and Kerry figured they were doing a seat belt check. A good spot trying to catch the early morning commuters coming for their coffee. And once someone has turned into the Clover Crossing Mall entrance there is no turning around. Then we noticed the 3rd police officer in the parking lot writing out a ticket to the male driver. We went inside so Kerry could get his extra large coffee double double and his breakfast sandwich and my mocha and muffin. As we were leaving we saw the young man in the truck leave the police oficer and enter the Tim Horton's drive thru. Not buckling up is a $125 fine. Now that was one expensive cup of coffee!

November 18 update

Just under 38,000 words to go. Its tough. I'm at work all day, then I have dogs to walk, and then drive out to the farm to feed my horses. Back home, dinner time, and then some writing time. I'm going to have to average over 3,000 words a day for the rest of the month. I don't think I'll make it, but I'll have a good head start and just keep going in December. And yes, this is bad writing. Bad diaglogue. But the story is starting to take shape and I think with lots of rewriting there might be potential here one day.

November 15 update

I need to pick up the pace a bit. 40,000 words left to go. Divided by 15 days left in the month. You do the math. I can't! Never my strong subject in school! At least its a good start, but bad dialogue.

Writing update for November 11

Its been a slow day in the writing department. 44,000 words to go before month end.

Remembrance Day Service November 11 2008

We headed down to the cenotaph in Cloverdale with the rain only a light drizzle. It had let up from a torrential downpour a couple of hours earlier. So it kept with the theme around here that it always rains on Remembrance Day.

It was a nice service with a parade by veterans, RCMP in color serge, and various cadet groups. The typical introductions, singing O Canada, hymns, laying of the wreaths, and bugle call preceeding two minutes of silence at eleven o'clock. Then the final wreaths were laid, singing God Save The Queen, and the parade route back to the Cloverdale legion.

There were three different groups of airplanes that did fly pasts during the ceremony.

In memory of all those who lost their lives serving our country and those who continue to fight for freedom in far off countries. We wear the poppies for you today.

Monday's update for November 10

NoNoWriMo - just under 45,000 words left to write!

Tomorrow is Remembrance Day. We'll be wearing our poppies and going to the cenotaph for the services and remembering our vets.

In memory of all who lost their lives providing us with the freedoms that we live with today.

Writing a bad novel

November is National Novel Writing Month. This is a challenge to all writers is to write a 50,000 word novel before the end of the month. After thinking about it for a week, I decided I'm in.

After my first day (yesterday) I wrote about 2000 words. Today I've written another 500. Its a really bad start. The object is not to worry about how bad it is. Just keep writing until the goal of 50,000 words has been written. And then its edit time. Or garbage time. Or seeing as how these are computers, hit the delete button time.

My novel is something I've thought about for awhile. A husband and wife who solve murder mysteries. Kind of like Murder She Wrote, but a duet not a single. I was a big fan of Jessica Fletcher. I'm planning a series. Its just getting started that's the hard part.

Hmm, or maybe this has already been done. Anyone remember Hart to Hart?

I need to pick up the pace. Just over 47,000 words to go.....

Fresh Produce

A few years ago I read a rather testy letter to the editor of the paper in response to a letter another man had written. To the effect he purchased his fresh fruits and vegetables from a produce store instead of from a grocery store. The letter writer angrily stated she was "glad" he could afford the fresh produce from the shop. But people like her on budgets had to go to the chain grocery stores for lower prices and often less than fresh produce.

I usually shop at produce stores and its my experience that their produce is lower priced than grocery stores and fresher. On occasion the chain grocery stores have a sale on something and underprice the independent produce stores but for the most part I see much lower prices.

There are several produce stores near where I live. Several of them are on farms and sell strawberries, blueberries, and raspberries while they are in season. Some of them have tables set up in the driveway while others are in closed areas, such as a remodeled shed or garage. Some of them sell other produce as well. Many of these smaller operations are open during the summer while the corn or berries are ripening. Other produce stores are larger and are open year round bringing in their wares from wholesalers in the winter months. In the summer time there are at least ten fresh produce stores within a ten minute drive of my house.

A 10 pound bag of potatoes for .99 cents is a pretty good deal and not one that I'd see in a grocery store. I love grapes and can usually get them for half the price they're selling for in the grocery stores. I sometimes go over to the flea market held in the local fairgrounds and wholesalers have all kinds of produce for good prices. I bought three bunches of asparagus for $5 and I bought a big bag of mixed nuts for $5.

Instead of heading to the grocery store the next time you need tomatoes or apples, look around for a local fresh produce store. You might be quite pleasantly surprised by the prices and the quality.

Going Shopping

When I was a kid I loved going shopping with my mother. Grocery shopping was the best. But there was a mall not too far from our house called Guildford. Anchored by the now defunct Woodward's department store, this was a 2 story outdoor shopping with a bakery, pet store, book store, and many other shops I've long since forgotten. The outdoor walkway was covered so if it was raining we didn't get too wet. There was also a movie theatre and below that a roller skating rink.

But changes were coming in the early 70's. The new concept for Guildford mall was to enclose the shopping area so that everything would be undercover. Eventually Eaton's was built on the other side of the road and a covered walkway with shops went over the street. The roller rink closed down and became a furniture store and over the years the space was broken down into several smaller stores. Guildford became one of the biggest and best shopping malls in the Greater Vancouver Area. I used to go there several times a month through the late 70's and early 80's.

However my shopping habits have changed in the past 10 years thanks to the Internet. I can get most of my Christmas shopping done in November. These days when I go shopping I don't head to the mall. I go to some big box stores but most of my shopping is done online. Even grocery shopping I go to local produce stores once a week or so and do the majority of my grocery shopping once a month or even less.

As for things like clothes and household necessities I buy them as I need them and I don't normally head to the mall for buying. Recently I was part of a discussion about shopping at malls. The consensus is that the majority of people in shopping malls these days are seniors, teenagers, and mothers with young children. I had to think back to the last time I was in a mall, and it was quite some time ago. I'd run in on my way home from dining out because I knew a card shop was in there and I had to buy a birthday card.

The Internet has changed our shopping habits. Retailers on the Internet do not have to pay the high prices of leasing space in a mall. A website is a fraction of that cost.

Its time to get on the wave and that's why we opened our online store. We sell make up, health care products like shampoo, toothpaste, and vitamins. We also sell Perfect water, energy drinks, weight loss products and snacks. In addition we've partnered with over 500 stores and refer people to shop online. Check us out: www.ditto4u.ca

My winning poetry entry

Ten years ago I used to subscribe to an online writer's ezine called Inscriptions. Unfortunately it is no longer in existence. The woman who owned it sold it to another woman who sporadically published it, changed its name to something I've long since forgotten, and continue to sporadically publish it. The content was never the same and I unsubscribed. I have no idea if its still active

But back in the Inscriptions days the owner used to run monthly contests with various prize packages. Then early one year, in time for Valentine's, it was announced the world's worst poetry contest. The prizes were a $50 gift certificate for Amazon.com and a box of chocolates. My two favorite things! Books and chocolates! I had to enter, but I'm no poet. But still, this was a contest for bad poetry. Maybe I had a shot. So I borrowed the cadence from an old Christopher Marlowe poem "The Passionate Shepherd to His Love". It took me 15 minutes to write. Then I talked myself out of waiting and coming back to it later to make any changes. This was supposed to be a bad poem. So I emailed my entry immediately. And yes, I won. I received an email with the code for the $50 to spend at Amazon. I was disappointed that I didn't actually receive chocolates. What I received was a $20 gift code for Godiva chocolates web site. Imagine my disappointment when I went to their site and found that they only ship to the lower 48 states. No good to a Canadian winner! :(

But I had an aunt who lived in California so I used my gift code and had a box of chocolates sent to her, much to her great surprise when she received them in the mail.

And here is my winning entry:

The Forgetful Maiden to Her, her, her... (with apologies to Christopher Marlowe)

Come live with me and find my glove
Your reward is my undying love.
For I am forever losing things,
I swear my possessions all sprouted wings.

And we will sit upon the docks,
And watch the waves crash on the rocks.
My love for you is like these flumes,
A rose in summer that always blooms.

No cap of flowers, no buckles of gold,
Help find my glasses before I grow old.
They're lost forever and that makes me sad,
Please find them for me and make me glad.

Keep an eye out for my gown of fine wool,
Then we'll enjoy a swim in the pool.
And I'll gaze adoringly into your eyes,
Find my things, and I'm your prize.

I'll give you pleasures all year round
If you brave the snow and find my lost hound.
I opened the door and he bounded out,
If you bring him back, I'll nevermore pout.

Every night we'll sing and dance,
Come live with me and take a chance.
Incredible delights await you my love,
But first find my glasses, my hound and my glove!

The Small Project that turned Big

The upstairs of our house has been a renovator's battleground all of October. After our discovery of the hardwood floors and ripping out the carpets, things were put on hold for a bit. Ultimately the advice we were given was that it would be less costly to refloor with laminate than try to repair the original hardwood. So we purchased a nice Yukon cherry, enough laminate to do the entire upstairs less the bathroom and kitchen.

Mainly due to Kerry's construction trailer being stolen during the night of October 1. The trailer was recovered the next day, but less $20,000 in tools that were inside. Fortunately all the tools had been diarized in a database with serial numbers and photos and this information was given to the police and our insurance company. But its been a real pain replacing these items and of course it will take months for Kerry to realize exactly everything that was missing until he starts looking for something. Fortunately the more expensive tools were inside the house due to the renovations.

Kerry proceeded to tear down all the living room walls so he could rewire the plugs and light switches. Plus he was never happy with the way the walls looked. Not a good drywall and mudding job.

Unfortunately he undertook this endeavor while I was at work and gave me no advance notice. I came home to a house and contents completed coated in drywall dust from the deconstruction. There wasn't much I could do. Kerry had already removed all the bedroom doors in anticipation of receiving the new ones and he'd removed my closet doors so all my clothes were coated in dust. The worst was the grand piano coated in dust. That is horrible to clean. I'm probably going to need a tuner to remove the keyboard and give it a good cleaning.

And then there was more dust as he cut and installed the drywall, mudded, sanded, and repeated. I kept the kitchen and bathroom as clean as I could and let the other rooms go.

But finally an end is in sight. The dining and living areas have been painted. My new walk in closet is painted and just ready for the laminate floor. The dining room and living room have the new laminate floor installed. I have been doing a lot of cleaning of the drywall dust and things are looking better. Our new doors are not installed yet, but they are in the workshop, already painted, just waiting to be installed. Kerry is currently putting trim around the doors and other openings in the dining and living areas. With the exception of the office we plan to have the painting completed and the floors done by mid-November.

Its looking good.

A small project that quickly escalated into a large one.

Halloween Recap

It rained all day on Halloween. But by late afternoon it had slacked off to a drizzle and for early evening, prime trick or treating time, the rain had stopped, though it was certainly cold and wet outside.

We had about 25 to 30 kids stop by for treats, and some of them were doubles. A couple of times we were out on our covered sundeck doing some work and called them to come back for more treats.

So undoubtedly the dampness kept many of the kids away.

Now what should I do with the leftover goodies?

Halloween is nearly here!

Halloween has always been my favorite time of the year. I love candy!

When I was younger I'd go trick or treating with several of the neighborhood kids. We'd hit every house on our road - about 4 blocks long - then we'd branch out further. I'd often return home with a full pillowcase of goodies that I could barely carry.

Of course the favorite house on the block was the lady who made caramel apples. Some sneaky tricksters went back to her house a few times. And the popcorn balls wrapped in cellophane. Yummy! And the little chocolate bars back in those days were a decent size, about half the size of a regular chocolate bar. Not the little one or two bite chocolates that are sold these days.

And then a townhouse complex was built in 1970. A new thing for the area. This is the 12th towhouse registered with British Columbia. Now the legal descriptions for new condos are numbered in the thousands. 86 units on 5 acres. A bunch of houses to hit in one small area. We all flocked there. Kids from out of town were driven in by their parents. It was a zoo. And sadly by the time we came to many houses they were all out of candy. That townhouse quickly changed its policy for subsequent Halloweens and had all the trick or treaters come to the workshed where a sack of candies is handed out.

I dressed up in many of the traditional costumes associated with Halloween - a ghost, a clown, a witch. I'll never forget that witch outfit. It was pouring rain that night. I was wearing a pointed black witch's hat with crepe paper fringe around the bottom. The rain washed it out in no time and I had black dye running down my face. A truly gruesome looking witch.

One year my parents took my sack of candies away from me so I wouldn't eat it all. And sadly I never saw it again. My parents forgot where they put it. Or so they claimed. Maybe they ate it all.

Now as a homeowner I hand out goodies each Halloween. I have a box of 75 mini chocolate bars and a box of 63 small bags of potato chips. Well those were the starting numbers. Kerry has gotten into both of them. Last year we had between 50 and 60 kids. Tomorrow night the weather forecast is for rain so I expect the number of trick or treaters to be lower. The good thing about the rain is it deters the troublemakers.

And so I'll wait tomorrow night with my handouts, watching the kids slog through the rain, and memories of that witch's hat and the black dye running down my face has been in my head all day.

Happy Halloween!

Time for a new floor

When I was in high school my father bought a new house that we lived in for a couple of years. He rented out our other home and we eventually moved back there. I loved that house on Panarama Ridge. It was on an acre and a half and had a swimming pool in the backyard. It also had a big kennel next to the house, but alas, my parents wouldn't let me have a dog. They did let me bring my horse there one summer to eat down the overgrown lawn there.

I remember my father pulling up the carpet in the living room and discovering hardwood floor underneath. All the carpet was pulled up, the hardwood sanded and refinished, and a big area rug was put in the room.

Last year Kerry and I bought an older house in Cloverdale. I don't like the house. Its a place to live, that's about it. I like the sundeck and the size of the back yard and the big cedar tree in the back yard. The house itself is boxy and the room are small. It was built in 1964 as a one story rancher and in 1981 it was raised up and the basement was built. These days our basement suite is rented out to tenants. The upstairs where we live has ugly carpet in the living room and bedrooms, ugly linoleum in the kitchen and bathroom. But thinking back to my father's discovery in the Panarama Ridge home, shortly after moving in I asked Kerry if we could check under the carpet just in case there might be a hardwood floor. We went to the cold air duct in the hallway and lifed it out and checked there. Nope, was Kerry's determination. Just plywood under the carpet.

But I continued to hate the carpet. Its a light color and with two large dogs and Kerry refusing to take off his muddy shoes in the house, its impossible to keep clean. We have a carpet shampooer and one of us has to operate it while the other one collects the clumps of dog hair that roll up. Every time after we shampoo I get enough dog hair to make two new dogs!

I want laminate floor everywhere. Something that will be easy to keep clean. No more dirty carpets, no more dog hair clumps when we shampoo. Just easy maintenance for me. I hate that ugly, always dirty, hard to keep clean carpet.

A month ago we installed laminate floor in a friend's condo. That got me wishing for my laminate floors again. This time to the point that we checked stores and prices, with Kerry promising to take measurements so we'd know how much to buy for the living room, hall, and three bedrooms upstairs. I'm still waiting for the measurements.

On the other hand Kerry has started a project of installing a pocket door in the bathroom. This is because too many times our dogs go in there for a drink and accidentally shut the door and then they bark for hours (if we're not home) hoping someone will come along and let them out. The door he installed is a glass door - we're going to spray it with that frosted stuff so nobody can peak in. We have bought the drywall but haven't finished the wall he took down, so anyone in the house can peak in. This is going to have to be like my cousin's house with a sheet as the bathroom door if he doesn't get to this soon!

The other project is another closet for our bedroom. Remember the house getting raised in 1981? That left a high hallway on the other side of our bedroom wall where the steps come up. Kerry is going to extend the closet over the downstairs entry. That will be great. This house has small closets in the three bedrooms and a linen closet. There is no coat closet. Like I said, I don't like the house. And I especially hate the lack of closet space and nowhere to store stuff.

So Kerry is messing around on the stairs last night punching out part of the wall that he hopes will be approximately where the floor of the new bedroom closet will be. Then he comes into the bedroom and pulls the couch out from the wall to check where his hole came out. I hear him fiddling with the carpet back there. Then he looks up and tells me that underneath the carpet is a beautiful hardwood floor made of fir. I hop up to take a look. And sure enough, its like the Panorama Ridge house all over again, there is a gorgeous floor. Unfortunately someone long ago was painting the walls and got white paint splashed on the floor. Don't worry about it, says Kerry, that can be sanded down.

Now we're excited and go back to that duct in the hallway for a closer look. This time Kerry uses his knife and slices back part of the carpet to discover underneath - a tiled floor! Darn! Go more, I suggest. Maybe they tiled over the hardwood. Kerry peels off the vinyl tile, and yes! There's the hardwood floor. We go into the living room and pull back a couch. If we're ripping carpet we want to make sure it can't be seen. And if there's no hardwood, its no big deal as we're planning on the laminate. So he sliced the carpet, saw the tiled floor and peeled it off, and there is hardwood there too. We immediately check the other two bedrooms with the same story: a tiled floor on top of the hardwood. Clearly the master bedroom was the only room not tiled and where the hardwood is going to be easiest to uncover again.

But we're stoked. Kerry pulls up all the living room carpet, the underlay, and then the tile underneath. And its an odd tile. There are two different green color schemes in a checkerboard design. And no, its not the ugliest tile floor I've ever seen. That belongs to a house I lived in about 20 years ago. The owners told us that the previous renters had cats and dogs in the house and they were worried they may have peed on the floor. It was winter and we didn't notice any smells. But when summer hit - whooey! Stinky pee! We called the owners to let them know and they pulled up the carpet, to discover underneath a checkerboard tiled floor red and green. And they were hug tiles, about four times the size of the tiles we pulled out last night. After letting it air out for a couple of weeks the owners put in a lovely laminate floor. Anything was better than smelling the cat pee on the carpet during the hot summer months!

Its our guess whoever was raising a family in the sixties in this house decided to glue down a tile floor on most of the hardwood because it was more practical with kids in the house. Then in the seventies they probably carpeted the house, after all shag carpet was all the rage back then. And no, our current carpet is not shag. So the house has probably been recarpeted a couple of times over the years.

The hardwood uncovered in the living room has tile glue all over it and we're hoping it will sand down nicely. It also needs to be repaired in a couple of spots, looks like pipes came up through the floor at one time, and there are a couple of transition areas that plywood or similar was used. If worst comes to worse we'll put down laminate, but here's hoping the hardwood turns out well in the end.

Lucky at the Standardbred Show N Shine

Our local racetrack Fraser Downs has a horse adoption program called Greener Pastures to help place retired Standardbred racehorses into new homes. They make fine riding horses, they're versatile and excel in many disciplines.

To help raise money for Greener Pastures they've held a couple of horse shows this summer called Standardbred Show N Shine. They have classes in halter, showmanship, English riding, jumping, Western riding, and trail.

I have an ex-racehorse, Lucky, that I rescued from the local auction on December 15 2002. He was several hundred pounds underweight, covered in cuts, mud fever, and severely neglected. I got him for fifty bucks. The meat buyers weren't going to buy this rack of bones. I wasn't sure if Lucky would live or not, but that horse has heart and under veterinary care, some groceries and TLC he came back to be a healthy horse.

We've come out to both shows just for a little fun and an outing for him. At nineteen years old he's probably the oldest horse in the show ring and maybe the most obstinate too. The first show he refused to trot and paced nicely all day. His pace is so smooth to ride and I was quite comfortable, but he didn't score too well when he should have been trotting. The last show was held on September 7 and he was in a more agreeable mood that day and did everything that was asked of him. Lucky is a big boy with a big stride and when asked to trot and canter he decided he was in a race and ran circles around the other horses. He does nothing halfway. When asked to canter, he gallops. If I pull back the reins to slow him down he'll go into a trot.

Oh well, he can be a fun boy. I thought he would do his best in the trail class because he fearlessly goes through the trails and up and down hills, over bridges, around trees, and under branches as surefooted as a mountain goat. A trail class set up in a riding arena has makeshift obstacles. The bridge was a tarpaulin, and no way was he going to walk on that, even though he walks over a tarpaulin at home back at the farm. The gate was a couple of poles with a rope strung between them. Nope. No way. If it had been a real gate there would be no problem, but not this pole and rope.

But on the last show they changed the trail class a bit and held it in the warm up arena. They put the obstacles up ahead of time and let the horses practice a bit. This time they had a small wooden bridge. I tried Lucky across it with little success our first few times. Then he finally figured it out and crossed it nicely after that.

But the call came for the Western discipline classes and we returned to the show ring. Lucky picked up ribbons in each class and then the group headed over to the warm up arena for the trail class which each horse and rider would enter the arena one at a time and go through the course. When it was Lucky's turn he took the course wonderfully. And this time we were awarded a 2nd place ribbon.

Not too bad for an old, grumpy man!

Bear in the campground!

My idea of camping is in a luxury hotel on the beach of a tropical resort, therefore a driving trip in a partly camperized van across British Columbia and Alberta was not quite what I had in mind. We didn’t have a fridge but we had an ice chest that worked by plugging into the cigarette lighter. It had a noisy fan and I didn’t want to be kept awake in the evenings, so we put the cooler outside with the cord still plugged into the lighter, but the window rolled up against the thin cord, and the fan didn’t bother me. We were unable to put the cooler outside of the van while at a campground in Banff National Park in the Rocky Mountains. This was due to bears, and the campgrounds had posted bear warnings and gave us a pamphlet on how to avoid attracting bears to our campsite.

On our way home we stopped for the night at a campsite in Canmore. My husband put the cooler outside with me questioning if there was a bear problem. He used to live in the area and assured me that bears didn’t come down this far. I checked the bulletin board and there was no mention of any bear sightings in the area, so I decided the cooler was fine sitting outside the van where the fan wouldn’t disturb my sleep.

We had all the curtains closed and were reading around nine-thirty in the evening when I heard a noise outside. We listened and it sounded like someone was pushing our cooler. Who would be trying to steal it? I peaked behind a curtain and there was a black bear trying to take the cooler! Kerry jumped into the front seat and tried to go out the door. What was he thinking? Luckily the automatic door lock was engaged and he couldn’t open the door, so instead he honked the horn. The noise frightened off Mr. Bear and we both exited the van with flashlights trying to determine where the bear had gone.

The path the bear chose was through the next campsite where a couple was sitting by the campfire in front of their tent. The bear had run right past them, and all we could see were the two of them throwing water onto the fire, jumped into their car, and drove off.

The man in the campsite across from us came over and we were standing there talking when a man driving a car pulled up and asked if we'd seen a bear. He'd been walking his dog and saw a bear near the camp entrance pay telephone standing on its hind legs. The image is rather amusing: a bear standing up like he's using the phone. The man called the police and a short time later an officer arrived and alerted each campsite of the bear sighting.

As for the couple in the campsite next to us, we never did see them again. Did they go to a local motel for the night or did they abandon their equipment and just keep on driving?

My Small Town - Cloverdale, British Columbia

Growing up I used to hear the term one horse town and I figured that pretty much described where I lived and I owned that horse.

Cloverdale, British Columbia was a small community part of the district of Surrey, about 30 miles from the big city of Vancouver. The main street was about 4 blocks long, part of the Pacific Highway, and big semi trucks rattled through town, using this route to get to the US/Canada truck crossing at the border.

Cloverdale Elementary School was about one mile from out house and a huge hill, Broadway Road, was part of my walk to and from school each day. One mile is a long way for a six year old girl to walk, but walk I did both ways for the seven years I went there, rain or shine, and mostly rain in this part of the country. I sometimes rode my bike, but pushing it up that huge hill was exhausting.

I remember a lot of snow when I was a kid and we’d all go to Broadway with our sleds and toboggans. No car was going to attempt that hill in the snow and icy conditions. Especially not confronted with a couple of dozen kids careening down the hill. But again, only one or two trips down and the walk back up in the snow was enough to call it quits. And the local cow fields would flood over in the fall and freeze in the winter and we’d all go ice skating out there. The worst thing that could happen if the ice was too thin and we’d break through standing ankle or shin deep in water.

Friday after school was my favourite time and I’d accompany my mother grocery shopping at the Co-op. This was a two story building with groceries on the first floor and a flight of stairs up the second floor for the hardware and clothing. And the building behind was the Co-op’s feed store where I’d buy oats for my horses when I got a little older.

A typical little sixties town with assorted stores: a five and dime, a couple of clothing stores, a couple of shoe stores, a jewellery store, a delicatessen, a few diners, the Clover Inn with a restaurant and lounge, and the Clova Theatre where we often went on Saturday matinees. Dann’s bicycle and appliance store is still operating in Cloverdale, for over fifty years. The Clova is still running too. The five and dime has long since closed as have most of the other business, many replaced by antique stores for awhile, and now assorted other businesses, many that don’t stick around too long. The bowling alley, Clover Lanes, has been there as long as I can remember. In the late 60’s or early 70’s Aaron’s Pizza opened just off the main street. Kind of a competition to the Shakey’s Pizza parlours with its picnic tables and casual dining. Aaron’s is still there, but the picnic tables have been replaced by family seating and they still serve pizzas along with pastas and other meals.

Cloverdale was always known for its rodeo held on the long weekend in May. For a time it was the 2nd largest rodeo in Canada, behind the Calgary Stampede, then it became the 3rd largest. I’m not sure what its status is now. It lost its ranking with the pro circuit because it no longer allows some events, particularly those that deal with tying calves. But every long weekend in May Cloverdale was transformed from a sleepy little town to a whoop hollering party town carnival. It was a good weekend to get out of town.

And then in 1975 the harness horse racing came to town, using the fairgrounds, and Cloverdale no longer was known as a one horse town with hundreds of Standardbreds calling it home. Horse racing was huge back in the 1980’s. Cars lined way out of town on Monday, Wednesday, and Friday nights. And the horses also raced on Saturday and Sunday afternoons. These days with so many casinos around and other entertainment venues horse racing has dwindled to 7 or 8 months a year on Fridays, Saturdays, and Sundays. The racetrack even converted over to a casino, Fraser Downs its now known as. The casino is the main form of revenue.

When I was growing up and a new neighbour moved in the neighbors would all come over with baking and to introduce themselves. When I was going to school I knew almost everybody and their brothers and sisters too, if not by face, then by name. Walking down the main street of Cloverdale always meant banging into someone I knew.

But nobody does that anymore. Cloverdale outgrew itself. But the small town atmosphere still kind of remains. This is home to Smallville and often the TV cameras and crew will have part of a street blocked off for filming. Likewise with other movie and TV projects that want a small town look. A few years ago in August Coca Cola filmed a commercial here that was a snowy Christmas theme and they trucked in snow to the streets and sidewalks. Several semi trucks decked out in Christmas lights are featured driving through town and a boy is racing across the fields yelling the Santa trucks are coming.

And maybe they’ll be back someday. Or maybe they'll find a real small town out there....

My Scooter

Two years ago I bought my Suzuki Burgman 400. Its still classified a scooter because its manual transmission, but its a high performance scooter. In order to legally ride one a motorcycle license is required. It goes as fast as any motorbike, which must surprise the heck out of a lot of people.

One day I was riding home from work in a two lane 30mph zone, going the speed limit in the curb lane. I'm not a speed demon and I'm not out to break the law. A small car whizzes past me with 4 teenagers inside and a new driver tag on the back. The driver, a teenage girl, signals into my lane just before coming to the red light. I'm not sure why she did that because the two lanes end just on the other side of the light and the curb lane must merge into the center lane. So I changed lanes into the passing lane and stopped beside her at the light. They were all looking at me and must have figured they'd have no trouble passing a scooter before getting to where the lanes merge. The light changed green and away I go into the 40mph zone. The teenage girl is trying her darnedest to get ahead of me. Frantically changing gears and giving it all her little car would give. She must have used a lot of gas in her sad attempt. I quickly outdistanced her to where the lanes merge and then she was stuck behind me, travelling the speed limit, for the next couple of miles until she turned off. Her teenage friends must have had a good laugh at her because her wimpy car couldn't even beat a scooter off the line.

Another time I'm in a 50mph zone on a two lane highway, stopped at a red light. Several young men on sport bikes stopped in the lane beside me. The light changed and to their great surprise I quickly outdistanced them. However as soon as I reached the speed limit they all went whipping past me.

This happens to me all the time at traffic lights. Some unsuspecting driver gets beside me thinking they'll get ahead of me no problem only to be left in the dust. However any of them who want to speed can quickly catch up and pass. There's a great victory!

The Burgman is a great scooter. It has a glove box that matches the one in my car and 2 extra smaller glove boxs beside it big enough that I can put my keys, cell phone, or glasses. Beneath the seat is a trunk large enough to hold two motorcycle helmets. I've also carried a few bags of groceries in there and one time we bought several garden hoses and brought them home in the trunk. As much as I like riding it I also like being a passenger, and the passenger seat is much more comfortable than the back of Kerry's V-Star. It has a backrest and a seat soft enough for longer rides. And the drivers in the cars beside us are amazed that a scooter, with a passenger aboard, can still beat them off the line.

I Miss My Little Donkeys

I grew up in a small town that was surrounded by farms, the closest one right across the street. I begged my father to buy a farm so I could get a horse, but unfortunately I was doomed to be a city girl sitting on the wrong side of the country fence. I may have been acreage-challenged but that didn’t stop me from hanging out at friend’s farms, buying horses, and sinking paychecks into a couple of decades worth of horse boarding fees. Finally the day came when my dreams came true and my husband and I moved ourselves and our horses to a leased farm out in the country. Well, make that the outskirts of town as the nearest subdivision is about three blocks away. It wasn’t long before we heard the coyotes howling at night, and this time right below our bedroom window instead of way off somewhere out in the country. Unfortunately we also spotted coyotes running down the fence line into the barn where two mares and newborn foals were stabled.

Solution: insert two female mini donkeys that we picked up at the local horse rescue. While we were driving home with our new long-eared friends my husband admitted he hadn’t asked for the names of the donkeys. Inspiration struck and I named them Laverne and Shirley, aka the coyote posse.

Next came a crash course in Donkey 101. We upgraded the fences so the posse could patrol the entire property with the openings low enough for donkeys, but too high for horses to duck under. The donkeys can access two large shelters and have twenty acres to roam around, but they’re under the false impression that the carport and front door is primarily their new home and secondarily their toilet area. Judging by the deposits they spend a lot of time here. I have to muck out the sidewalk just to get inside the house with clean shoes.

I’m often reminded of the old children’s rhyme: “Sweetly sing the donkeys at the break of day. If you do not feed them this is what they say. Hee haw. Hee haw. Hee haw. Hee haw. Hee haw.” Forget daybreak. Whenever they feel like it, hungry or not, they’ll open their mouths wide and bray at the top of their lungs. These two little donkeys make enough racket to drown out a herd of trumpeting elephants. Sometimes Shirley will get into another field and Laverne can’t figure out how to join her and she’ll bawl about it, long and loud. One night the donkeys kept my husband awake with all their heehawing. He looked out the window and saw one of them running the fence line, so my guess is that once again Shirley managed to give Laverne the slip. Sometimes they bray at dogs walking past on the street. Perhaps they think they’re funny looking coyotes? My husband also claims they bray when visitors come onto the property. Watch donkeys? And yes, in addition to all the other braying, they do “sing” first thing in the morning when they think its time to get their morning grain. They’re more reliable than roosters.

Donkeys are little scavengers and eat everything they can sink their teeth into. I left a bowl of dog food on the lawn and they polished it off. My husband knocked a watermelon off the sundeck – don’t ask – and it exploded on the lawn below. The donkeys gobbled it up, rind and all. Forgotten vegetables and fruit in the fridge? No problem. Toss it outside for the donkeys. I’m still trying to figure out how they eat plum stones. I gave Laverne an unpeeled banana and she gobbled it down whole. When we moved to the farm I was happy to see several mature grape vines in the backyard. Throughout the summer big bunches of green grapes appeared. I watched my bumper crop closely, from time to time testing one but it was always sour. Then one day I saw the green grapes start to turn purple. That explains why those little green grapes were always sour – they hadn’t ripened into sweet purple ones yet. It was only a matter of days until they fully ripened and then I’d be enjoying them by the handful. But it was not meant to be. I arrived home and checked my crop. Gone! Not a single grape left! Donkeys! I got smarter the next year and put a small fence around the little vineyard. Donkeys don’t have discerning tastes. They drag cardboard boxes out of the back of the truck and munch on them. One day I caught Shirley with an envelope in her mouth. Thinking it might be important I wrestled her for it, prying her locked jaws apart, and finally she opened up her snappers. It was just some junk mail she dragged out of the burn barrel.

Laverne and Shirley entertain us as much as the old TV show starring their namesakes. Sometimes they fight and push each other around at dinner time. Shirley is smaller but she pins her ears and leans all her weight into Laverne. Sometimes they get mad at a horse and kick out, never connecting, and then run as fast as their little legs can go before the horse retaliates. They don’t seem to like my dogs too much. I caught Shirley chasing one of my dogs and she put the brakes on real fast when she galloped around the corner and found me standing there with the dog cowering behind my legs.

My husband was told if he fed the donkeys a special meal at six o’clock on Christmas Eve and went back outside at midnight they would talk to him. In a scene reminiscent of Linus waiting for the Great Pumpkin, my husband feeds them their special meal each Christmas Eve and then dutifully returns to the barn at midnight but so far Laverne and Shirley haven’t told him anything he doesn’t already know.

Unfortunately we no longer live on our little home and Laverne and Shirley have moved to a donkey farm upcountry. And I still miss them. Their little legs running as fast as they can. Braying when they're hungry or just because they feel like it. One day I'll have some little donkeys again, but I'll never forget Laverne and Shirley.

Heehaw!

Under Apple Attack

We purchased our house a little over a year ago, a corner lot, located in a quiet area. On our side lawn are 2 mature apple trees. As the apples ripened last summer I tried the apples but didn’t like how they tasted so I collect them in buckets and take them out to the farm where I board my horses daily. One is a Transparent apple tree, mush yellow apple that bruises easily when it hits the ground. The other tree I’m not too sure about. It’s a red apple, similar to McIntosh, but doesn’t taste as good as one. This house had been rented for several years and the garden was badly neglected and overgrown, and likewise the 2 apple trees, badly neglected and not pruned for years.

Last summer a neighbour came over with an apple pie for us. She confessed to having picked apples so she could do some baking, and we invited her to help herself. Sad to say the apple pie wasn’t very good. Darned tasteless, mushy Transparents!

Over the winter we hired a gardener to prune the trees and as spring rolled around we put in fruit tree spikes and made sure the trees were well watered and we’re dealing with a bumper crop this year.

A couple of months ago we extended our fence line along the side of our house, putting the apple trees on the street side of the fence. Technically they are on city property but our responsibility. Therefore the apples fall on both sides of the fence. I’m constantly seeing apples with a bite taken out of them or even just the core left dumped on our lawn.

A couple of weeks ago I had just arrived home from work and was getting into my barn clothes when someone came to the front door. I heard Kerry talk to him and then he told me that the man who was pruning the neighbor’s tree saw our apples and asked if he could have some for his horses. Kerry told him to help himself. I was ticked. I hadn’t yet filled a bucket of apples for OUR horses. Not only did he clean us out but I saw him picking apples off the tree too. And those branches are quite high up due to our recent trimming. Nothing too close to the ground but he was a good sized man and was able to reach a branch and pull it down closer for picking range. And here’s the kicker. The man is trailering his tree chipper. One of our apple branches broke off and was lying on the ground right there in front of him. He's got to walk around it to get to the apples. The considerate thing for him to do in exchange for the apples would have been to toss that tree in his truck and then put it through his chipper the next time he was using it. But no, he didn’t. I told Kerry if he comes back wanting apples tell him no.

Today Kerry told me he caught a lady picking the apples off the ground and she told him she was making applesauce. Help yourself he told her. No problem there. I really don’t mind if the neighbor’s help themselves for their own consumption. There’s a bumper crop this year.

On Saturday night at 11pm I heard voices outside on the street. I peeked out the window and saw a group of teenage boys talking loudly and kept an eye on them. One of them stopped off the street onto our lawn and picked up an apple and started eating it. So OK, he’s hungry. Then another boy picked up an apple, took a bite, and apparently didn’t like it too much. He threw it at our house and it made a good thump against the siding. Then he picked up another apple and threw it against the house. Fortunately the siding again and not through a window. Kerry was downstairs and heard the noise and came outside. Ended up getting into a verbal battle and the boys took off down the street and he went back inside. I don’t think that was too smart for him to get into it with the boys because we park our truck on the street, and the car and motorbike in the driveway and those little buggers could have come back and vandalized any of them while we're sleeping. Then I watched the boys come back and the same boy picked up an apple and threw it against our house.

I know the police aren’t going to do anything so no point in calling them, so I grabbed my camera. I know its too dark to get a focused shot but the boys probably wouldn’t know that. All they'd see is the flashbulb going off. Then I heard 2 men down the other street yelling at them and the boys started running. I ran out to the sundeck and started snapping the shutter making the flash go off so the boys would know the camera was taking their pictures. And then one of the men yelled: “Good! They’re taking your picture.” The 2 men caught up with 2 of the boys with me continuing to snap a blurry documentary. I heard one of the boys yell: “Quit taking our picture. It wasn’t us.”

Kerry went back outside again and another neighbour across the street came outside. Apparently the boy(s) were throwing apples against his house too, though I hadn't seen that. One of the other men came back to talk. Apparently the boys had just been done their street and were throwing rocks at his neighbor’s house. As if that wasn’t enough one of them (probably the same apple thrower I observed) punched in the van that was parked on the street. That house/van owner is a biker. He caught up with 2 of them, and I believe he knew at least one of them, and found out who the other boys are, so it looks like he’ll take care of them.

In the meantime I now pick up those apples as soon as I can and do one final sweep before going to bed at night. Just trying to eliminate the ammunition.

Movie Under the Stars

Every Friday night my husband and I have date night. Last night we went to a free movie in one of our city parks. Night At The Museum. We already saw this movie once before in the theatre on Christmas Eve 2006, but this event sounded like fun. Bring a chair or a blanket for the ground, bring a picnic, or a concession was available for snacks, and live entertainment before the movie gets underway at dusk.

Although we've been having a hot streak this past week Friday morning was a lot cooler and although sunny was not overbearingly hot like the past few days. So before I left I got into capris and brought a sweater. We filled our cooler with drinks, went to Subway for a couple of sandwiches, stopped at the drugstore for some munchies and headed out to the park to set up our picnic dinner around 7:30. About 100 people were already there many of them enjoying a picnic. A huge inflatable movie screen was set up and we began eating our dinner.

It brought me back to the days when drive in movies were still around. My parents would get us in the car and bring a picnic dinner. Beneath the drive in's screen was a playground and all the kids would play there waiting for it to get dark enough for the movie to start. Most of the kids were running around in their pajamas. The parents got them ready for bed before they left so when they got home it was straight to bed, or I suppose many kids fell asleep in the cars before the movie ended.

And last night there were a couple of kids running around who already had their pj's on. Some unprepared people headed over to a nearby Safeway for snacks, while others walked over to the Starbucks for a hot drink as the evening began to cool down.

As we waited for darkness to fall a park employee greeted the crowd and introduced the first entertainer, a young lady who did a few Indian dances, making her last dance interactive by inviting anyone to join her. About 20 young girls and 1 boy joined her with the final dance called a crow hop. After her a local martial arts studio put on a demonstration. Around that time it started getting colder and I was glad for my sweater, the first time in days I had to wear one. My husband in his shorts and T-shirt hadn't thought ahead. I suggested he go back to the car for a blanket. We have two blankets in the back of our Vibe because that's where the dogs ride. Sure they'd have dog hair on them but at least it would be warm. He returned to the car, hoping to find that he'd left a jacket behind in there, but no luck, and came back with a blanket and wrapped himself up.

Just after 9:00 it was deemed dark enough to start the movie and away it went. We once again enjoyed Ben Stiller's antics while he corralled a host of characters who came to life when the sun went down. I still find it hard to watch kindly Dick Van Dyke in a villain's role.

The movie ended and slowly everyone began gathering up their chairs and coolers. No one was in a big rush to leave. We loaded up the car and headed home. What an enjoyable evening and a low cost date night.

There are a few more night under the stars movies playing throughout August. I'm thinking of going to see Grease except its in a park that's not really in a good part of town and a longer drive from our house. I've seen that movie about a hundred times. I have the video and I still watch it every time it come on TV. And later this month American Graffiti will be playing nearby. Oddly enough not in a park but on a street corner where there are a couple of condominiums with store's on the street level. Mostly I want to go out of curiosity about where they're going to set up a big outdoor movie screen in that area.

Scooter Safety

I’ve decided to stick with the scooter theme for this blog and cover some safety issues. Riders of 50 cc scooters do not require a motorcycle license, though it is a good idea to take motorcycle lessons and learn the rules of the road from a biker’s point of view. Many motorcycle schools recognize scooters are becoming increasingly popular and are also offering scooter riding lessons.

First off, ride like a biker and own your lane. That means riding near the center line of the road. Too many scooters ride close to the shoulder. Invariably these scooters have a line of cars behind them, being tailgated by the first driver. They’re not trying to tailgate, they’re just trying to pass. They believe the scooter rider has moved closer to the shoulder to allow them room to pass and they’re trying to see around the rider for when its safe to pass. Ride the scooter closer to the center line and there won’t be as many tailgater problems.

Scooters have a top speed of 40 mph, maybe a little faster going downhill. They’re perfect for city driving, but stay off the freeways. Choose routes that can be safely navigated at the scooter’s speed. A scooter travelling 40 mph in a 60 mph zone will not be popular and could cause accidents when faster traffic has to suddenly slow down and pass.

Scooter riders are not invincible. Just because it’s a smaller machine than a motorcycle doesn’t mean it can’t get into an accident. Scooters travel up to 40 mph and a spill at that speed is going to hurt. And yes, scooter riders do take their share of spills. Wear proper motorcycle riding gear. At the very least that means a DOT approved helmet. Buy a good motorcycle jacket with padding to protect elbows and kidneys. Motorcycle pants with padded knees are a good investment. And padded gloves are a must. The bonus is the gear is waterproof. There is nothing worse than getting caught in a rain storm. A cold, wet, tired rider is susceptible for accidents. Wear proper foot gear. This means boots or rubber soled shoes. I can’t tell you how many scooter riders I see wearing open toed sandals. And other summertime gear might consist of shorts and T-shirts. Imagine taking a spill while travelling in city traffic in your beach wear. Road rash will be the least of your problems. Broken bones may be a real possibility. And sadly sometimes death.

If you’re planning to buy a scooter, go to the department of transportation and pick up the book that motorcycle riders get when they are going to write the test for their learner’s license. This book is full of tips that are useful to scooter riders.

Most importantly, ride like you are invisible. A car driver can look right at you and still not see you. Ride that scooter like no one knows you’re there.

Keep safe and riding a scooter will be a blast.

Scooter Commuter

During transit strikes and when gas prices skyrocket motorcycle dealers say they sell faster than hotcakes. Scooters! They’re economical, practical, trendy, and automatic transmission. The hidden bonus: no motorbike license required.

Scooters have become popular in big cities where purchases are driven by trends and European influence. Drivers frustrated with traffic jams and elusive parking spots are snapping up scooters and turning their daily commute from a stressful, boring routine into a fun adventure. I went the retro, trendy route and chose a Yamaha scooter with European styling minus the hefty price tag. The salesman showed me how easy it is to operate the scooter and gave me a couple of pointers: “Don’t look down. Don’t drag your feet on the road.” He forgot to tell me not to transport a watermelon in the storage compartment and I learned the hard way how to ride while counterbalancing a heavy, rolling fruit. Motorbike helmets are necessary and I chose one with a face shield, the first defence against hundreds of bugs that are determined to commit suicide on my face.

Scooters are environmentally friendly, quiet, and create less pollution than a car. They average thirty kilometres per litre or nearly two hundred kilometres on a full tank of gas. I stopped driving my car and watched my monthly gas bill drop from two hundred dollars a month to twenty. Spent the savings at a spa.

Daily I hop aboard my scooter for a thirty kilometre ride to work. Part of my route takes me across the Fraser River via the Albion Ferry where motorbikes are guaranteed on the next sailing, bypassing the car line up, and shaving up to an hour off the commute. I often exit the ferry on my tiny red Vino dwarfed by a dozen big guys on big motorbikes. Rain, shine, freezing weather, I’m geared up and on my way. But where are these big guys when the weather turns bad? The motorbike section consists of myself and one other lady riding a scooter. We conclude it must be true that Harleys and Hondas melt in the rain.