A Bad Start

       My month of squeezing in Summer was scheduled to start with a bang.  

       For months, we had been planning to join friends in the mountains over Labor Day weekend, where we were planning to go out in a boat on a lovely lake, enjoy a picnic dinner and then watch Labor Day fireworks.  

       In my weeks of renovation and moving, I had held out this weekend as a sort of reward - an eventual and well-earned day off with friends, food and fireworks.  

       But on Thursday, I started to notice that a bad smell seemed to be following me everywhere. I couldn't tell where it was coming from. Since it was always where I was, I smelled my shoes and then my feet. Maybe I had stepped in something?  

       Then I noticed some drips on the floor near the staircase and realized Olympia must have had a little accident -- something that hadn't happened in over five years. And then, with sudden horror,  I rolled her over and smelled her "parts", and immediately diagnosed a urinary tract infection (UTI).  

       I called the friend who had invited us to the mountains and started to sob.  

       I wasn't just crying, mind you. I was gasping, weeping, moaning... Between the contractor not showing up repeatedly, and sawdust everywhere, and still unpacked boxes and Tom saying we should really be further along in our unpacking, I just didn't have the ability to cope with poor Olympia being sick.  

       Still, I think the crying was a bit overdone. 

       In fact, I think I had come entirely undone.  I was embarrassed to be sobbing to my friend, remembering that she had lost her mother to cancer earlier this year.  A dog's UTI really wasn't that bad at all in comparison.

       But it meant I couldn't take Oly to board at her daycare. And it meant I couldn't leave her with friends since she might have accidents at their place. (In desperation, I would ask some old neighbors nonetheless, but they had travel plans for the weekend.)

       My friend suggested I call the vet right away, in case I was wrong. I made an appointment for two hours later, and spent all of the next 90 minutes and the 30-minute drive crying.  

       I put on sunglasses when I arrived at the vet clinic and managed to hold in my tears while the vet examined Olympia. On my recommendation, she turned Olympia over and smelled her and said while she wouldn't ordinarily diagnose a UTI on the basis of smell, she felt she could in this case. (The smell was really, really noxious.) Nonetheless, of course, she did do some tests (costing a total of $280) which would confirm the diagnosis by the next day and then re-confirm it today.  And as this was Oly's third UTI, the vet prescribed 28 days of Cipro -- to make sure the bacteria was absolutely crushed.  She said the Cipro might start to take effect in a day or two. 

       I cried all the way home.  And I called my friend, and cried a little bit more -- while I apologized for having to cancel our plans, and for crying.

       By the time Tom came home, my face was all blotchy and my eyes felt cried out.

       Tom hugged me and pointed out that since we wouldn't be going away for the weekend, we could spend the whole three-day long weekend unpacking boxes.

       And I started to cry some more...

Time is Running Out

       I've been pretty busy with this whole move thing -- not just this last week, but for the last couple of months.  As a result, summer has pretty much slipped by me.  

       And I love summer.

       I suppose I'm not alone in loving summer (although I do have friends who prefer autumn). But growing up in Saskatchewan -- where the winters can be brutal and long, and the summers lovely but short -- taught me to prize warm sunny long summer days.

       This year though, I have spent much of the last two prime summer months indoors -- packing, organizing, overseeing workers, decorating and unpacking.  And I'm not complaining. I am thrilled with our new home.

       But yesterday was the last day with the painter. Today will be one of the last with the contractor.  The house is coming together.  

       And according to Monday's newscasts, the Farmer's Almanac is forecasting a tougher than usual winter for our area.

       So I think I'd better squeeze some summer into my 2009 before it's too late. 

The Movers are Here!

ACK!!!!!!!

A Whole World of Suburbs

       This posting is a bit embarrassing to me. But driving out to the suburbs every day has shown me that there is a whole world out there beyond the center of the city. 

       This shouldn’t come as a surprise to me. The population of the greater metropolitan area here is around six times the size of the city population. But I somehow had remained pretty much closed to that during my first six years here. 

       The place I take Olympia for grooming, for example, used to seem very far away. When she was due for a haircut, I would often plan to spend several hours in the neighborhood of the grooming business so that I wouldn’t have to make the long drive back and forth twice in one day. 

       I should have known there was something wrong with my perception of this. People frequently asked me where I take her, and I would always begin by saying it was pretty inconvenient to get to. Then, when I would tell them the address, they would nearly always respond that it wasn’t far at all. 

       I now realize that this far away locale is actually six exits closer to the city than is our current home. Now that I am used to highway driving, I pass by that exit in the blink of an eye.

       Also, I have a cousin in the greater metropolitan area whose home is actually four exits closer to the city than is our new home. Yet I rarely visited him there – even when he offered me access to the swim club to which he gets a membership every summer. Although I thanked him for his kindness, I honestly couldn’t fathom driving 20 minutes just to go swimming. 

       But now, when I drive past his exit every day, on the way to our new home, I am amazed at how quickly I get there. I just listen to a few songs on the radio, maybe sing along a bit, occasionally change lanes…and I am there. A few minutes later, it’s time to turn off for my own home.

       And last week, I went to a meeting of my book club at a new member’s home – two exits closer to the city than is our new home. I would never have considered driving out there a couple of months ago. Instead, I would have asked another member to drive me out to this mysterious area. But last week, I found the new member's home without a problem. 

       And when it was time to leave, she told me not to go back to the highway to get to our new home, but rather drew me a map of a quick shortcut to my own neighborhood. And in that way, I discovered that we are very nearly neighbors. When she wants all-you-can-eat sushi, I’m sure she goes to the same place that Tom and I heard about. We have already made plans to get together for lunch after our move.

       And this is all on just one highway, traveling in just one direction from the city. 

       I happen to know that there are highways in other directions as well. I have, at Tom’s insistence, finally looked at a map of the area after six years of living here. I now that there is a whole world of suburbs out there sprawling in all directions – beyond the core of the city. 

       I have always been delighted to travel to some of the furthest reaches on the planet, but I have denied myself all but the closest reaches of my own metropolitan area. 

       I feel ridiculous indeed.

Good Fences

       They say good fences make good neighbors, and I hope that’s true. 

       Today, workers finally arrived to put up a wooden privacy fence for us – after I went through extensive approval processes with both the neighborhood association and the city.
       The benefits of this will be twofold, at least. First, Olympia will be free to run in the yard without being able to just run away. We are pretty sure she really likes living with us, but she is a herding dog and seems to have a need to ‘secure the perimeter’ of any area where she is. If there is no perimeter, she tends to keep on searching until she finds one. So we thought we’d better have one in place. Which reminds me of a joke one often hears about Saskatchewan – the place I grew up.They say it is so flat there that you can watch your dog running away for days.

       The second benefit to the fence is that our neighbors won’t be able to see that we aren’t caring for our lawn nearly as well as they are caring for theirs. 

       A neighbor from across the street came over one day last week to introduce herself to me, and her dogs to Olympia. Then she commented on our lawn. She told me that neither of the previous two owners of our house had watered the lawn – meaning it hadn’t been watered by anything more than rain for the last eight years. 

       I thought it looked pretty good, considering. It’s not like a putting green by any means, but is still alive and somewhat lawn-like, even if it is a light greenish-yellow-brown color.

       Then my neighbor, in a not –too-subtle assumption that I would be different, proceeded to tell me about the alternate nights watering schedule. She also told me that she believes our home’s ancient sprinkler system does not have timers to turn on and off during the night hours, so that it will be understandable if perhaps we don’t abide by the watering schedule.She certainly wouldn’t tell on us, she said with a warm smile.

       I didn’t reveal that Tom and I also have no intention of watering our grass. 

       One of the distinguishing features of our newly-acquired home is that it was built in response to the energy crisis of the late 1970s to be more environmentally sound than many other homes.This has little to do with the reasons we bought it, although it does explain many of the unique architectural features we found so appealing. 

       Still, we feel it would be reckless to ignore our new home’s environmental benefits, and suspect the previous owners felt likewise. Probably like them, we think it is a ridiculous waste of resources to water grass – especially in a part of the country that is either on the brink of drought, or fully in drought.

       And we certainly do not intend to get into a “my grass is greener than yours” or “my power mower is better than yours and has a refrigerated cup holder” neighbor one-upmanship competition. 

       At the same time, another benefit of not watering grass in a place often on the brink of drought is that the grass doesn’t grow that quickly – or need mowing as often. As Tom and I have no intention of ever mowing the grass ourselves, a failure of the grass to thrive will mean a saving of our monetary resources too. In fact, when the owner of a landscaping company came by to ask for business (sent by a neighbor perhaps?), she actually seemed to agree with me about my plans, and said they would only cut when the grass needs it – rather than on any sort of once-a-week schedule. I scheduled her first visit for the second week of September. 

       So, the fence is going up, and I only wish it was going up faster. I look forward to getting to know my neighbors better, and hope that if they can’t see my yard, we may even become friends. 

       And the yard itself will remain a private greenish-yellow-brown space for Tom, Olympia and me – and the occasional grouse, bunny and butterfly.

       One final wonderful thing about the fence is that my parents are paying for it, and we are very grateful for that. 

       In return, we have offered them naming rights for the fence, just as major donors are able to name sports stadiums and hospital wings. 

       And if anyone else wants the right to name any other part of our home, we can also offer the chance to name our new custom bookcases, our new interior railings, our (hopeful) hardwood floors of the future, our (hopeful) new kitchen cabinets and lighting of the future, our (hopeful) bathroom remodels of the future, or our (hopeful) eventual installation of solar panels and/or a micro-wind turbine. 

       Kindly contact our lawyer (me) for details.

Nature Up Close

       We had been hoping to move into our new house this past Saturday, but as literally none of our renovation projects had been completed, we put off our move for a week.
       Still, I spent much of the weekend at the new place, hoping that some worker or another would show and do what had been promised.
       Instead, I had a lot of time to myself. And I spent much of that time looking out the side window – rather than out at the driveway. I knew looking at the driveway would be fruitless, because just as a watched pot never boils, a watched driveway never delivers a handyman. 

       Anyway, while looking out the window, I noticed some lovely things.
       For instance, a large bird – possibly a grouse – walked by. A cute, white-tailed bunny rabbit (a future friend of Olympia, perhaps) meandered under some bushes. A rather large butterfly fluttered by. And I realized that I have Aspen trees growing wild in my yard – with perhaps 10 saplings sprouting here and there. One of them is already around 7 feet tall, and next spring, I’ll transplant it to a location where I can watch its delicate leaves tremor all year long.
       I don’t have the broad mountain view I had in our old home. I won’t be able to watch the sun set over the mountains from the distant comfort of my living room. But it feels like nature is all around me at our new home – pressing against our windows, blowing through the trees, sharing the ground I walk on.
       I think I’m going to like it here.

Parking

       One of the unexpected benefits of having most businesses around here in strip malls is that the strip malls have parking lots. This might be obvious to those who already live in the suburbs, but to me, it means a whole new comfort in driving. 

       If I wanted to go to a shop or business downtown, or in the neighborhood near Tom’s office, I had to steel myself in advance for the whole parallel parking thing. This included the stress of looking for a place to park, worrying about being late for an appointment if I had to circle for too long looking for a place to park, getting into the parking spot efficiently if I did find a place (without holding up traffic and without hitting any cars), worrying that the meter would expire before I got back, and of course, worrying that I’d forget where I had parked the car (since the parking spot often was nowhere near my destination. 

       You can laugh all you want, but let’s face it. Down deep, everyone would prefer not to have to parallel park.

       I actually failed my first drivers’ test -- a great way to spend one’s 16th birthday -- because of a parallel parking “issue”. At least it was an issue to the person testing me.

       In my defense, I should say that this particular tester had a reputation for failing young drivers on nearly any pretext. It was well known that anyone assigned to her was likely to go home unhappy. But there was really no way out once I learned I was one of the unlucky victims who had to drive for her...

       And in fact, everything was fine until I was told to parallel park on a busy downtown street. When I backed into my spot, the car touched the curb. It was not anything hard or abrupt – nothing which shook the car or anything. I smoothly pulled forward and continued gliding into the spot. 

       But the nasty witch conducting the test said that if a child had been sitting on the curb, with his legs hanging down into the street, I might have hit said child and crushed said legs. 

       I replied that I thought it inappropriate and unnecessarily risky to even attempt to park in a place where a child was already sitting on a curb with his legs hanging in the street. I told her I would think it wiser to find another spot instead. And really, should a child even be allowed to sit unattended with his legs hanging into a busy downtown street? Where was his parent or guardian? 

        You can see, perhaps, why I became a lawyer. But the tester didn’t seem impressed. 

       When I re-took the test a few months later, I successfully parked without running over any imaginary legs. But my confidence had taken a blow. And it seems I have never quite recovered.

        In my new 'hood though, I can just drive up practically anywhere and with virtually no effort, pull into a parking spot, often remarkably close to the door of the business I wish to enter. And the parking spots here are huge. They appear to have been designed specifically for mini-vans and SUVS, all pulling a horse-trailer, and with room for obese people to comfortably open each and every door as far as the hinges will allow without fear of dinging the next car over. And frankly, there is so much space out here that there rarely even is a next car over.  You could probably park sideways -- across two or three spots -- and not even cause a raised eyebrow.

       The stress of parking is gone – entirely.

        I hate to say it, but I may never go downtown again.