World's Most Ridiculous Dog Part Deux

Seriously?

This goes on All The Time.

All day.

ALL night.

Every night.

And when he's not passed out and snoring so loud you'll swear his furry snout is going to vibrate and detach itself from his muzzle, he will sit and stare at me, trying to will his thoughts into my head, which are always the same three thoughts:

1. Feed me.

2. Take me outside to poop, but that of course depends on how long you wait to open the door.
Or if the ground is wet. Wet paws are the worst. So I don't do dew.

3. My bed still isn't soft enough so add a blanket or a pillow preferably one that smells like you or a stuffed animal why aren't you moving faster I thought I made myself pretty clear wha--SQUIRREL!

Try sleeping, or reading, or meditating, or watching a movie, or entertaining friends with him in the room.

He's not so much a dog, as he is some unique form of torture.

World's Most Ridiculous Dog

Shameless Self-promotion

I posted this blurb on Facebook, but since some of you might not be on FB, I'll reiterate here. Forgive me if you are forced to read this nonsense twice.

If you have, here's a pretty peony for you. The end, move on, nothing to see here, keep walking.

 

I am not good at self-promotion. I don't know if it's just my nature or because I'm a Canuck or I'm channeling my inner-British-heritage reserve, but I am just not comfortable tooting my own horn. That being said, I do like to share good news, not so much for the back-patting (which also makes me feel all squidgy inside) but in order to encourage other budding writers, young and old, who may be hesitant to take that leap and send their work out into the world. Also, it lends legitimacy to my days spent on long walks or staring out the window. This is not wool gathering, it's processing information for future material. It qualifies as real work, people.

Just before we left for a trip to Jamaica, oh, a year or so ago (too lazy to look up the date) I learned of a contest for an anthology of travel/camping/cottage stories. When I say "just before" I mean that literally, as in hours before we were leaving.

Luckily the contest rules stated it was acceptable to submit previously published work. Over the past ten years or so, I've had about fifty stories published in various newspapers, magazines and anthologies here in Canada and the U.S. (something else most people don't know about me.)  I figured I'd just attach a few of those to an email and carry on packing for the trip. Easy peasy.

However, the attachments didn't attach.

Since my stories almost always come in at 800 words, I thought heck (more like ah, bloody hell and holy Moses on a bagel) I could just type in a few in the body of an email.

I weighed the urgency of packing vs sending in a few stories which may or may not win, but in the end, I sat down, typed like mad, then forgot all about it. (I learned to SCUBA on this trip to Jamaica, the thrill of which pretty much blotted out all and any other experiences before and after the trip.)

(I like talking in brackets. I feel like I'm whispering in your ear. There should be an "aside" font. Also, there is a great need for a sarcasm font. But I digress. Which is another character trait of writers.)

Quite a while later I learned that I won the contest with one of my stories, then yesterday I was asked if they could use a second one as well. So despite the fact that the dog was barfing up thongs and I'd had no sleep for several nights in a row and it was pouring rain, yesterday was a Good Day.

The anthology is tentatively titled "Never Light A Match In The Outhouse: Funny Stories From Cottage Country."  Not what I'd use as a title, but they never asked me my opinion.

Congratulations, Lake Louisa Loonies!

Once again, our friends and neighbours from Lake Louisa participated in the annual dragon boat race to raise money for the Missing Children's Network (Enfant-Retour Quebec) and I'm so proud of our team. We came in once again! More importantly, the 22 teams raised over $100,000 for the charity which helps the search for missing children. Way to go, Loonies!

The win!

Captain Tom.

Doug and Jelly Bean.

I've been through the desert...but not on a horse with no name.

And boy, do I love me some desert. (Desert, not dessert, although I've never met a dessert I didn't like.)*

We just got back from five days in Arizona, some of them spent in Scottsdale and the rest in Sedona. You can't beat Sedona for its laid back, hippy, artist community vibe. I love it there even though it was hot as blazes. But, it's a dry heat. You know it's hot when the weather guy says "Hey folks, it's official, we're in the middle of a heat wave and we're just one degree below a record setting temperature."

Main street in Sedona

If you look closely at the middle of this photo, you'll see ruins dating back to 1125AD. Apparently people are allowed to hike up there. I'd rather see it from a chopper, thanks. It was over 100 degrees the day we were there.

We flew along the base of this canyon.

 

This is called The Devil's Bridge. Enlarge the photo and you'll see people huddled on the rock to the right. To the left is a narrow, bridge of rock. The chopper pilot said people routinely wave, but one afternoon, two girls decided to show off and instead of just waving, they did backflips on the bridge. He said it scared him out of his wits.

 
The scenery made up for the heat because it is gorgeous in Sedona. I've been there before, but this was Doug's first time. He suggested a helicopter ride with Red Rock Helicopter Tours. I'll be honest, I had to be talked into it. I was dehydrated from our walk but more to the point, I get motion sickness on a swing, so I wasn't sure how this was going to pan out. However, after climbing in the chopper the size of a Volkswagon Beetle, four of us (three passengers and the pilot, a retired Medivac pilot) took off for the wild blue (actually bright red-rocked) yonder.

We did the ancient ruins tour, twenty-five minutes of cruising through canyons and over peaks, sometimes so close I felt like I could reach out the window and touch the rock. The sensation was nothing like I expected. I go up occasionally in my friend's small Cessna, and while I love flying (LOVE flying) after about 20 minutes, I am fighting to keep my lunch down. A helicopter, on the other hand, has more of a smooth sideways motion, almost as though you are gliding side to side on ice. I like it. I would hop on another helicopter in a nano second (although it took me a tad longer than that to hoist myself into the seat and strap in.)

We had strict instructions to wait at the front of the chopper, and not to ever, ever, EVER wander back to the back end because the tail rotor would pulverize us and probably ruin an expensive machine in the process.

Best part? The Secret Canyon and the ancient Sinaguan First Nation's cliff dwellings in Boynton Canyon built between 1125 and 1200AD. (Sinagua is Spanish for "without water.") For closer shots of the ruins, go here.

Can you tell I'm having fun?

Our little red chopper.

*That's not altogether true. I hate tapioca, if that's classified as a dessert. Also I'm not a big fan of trifle or tiramisu. Basically anything with custard in it. Although, having said that, creme caramel is my favourite. And creme brulee will do in a pinch.  So disregard what I just said. Oh, and though I tried a fried Mars bar, I can't say I'd order it again. I am also fairly confident I will never order a Fried Coke which is exactly what it sounds like.

A Spring Walk In The Rain

Forgive me for being absent. There's been a lot of travel this month and more to come. There are graduations and birthdays and moves to organize and so much more.

Today, despite the drizzly weather and strong wind, Buddy and I went for a long walk on the city streets.

This is what we saw.

Aren't the colours in this tulip divine?

Musée des beaux-arts de Montréal, for the upcoming Chihuly exhibit

Fading flowers, still beautiful

I know the artist is name Chihuly but I keep wanting to say Chipotle.

The last of the tulips.

Some interesting brickwork on Bishop Street

Another cat paw brick! A double one, in an alley off Bishop

This is the view from the alley. I almost got squashed by a delivery truck backing up. Don't you love this window? Wasted on a narrow alley, methinks. But such is Montreal. All kinds of surprises in hidden corners, tucked away from view.

Love these buildings, the old juxtaposed with the new. This is Montreal.

More carved stone.

I want to live here. There's a teensy deck on the second floor, and a large deck on the roof.

I took this by accident, but I kind of like it.

Educating Alice, by Alice Greenup

'A girlfriend should know her place, Alice. First comes the mates, then the ute, then his hat, dogs, horses and last of all the girlfriend. Get that right and you might just stick around. Try to jump the queue and you’re history.’
‘Well then, I’ll just have to be his mate.’
‘Girls can’t be mates, Alice.’
‘We’ll see.’

From this book:

I was lucky enough to win this book after a contest on Bush Babe's blog and it showed up at my doorstep last week, after hoofing it all the way from Down Under to my doorstep in downtown Montreal. (The link answers the questions we posed to Alice, the author.)

I've had a fascination with All Things Australian since I read My Brilliant Career by Miles Franklin and then saw the movie with Judy Davis and a very young Sam Neill. (sidenote: If you have a Kindle, you can download My Brilliant Career for free!) Written in 1901 and set in the Australian Outback, My Brilliant Career is about a headstrong young woman named Sybilla, smart, spirited and very rebellious, this is a woman who lives life on her terms.  She flips the bird to a traditional life when she refuses to marry and settle down. There's drought, a father who drinks and lands the family in debt, and ultimately triumph when she chooses a life of her making, that of a writer. And funnily enough, Educating Alice has a lot of these elements too.

I began Educating Alice with the hope that this might be a juicy, real life Australian adventure, and I was not disappointed. In fact, it has an opening that did not allow me to put the book down until I read it straight through to the end.

This is the memoir of Alice Greenup, a self-described city chick from Melbourne who at eighteen years old, tells her mum she's leaving university to "find herself" then hops on the back of a motorbike driven by her brother's mate. On a whim, she lands herself a job as a governess on a Queensland cattle station and falls in love not only with a handsome "jackaroo" but eventually, life in the bush. They end up marrying and buying a homestead of their own, but along the way there are many obstacles to overcome as she learns about cattle, drought and real life in the bush. Greenup offers a brutal and unflinching look at her life, and we learn this is one very determined and tenacious woman. She tackles all challenges head-on, and not just severe drought and financial setbacks, but most especially, an accident which she describes in such vivid detail it gave me chills. That she went on to become a winner in the Meat and Livestock Australia when she couldn't tell a bull from a cow, or that she fought her inner demons (she calls these dark thoughts her whispering "genie") and won Australian Women's Weekly's Most Inspiring Rural Woman is a testament to her courage and fortitude.

Besides enjoying the story of her life, I took particular delight in the discovery of new words and expressions that are unique to Australia. I kept a list of things I looked up, words and expressions that are second nature to Aussies but foreign to a girl from Canada. Here are some that made me smile:

A dingo's breakfast -  a "piss and a good look around."

"Farmers have built-in wanker radar." (So true.)

Jackaroo (and the female equivalent, jillaroo) - one who works on a cattle or sheep farm

Smoko - afternoon tea in the Outback (and by "outback" I don't mean a Subaru)

Larrikin - (loved this one)  a "mischievous or frolicsome youth"

Akubra - type of Australian cowboy hat, handled and worn in a Very Specific Way. Available in Montreal, should I ever wish to acquire one for myself, though now I'm afraid to touch one in case I pick it up incorrectly and embarrass myself. Maybe I'll stick to touques.

Ute - this is the Australian equivalent of the pickup truck.  I think it's short for Utility Vehicle

Bogey - shower (not a nose nugget)

Waddy - strange

Humpy - a small, temporary shelter made of tree branches and bark, used by Aboriginal Australians

Bitumen - asphalt road

Besser bricks - cast concrete blocks

Eskies - Aussie slang for portable coolers, also known as a "chilly bin" in New Zealand

Baked lamingtons - squares of sponge cake, dipped in chocolate and rolled in coconut.  Usually seen at school fairs and bake sales. This, in and of itself, is enough to make me want to go.

Brumbies in the sand hills - meat and veg mixed with batter and fried

Doona - it's a duvet!

So there you have it. 

If you'd like to read Alice's book, and you live outside Australia, you have three options.

1. Go to a bookstore in Australia.

2. Visit me in Montreal and read my copy.

3. Order it in eBook form for your Kindle.

There are no physical copies are available in the U.S., Canada or U.K. because the publishers are wankers. Not really. I just wanted to put my new found vocabulary to the test. I don't know if soft or hard cover copies are available in Sweden, Togo or Croatia either, but I rather doubt it. Again, wankers. But you know, this is the beauty of the Kindle. You can be anywhere in the world and download this book and be reading it in minutes!

Now if you'll excuse me, I'm off to whip up a batch of brumbies in the sandhills and lamingtons after I've had a nice, hot bogey.