Running Roughian

I had the great luxury recently of running in Victoria!

The sea air, the sound of the waves on the rocky beaches, the snowless pathways; absolutely fantastic! As I ran along buoyed up by endorphins and the environment I smiled and said good morning to all the people I met along my run, but to my amazement, few of them replied in kind. Most ignored me, some looked surprised that I spoke to them.

This made me wonder if people in Victoria are less friendly than the ones where I currently live. Most days when I run I smile and say good morning to the people I meet and most of them do reply in kind. Is Victoria a less friendly city?

Then it occurred to me, maybe it’s me!

Or more specifically, maybe it’s my black eye; which has, with the advancing days (5 since the incident) has begun to look more like a strangely applied eyeliner and blush combination as it has formed strawberry coloured lines above and below my eye and flaring out at the outside edge in an almost ancient Egyptian like fashion.

Are people not being as friendly as they could be because they take one look at my black eye that is now in the process of turning an interesting combination of grey-greeny-yellow and pinky-red? Do people see me as a reprobate running ruffian? Me in my dark blue baseball cap and dark running clothes do I look like a menacing marathoner?

Or could it be that they see me - well, see my eye, and are immediately struck dumb with shock and sorrow at seeing me so badly abused? Do they think I have suffered at the hand of my abusive (albeit nonexistent) husband or my equally non-existent abusive boyfriend? Perfect strangers resisting the urge to stop me and ask me if I’m all right. Are people making judgements about me based on my black eye? Do they see me with my baseball cap and black eye and think - better avoid her? Would they treat me differently if I could divest myself of my bruises and my baseball cap, would they be more receptive then?

Social experiments have been run and have proved that people’s response and behaviour changes based on the appearance of the stranger they are confronted with. “Pretty” skinny women have been sent out as “Damsels in distress” asking for assistance or dropping their groceries in a public place in the hopes that some generous do-gooder will be willing to help. The same person was dressed in a “fat suit” and sent out to the same places and perform the same acts of distress and have received less assistance.

Judgements are made every day based on appearance alone. I’m not a bruiser, I just have a bruise.

Christmas Day

It’s Christmas morning, and I’ve woken early, as I do most Christmases but this year it doesn’t feel like Christmas.

This year has felt distinctly un-Christmas-like despite the almost 40cm of snow that have fallen in the past 4 days; or maybe that’s part of the problem. My Christmases, in recent years, have NOT involved snow of such magnitude - I visit my parents at Christmastime to get away from the snow.

I am almost completely convinced that the composers of such classics, “White Christmas” and “Winter Wonderland” lived in California and had a romantic idea of what snow at Christmas means. As for me, as I sit here sporting an “impressive” black eye from a freak snow shovelling accident - “Honestly officer, I accidently hit myself in the face with a shovel handle” - I’m not so keen on the white stuff and am seriously thinking I need to propose Christmas in Cancun next year!

Another reason it doesn’t feel like Christmas to me is that we’ve not been able to do all our traditional Christmastime activities. With all the snow, rather than heading out to a mall on one of the days leading up to today and just having a wander around, we opted for the more “SWAT Team approach” to shopping - plan your campaign, then get in and get out as quickly as possible!

The other traditional thing we missed out on this year was attending Christmas Eve service at a local church. We aren’t a religious family but still we like to go to church on Christmas Eve and listen to the readings and sing the hymns & carols; but this year, bad weather and flight delays meant that there wasn't time enough to get to the church service. That Christmas Eve glow was lost this year; I always feel strangely uplifed and decidedly Christmasy after attending church. This year, the whole tone of the season seems to be missing.

And I imagine, with the snow, our Christmas day tradition of walking on Crescent Beach will also become yet another missed tradition.

I draw comfort from tradition, especially at Christmas; the tree, the food, the activities, the company. I guess I still have the tree, the food (my mum makes the best Christmas baking on the planet) and the company - 75% is still a passing grade. And if I really stopped to think about it, the most important Christmas tradition for me is the company and I did manage to be with my family at Christmastime!

That, for me, is the ultimate tradition and one, if it is within my power, I will never miss!

The more I think about it, the more I realize how lucky I truly am for being able to spend Christmas with my family. I have been grouchy about the weather and disappointed with the missed traditions, but there are many people that cannot, for many reasons even be with the ones they love and care about this Christmas and I am truly thankful that I am not one of them.

My heart goes out to all who cannot spend Christmas with those that they love. I have to go now and hug my family and thank them all for making Christmas day special. And to all of my friends who I cannot be with this Christmas day - I’m sending you a virtual hug in the form of this blog. I hope you all get a chance to read it and know that I care about you.

In this season (as with all the year) it is important to hug your family and friends and show them that you care.

Happy Christmas to all!

Home for the Holidays

As I was checking in at the airport today for my Christmas trip to my parent's place the Airline employee asked me if I was heading home. My response was; "I'm heading to my parent's place for Christmas".

Where is home? I began to wonder...

If you believe the saying; "Home is where the heart is", but that doesn't help me much. My heart tugs me in different directions for different reasons.

Direction 1:
Where I currently live, I have a lot of really good friends and, a few months ago when I was thinking of moving to Victoria, BC, my heart said "stay where your friends are". I have some awesome friends who care a great deal about me and who have proven that they will be there for me when things get tough. My heart knows the importance of having friends like that in my life.

Direction 2:
About seven years ago I lived in Victoria, BC and I loved living there. The ocean at my doorstep and the mountains just beyond, the temperate climate and the natural beauty made living there almost idyllic. The weather made it possible to run and cycle outside year-round allowing me to be active and healthy. The heart knows the importance of feeling alive!

Direction 3:
Finally, the one place my heart always calls me back to is my parent's place, especially at Christmas time. I have never lived at the address my parent's now abide at. I actually haven't lived in the same city (technically) as they have since I was 17; but I have been very close to my mother for almost as long as I have been out on my own (if not longer). I have a wonderful relationship with my mum, I would consider her among my closest friends and I have, for many years, felt very fortunate to have her as my mum. Both my parents are very loving and would be willing to do just about anything for their kids. My heart knows the importance of family.

So you see, I'm not sure where my "home" is; if it were up to my heart, it would create a world where it would be possible for my friends, family and ideal location could coincide. Until my heart figures out how to make it possible. I will endeavour to have my home be where ever and when ever I am in the presence of those that I love and that love me.

Where ever you are this Holiday season - I hope you are Home for the holidays.

Dear Heart

Today would have been Beau's 16th birthday. I thought it would be a fitting day to post the poem I wrote to honour his memory...




I hold you in my arms as your life begins to fail;
Once so young and vibrant, now so old and frail.

I hold you close and hope so hard that love can turn back time,
But I can't make you well again, that power is not mine.

Through all the joy and happiness and all the pain and strife;
Through this and more, you were there, the true love of my life.

You’d comfort me when I was blue,
When I cried you licked my tears.
Through all the love and loneliness,
You've lasted all these years.

You've been my one true constant;
Beyond the lovers and the places.
Always there to draw me home;
Bringing much love to my spaces.

To you, I now must say good-bye;
Though I truly loose my heart.
For years now, you have been,
By far, the largest part.

As I watch the spark fade from your eyes,
I hope you are at peace.
I hope too, that for myself,
This pain I feel will ease.





The apartment now feels empty –
All your things are gone.
I am left with only memories,
For my love to rest upon.

You had such spark, you had such charm –
I never could stay mad
You were the best part of my life,
For that I'm truly glad.

I miss your bark, I miss your beg,
I even miss your sneeze.
Your wagging tail and all your love,
My suffering you’d ease.

I took too much for granted, when you were here with me;
Now I would give up anything to have you back with me.

The way you’d pounce at ocean waves,
Your snow angels on the ground.
How when you barked lying on your back,
your paws would flop around.

Your cold wet nose, your mischievous eyes,
The way you “made” my bed.
All these things I'll treasure –
I'll keep inside my head.

I hope, Dear Heart, I did enough.
Do you know how much I loved you?
I hope you had a happy life.
And know; I’ll not forget you.

Beau - you were my heart.





– In honour of Beau (19th December 1992 – 21st July 2008).

Forever & For Always

“Anytime & Always” is all I wrote in a recent email to a friend of mine. She was having a rough day and we had met for a brief chat so she could vent about her troubles. She sent me an email thanking me for letting her vent and my response to her was simple: “Anytime & Always”.

Simple, and yet not trivial.

There are several friends in my life that I would gladly do anything for, at anytime; if it was within my power; financially, physically, morally and ethically I would do it for them. These people I love. Not love in the “let’s get married and start a family” type of love – but love in the sense that I care deeply about each of them and, if I could and they needed me to, I would move heaven and earth to help them. Anytime & Always.

I tried penning a novel once, and there was a character “Cai” who would express her love and loyalty for her friends in the form of the phrase, “forever & for always” when they parted ways or thanked her, her response would be “forever and for always”
These two scenes embody this sentiment.

Scene One:
Cai had noticed Raynor’s attitude had changed, he’d become belligerent, argumentative, uncooperative and apathetic towards everybody and everything. She wanted to help him, find out what was wrong and offer what ever assistance she could.
She approached him one day in the Marketplace after witnessing him snap at yet another unsuspecting and well-meaning friend; “Hey, calm down, the guy just asked you a question.”
“I’m sick of everyone asking me questions” Raynor growled “why the heck can’t they just leave me alone. I don’t need help, I don’t need anything, I just need to be left alone.”
“We’re worried about you,” Cai ventured”
“I’m fine!” Raynor turned to leave and Cai gently put a had on his shoulder to stop him.
All Cai saw was a fist rapidly approaching her face, all she felt was a odd, solid sensation and a strange-sounding thud as his fist connected with her mouth and right cheek. She staggered back and found herself sitting on the floor with Raynor towering over her.
“Leave me alone & stay out of my life!” he bellowed.
Cai got up unsteadily, her left had over the very warm spot on her face, she could taste the blood from her split lip as she replied, quietly: “Forever and for always.”
Raynor turned on his heel and stormed off down the Marketplace corridor.

Scene Two (A month or two have passed)
“Raynor’s back” Sebastian said casually & quietly as he and Cai sat down to eat.
“I know,” Cai replied pushing the food around her plate with her fork. “I saw him in the Marketplace and I avoided running into him. He seems more like his old self now; I hope he’s managed to work things out. I wish I could have reached him then, but…” she shrugs and puts her fork down.
“You still care about him?” Sebastian asked, incredulous.
“Yes.” She said nothing more and resumed pushing the food around her plate; she didn’t feel like eating anymore.
“…Cai?” a voice from behind her said.
She recognised the voice, before she could respond, Sebastian got up hastily and excused himself and Raynor came into view.
“I need to talk to you. Can I sit down?”
“I’m sure you are capable and I guess you’re welcome to”
Raynor hesitated, “what?”
“Never mind, sit down.”
“Listen, Cai…” Raynor began and then hesitated – no words are adequate – he thought.
“You’re looking better,” Cai ventured.
“Yes, I’m feeling better. Look Cai, about what happened, I know I can’t ask you to forgive me, but really, I wasn’t myself. I can’t explain, not right now, but please believe me when I say it wasn’t me, well, it was, but…” he trailed off – I’m making a real hash of this – he thought.
He paused, trying to reform his thoughts so that something tolerably acceptable and intelligible form of speech came out of his mouth.
“I know,” Cai said quietly. She hadn’t looked him in the face since he’d sat down, choosing instead to stare at the unpalatable mess she’d made of her lunch plate. She looked up and found him staring intently at her.
“I know,” she repeated more confidently. “Do you remember the last thing I said to you before you left?”
A pained expression crossed his face and he squeezed his eyes shut. “Yes,” he said weakly.
“What did I say?” She pressed, “what were my exact words?”
He sighed, “forever and for always”. He dropped his eyes, no longer able to look her in the face.
“Exactly” she said softly.
He started getting up to leave.
“But do you remember what it means?” She asked and he was midway out of the chair.
He paused in mid-stand and looked at her askance. Unsure, he lowered himself back into the chair.
“I would have thought, after all these years, you’d know what I mean when I say: ‘forever and for always’”. She sighed. “I know you, I care about you, I will do anything within my power to help you, whenever you need me; I am here for you – forever and for always – no matter what. You see, you dolt, I love you. You are one of my oldest and best friends and I love you, forever and for always.”
He looked at her, his eyes getting moist, “Thanks,” he gurgled.
“But if you ever hit me again, I might have to get Maurter to beat the crap out of you.” She looked up at him and smiled.

Anyway, I’m not sure I could be as forgiving as Cai (or take a punch as well as she could), but that’s the beauty of fiction – it’s always more ideal and extreme than reality ever is.

In reality, I don’t know if my friends honestly know how deeply I do care about them. I hope they do. Maybe as a reminder, I should send them an email and sign it “forever and for always”.

Though I hope they never have troubled times; if they do and need to call someone, I hope that they remember that I am here ready and willing to help and then I can fulfill my promise – forever & for always.

The Windswept Sea

I found this on my laptop; I don't know when I wrote it. I thought it was worth posting...

She sat looking out at the windswept sea. The waves rolling and crashing; churning up sand from the bottom and turning the sea from a dazzling blue to a dull slate grey.

The day was sunny and warm but still the sea was tumultuous.

She watched silently as a small rowboat was buffeted by the waves. Empty and tethered in place by an anchor line, the small boat pitched this way and that – at the mercy of the relentless sea.

She felt sorry for the boat, trapped as it was, by its anchor line – not able to move with any purpose, not able to travel any distance; trapped – tossed by the sea.

She watched the little boat until she couldn’t bear it any longer then looked off in another direction.

Up in the sky, soaring above the sea, was a solitary bird, drifting on the air currents; going this way and that, wherever the wind took it.

Poor bird, she thought, all alone, being forced about by the wind.

She pulled her knees up to her chest and wrapping her arms around her legs she rested her chin on her knees.

She sat there, lamenting the fate of the lone sea bird and the battered rowboat.

Why does she not admire the rowboat for its steadfastness in the face of the chaotic sea?

Why does she not see the effortless freedom of the bird surfing the sky?

Why does she not see the beauty of the churning sea?

She did not hear those questions; though they came from within her heart. Dwelling in her own unhappiness, she had become deaf to the beautiful voice of her heart.

If I Ran My Life Like I Run On the Treadmill

As I write this, it is winter and I have begun struggling with the overwhelming and debilitating urge to hibernate. You see, where I live, it gets cold and dark and snowy in the winter. It’s not the romantic-one-week-of-snow-around-Christmas-time-to-make-it-look-really-pretty-like-a-postcard-Christmas type of winter, it is the-days-are-really-short-it-gets-dark-really-early-and-really-cold-and-miserable-and-Mother-Nature-sees-fit-to-deposit-tonnes-of-snow-and-freezing-rain-that-makes-footing-perilously-slippery type of winter.

The bears around here are smart, they DO hibernate; Mother Nature blessed the bears by having them fatten themselves up PRIOR to winter, so that they can BURN off the calories while they sleep though the miseries of winter awakening in the spring, thinner and ready to take on the new year.

Last year, I did my human equivalent of a bear’s hibernation; except with out the good fortune of being able to go without eating and just sleep for five months. For humans, hibernation is not so healthy; my hibernation involved, on a semi-regular basis; a box of crackers and some brie cheese followed by a large chocolate bar (or two), whilst being curled up on the couch watching whatever is on television and ignoring the nasty outdoors, venturing out only at times of necessity – for work, or for procuring food (always of a highly carbohydrate and caloric nature). Human hibernation at it’s basic: too much food and not enough fitness.

This year my hibernation is less extreme. I have joined a spin group and venture out two nights a week to spin with a group of friendly and dedicated cyclists. I have also discovered the fitness room in my apartment building. Well actually, I didn’t discover it – I knew where it was and walked past it almost every day. Yet, now, instead of walking past, I walk on in. This year’s hibernation also involves running on the treadmill instead of using the excuse that I can’t run because running outside in the winter is perilous.

Now, don’t get me wrong, treadmill running is not without its perils too, the main one being BOREDOM.

Treadmill running is inherently boring; the scenery doesn’t change, you are always looking at the same walls, making no forward progress. Not only that but, right in front of you, glaring at you, almost taunting you to stop – is your time in big bold LED digital numbers, ever so slowly counting up.

To alleviate this boredom I have come up with some diversions; the first one being doing math in my head; by dividing the total run time into fractions and then counting each fraction as I get to it. On my longer runs (up to two hours long) I’ve been able to divide the time into 24ths, for an hour run that works out to 2.5 minute intervals; this allows me to distract myself and thus make the time seem to go faster – Divide and conquer.

The other distraction I find on the treadmill is the graphical display. I choose a run setting that has varying terrain and so there is a graphical indicator that shows how steep the incline is by displaying stacks of squares, the taller the stack the greater the incline. Each stack is a ten second increment so every 30 seconds the terrain changes and I can look ahead at the upcoming terrain and pick a stack of squares like a signpost in the distance and watch it come ever closer until it passes off to the left and I have to look to the right again to find another signpost. This makes me feel like I am making tangible progress on my run even though my true scenery is not changing.

Another way combines the first two. Each time I make another fraction of my run or pass another signpost I give a little inward celebration. Celebrating even the smallest victory seems to help.

One day I realized, as I was on my 21st 24th, that I could adopt this same strategy to the chaos I call an apartment and in the rest of my life.

I have a million tasks that I have to complete and I don’t know where to start. Like the daunting realization at the beginning of the long run, overwhelmed by the apparent enormity of the run in its entirety; all tasks together seems insurmountable. But if I were to separate them out into smaller tasks that were achievable over a shorter space of time, I could easily make progress. Divide and conquer the total chaos in smaller chunks.

I could substitute the math in my head that I use as a distraction with listening to music or trying to make some sort of game out of the process. I could write out the subtasks and cross them off as I complete them, showing me my tangible progress that I so like to see.

It’s funny how you can approach totally different situations with similar solutions. Not to mention, it’s terribly odd the things I think about whilst running…yet another good distraction from the monotony of hibernation-avoidance.

Happy Hibernation, err I mean Happy Winter!

Connections

I have been thinking a lot about connections lately and how vitally important they are.

On the edge of hyperbole; an argument could be made that gravity is a vital connection, after all, without it, where would we be? At the mundane end of the spectrum; timing your departure from work so that you can “connect” with the bus that will take you directly home from work could be considered an important connection. Spend any length of time observing travellers in any major international airport and you’ll see how important connections are to them – racing though the terminals from Plane A trying to catch Plane B. Or what about the travelling salesman, who only has a finite amount of time in any given city to connect with potential customers to make his monthly sales quota. Or what about the power cord and the plug, if didn’t connect, I wouldn’t be able to compose this rambling. Connections matter.

But there are other forms of connection that really started me thinking on this subject; ones that are more soul satisfying.

About two months ago on an unseasonably warm day in the late fall, I went for a walk in the river valley and took pictures of the last of the turning leaves on the trees. I connected with nature and felt renewed. Though it could also be argued that I disconnected from my technologically controlled life, but maybe that’s a topic for another rambling. I did connect with nature that day, and I did feel a lot better for the experience. Feeling the sun on my face, seeing, really seeing, all the nuanced colours on the leaves helped me to feel grounded and alive.

In the past, when I’d get really busy, I would go days without connecting with anyone. No phone calls, no emails; finally realizing that I was disconnected and discontent. But it’s hard to stay disconnected for long, given the vast numbers of ways there are these days to connect; phone, email, text messaging, social networking sites, heck even just occasionally Twittering or updating your Facebook status is a way of saying – “hey, I’m here and this is what I’m up to”; sometimes they are even passive cries for help; “please, reach out and connect with me”.

This past week, as I was in the midst of a really stressful day and I began texting a friend who was having a similarly crappy day. At the end of the day, on my walk home, I was passing his office building and I thought – “I really could use a hug”. Next thing I know, I was in the lobby of the building chatting with him, commiserating about our days and connecting. As we parted, as we did when we met, we hugged; I walked the rest of my way home feeling refreshed, that brief connection was enough to brighten my day.

Sometimes it can be as simple as a “good morning” from a passerby, a stranger acknowledging a fellow stranger. Or a conversation with the friendly sales clerk in the grocery store that you see every time you pick up the essentials. Or maybe just a text message from a friend to say – “Hey, I was thinking about you.” It certainly makes me feel less alone in the universe.

Now, at times, when I get too busy to make time for my friends and I start feeling discontent and disconnected, I once again realize the importance of connecting and immediately make an effort to connect. It doesn’t have to be a lavish party for the masses, even something as simple as meeting for coffee just to say hi, or even as basic as a phone call or as brief as meeting for a hug on the way home, is all that’s required for me to feel more connected with the people around me, part of a bigger picture.

I have to go now; I have some phone calls to make and some emails to write.

I’ll connect with you all later.

Slushy Parapets

My run today took me alongside the river and as I ran, I watched the little floating patches of ice meandering their way down the river. They were a myriad of shapes and sizes. What stuck me as odd about them was they way they all had scruffy tufts of slush along their outer edges, looking like white & snowy parapets; as if Mother Nature had gotten out the grater and a large chunk of ice and shaved little piles of ice shards along the entire circumference of each little icy plateau.

It’s funny how Mother Nature has a way of making the most mundane look really beautiful. I have had the good fortune of seeing some really spectacular sunsets from the comfort of my balcony of my high rise apartment. Even though the icy travellers are harbingers of winter and the long coldness that will inevitably descend upon us; I could not help think of them as beautiful; like the glittering of hoarfrost on a bare gnarled oak tree or the glistening of the same tree after a freezing rain as the sun hits it early in the morning. Even in the midst of the apparent ugliness and dormancy of winter, beauty can be found.

I got to thinking about how the icy parapets had formed on each of the frozen travellers. I thought it must be caused by the collision of the wayward ice, as they float down the river, they careen off each other; merging briefly, transferring and building up their slushy edges before parting ways and meandering on down the river as separate little voyageurs.

This meeting and parting is a lot like people; meeting, transferring knowledge and emotions and then parting again each a bit built up by having come into contact with the other person. Each of us grows a bit, having met and interacted with another person.
Whether it something as obvious as a student learning something new from their teacher or learning bits of trivial during a party or other gathering or the more subtle way that a person feels stronger having met with a friend and during the course of their conversation, unburdened themselves of emotional or mental baggage they’d be carrying. Both people benefit; the one who unburdens oneself feels stronger and more free, and the friend who was able to be there for them feels better for having been able to help. The meeting and brief merging leaves neither person unchanged, even if the changes seem imperceptible, change has still occurred and our scruffy edges, our personal parapets have been altered by the interaction as we meander our way though life.

Learning Life Lessons from the Most Unexpected Teacher

This past summer was, arguably, the worst summer of my life (thus far). It was harder than the summer between 8th and 9th grade when my parents ripped me from my comfortable life in Edmonton and dragged me to the friendless wasteland of Winnipeg, where I spent that first summer having migraine sized headaches and threatening to run away. Worst still than the summer I had my heart broken by a man I loved (come to think of it, I’ve had a couple of summer heartbreaks like that).

But this past summer was, by far, the worst one.

This was the summer I had to say good bye forever to the one who has had the biggest part of my heart for the last 15.5 years. I had to euthanize my dog, a Maltese named Beau.

Beau and I met quite by chance. He was born to the dogs that were owned by the couple I was renting a room from during my second year of University. I got to meet him when he was 2 weeks old, as he was born while I was away on Christmas vacation. He was this little white puppy no bigger than a guinea pig, he'd come stumbling over and I'd pick him up and he'd fall asleep in the crook of my arm. That's when I fell in love. Being a student it wasn't my intention to own a dog, it wasn't practical; however, being 19 generally means that practicality gives way to desire and that's how Beau became the love of my life.

Beau was a great dog. We had our problems and our fights and yes, both tears and blood were shed but still and all, he was awesome.

In retrospect I learned a lot from him, he helped me grow.

He taught me the true meaning of…

Unconditional Love:
Beau would always comfort me when I cried; he'd come and try to lick my tears. There were times when I would yell at him for doing something bad, he would shy away for a minute or two then he’d forgive me for being angry and would bring me a toy and ask me to play with him. I wish I could comfort others so whole-heartedly and be as quick to forgive and forget.

Tolerance:
Beau was adaptable; he lived at ten different addresses in four different cities, in three different provinces and as long as he had one or two constants (either me or my parents and his toys), he was happy. I wish I was more adaptable like Beau.

Determination & Tenacity:
Beau was a fighter; not in the sense that he was an attack dog, though he did try and take on other dogs and he barked at skateboarders and really tall men in hats (don't ask me why) but he was a fighter because with all his medical problems over the years (a bad heart and bouts of pancreatitis and two episodes of having a pinched disk in his neck) he still carried on trying to be the Beau he had been for all those years. He just kept keeping on - I should have such strength.

Resourcefulness:
Beau knew how to amuse himself. He’d often disappear off and find a toy and I would hear him in another room playing by himself, tossing his toy and barking at it. He was also good at getting out of collars and out from behind barricades – he was a canine Houdini. I should be so well able to entertain myself and get myself out of entanglements.

Bravery & Acceptance:
Less than two months before he died Beau got very sick and was diagnosed as being in renal failure; his kidneys were failing. He spent three days a week in the vet clinic on IV fluids during the day and coming home with me in the evenings. Though it all he still remained the gentlest of souls; he freely got into his carrier in the morning as if knowing the needles and incarceration was meant to be of benefit to him. I should be as stalwart in the face of illness.

And Ultimately, Strength & Compassion:
This wasn’t as much a trait that Beau exhibited as much as it was something he taught me to have; for the day came when I had to make the decision to end his suffering. I had been telling people for weeks that there was no way I could actually ask the vet to euthanize Beau, part of me felt it would be like taking a life; but the day came when the sadness I thought I saw in his eyes and the limpness of his spirit made me feel that I was being selfish with all the poking and prodding and almost daily vet visits and the decision had to be made. I hope it was the compassionate thing to do and it was what Beau wanted.

Since his diagnosis of renal failure and subsequent death, I have looked back over his life and wished I had spent more time with him. Not been too lazy to bother or so quick to push him away when it wasn’t convenient for me to have him being playful or affectionate. This is the last lesson he has taught me – the importance of freely loving those that you love and not taking them for granted.

RaM is born.

I have thought for years that I should start a blog (and one or two of my friends have often tried to nudge me in that direction). Finally, now is the time; the random thoughts and occasional strange occurrences that I am subjected to require, nay demand, an outlet; and I guess this is as good a place as any.
I am an average person, leading an average life; but even the most average among us has interesting stories to tell.
I originally thought I could set up a web site to which people could send in strange, amusing and sometimes embarrassing stories that have happened to them; I would modify them slightly to protect the author from ridicule and regret so they could remain anonymous. Each story would start off with the phrase “My name is Anonymous and this is my story” but not being too internet hosting savvy, I thought it might be too much trouble, and I was afraid, if I opened a site up to the masses I’d get some unfavourable responses and that some of the stories I received would be less than palatable for me to even read let alone post.
So I’ve decided to keep it simple and just stick to this blog to house my own ramblings and the occasional second-hand story that I think is worth telling. I will endeavour whenever possible to get permission to post the second-hand accounts and will obfuscate the names of the individuals in my blog. Not all of the ramblings here will be true stories and not all of them will be humourous, but hopefully all will entertain or simply leave you with a thought or two to ponder.

Welcome to my Ramblings and Miscellany.