Today was beyond lovely, we actually did not have to worry about heating until well after the sun went down. So we saved a few logs and enjoyed the sounds of melting. I think it may have reached 12 or 13 degrees today. I was raring to get outdoors and take the hell hound for a walk, but before I could do that I had some Dora Domestic chores to complete.
I scrubbed the bathroom, with the door closed, because German Shepherd puppies LOVE to help when it comes to bathroom cleaning. But she whinged and whined outside the door, I'm sure with the idea of helping me me out with her singing voice. Everyone knows that working to a beat makes it a lot easier.
Then I made the bed, with the door closed, because German Shepherd puppies think that they are the only ones in the world who can make a bed properly. I believe the secret is getting your ball stuck under the bed, then trying to crawl under to retrieve it. This effectively pulls the bed skirt and sheets nice and tight to the one side. But silly me, I opted for the one person show.
When I fired up the vacuum cleaner, well, lets just say that things got pretty darned exciting. There was some serious barking going on as well as a lot of feigned attacks on the beast of a machine. There was also lots and lots of running back and forth, not to mention some serious flips which ended up with puppy on her back with all four paws in the air. I only had to remake the bed once. Good times. Yeah good times.
After my chores were over we decided to put my Kamiks on so we could go for a walk. I told her that I was pretty capable of putting my boots on myself but she wasn't buying it. So after a little bit of yelling, on my part, and a lot of jumping, nipping and barking, on her part, I got my boots done up, my jacket on, and my feet out the door.
The walk was most excellent, the ground was thawing so I did not have to worry about landing on my ass...again. We went out to the back forty, I threw the obligatory snowballs over the bank for her several times. Then we walked out to the mailbox to get our junk mail. Question? How much is it costing the government for the rural postal delivery guys to carry junk mail and distribute it to all the people out here in the sticks? I don't mind at this point mind you, I can always use it for BTU's, but I just don't understand the concept. Does anyone actually even look at that stuff?
I'm sure that I don't have to tell all you dog lovers out there what happens when the snow begins to melt. We all think that we have been doing such a great job clearing up the doggy-doo piles during the winter months, when suddenly, like the Phoenix, they start to rise again. So even though I thought I was done my chores for the day I realized I had to take my trusty pooper shovel and scoop and get rid of all those pesky Phoenixes...Phoenixi? Phoenii? Hmmm. Anyway, I have to tell you a job that is disgusting at worst, mildly annoying at best, turned out to be a barrel of laughs. German Shepherd puppies love, love, love nice warm weather. And I'm pretty sure they think that humans are pretty stupid as they are always doing really dumb things. She must have put on at least ten kilometers as she charged around the yard while I worked. She zipped here and there, buried her head in the snow whenever she could, slid onto her belly like Bambi on ice (several times) and I believe mostly laughed at me. I in turn laughed my ass off watching her while she performed. It was the best time I ever had doing that job. No shit!
Monday, February 14, 2011
Saturday, February 12, 2011
I Should Have Stopped At Shake A Paw
Yesterday the dog finally worked up enough courage to go down the stairs all by her onesy. Then she did it again. There was great rejoicing. The sounds of "Good dog", and "brave dog" were heard all around the household. This morning, when I ventured downstairs in the hopes of changing the inside temperature from 9 degrees to something a little more tropical, she was quite happy to follow me without any encouragement from my part. Her descent was anything but graceful mind you, seeing as the last three stairs seemed to be more like a controlled fall then actual climbing down, but she followed me happily.
While I was busy scrunching newspaper, making a kindling grid, stacking reasonably dry wood, and lighting the whole she-bang, Shit For Brains, proceeded to chew on logs, insulation, laundry baskets, newspaper, and of course my slippers. Words such as, "Stop that." "Quit chewing that." "Let go of my slippers you retard", were heard emanating from the bowels of the Shack (palatial estate).
Then tonight as I made my way down the stairs to "throws another log on the fire", I flipped the switch on in the basement and lo and behold but who should already be down there? None other than the Spawn of Satan herself. Spawn, or The Beave, as I have taken to calling her, had been using her newly grown front teeth to taste the bottom stars.
Now you may think that I was a might peeved at her, and possibly myself, for actually encouraging her to learn this new trick. And of course you would be correct. What is that saying? Let sleeping dogs lie. It should really be, let dogs who are too scared to do something continue to be scared about doing it for as long as humanly (or canine-anly) possible. In order to rectify the situation I took her for a nice long walk this afternoon and proceeded to have a productive chat with her. I told her, in no uncertain terms, that she was to cease and desist all of these doggy shenanigans. You will be happy to learn that she responded well to my positive discipline by jumping up and down, burying her head in the snow, slobbering on my hands, nipping at the back of my heels, ripping my pant legs, and yipping every once in awhile when I managed to make contact with my fir stick of pain. All in all, I don't think she will do it again.
While I was busy scrunching newspaper, making a kindling grid, stacking reasonably dry wood, and lighting the whole she-bang, Shit For Brains, proceeded to chew on logs, insulation, laundry baskets, newspaper, and of course my slippers. Words such as, "Stop that." "Quit chewing that." "Let go of my slippers you retard", were heard emanating from the bowels of the Shack (palatial estate).
Then tonight as I made my way down the stairs to "throws another log on the fire", I flipped the switch on in the basement and lo and behold but who should already be down there? None other than the Spawn of Satan herself. Spawn, or The Beave, as I have taken to calling her, had been using her newly grown front teeth to taste the bottom stars.
Now you may think that I was a might peeved at her, and possibly myself, for actually encouraging her to learn this new trick. And of course you would be correct. What is that saying? Let sleeping dogs lie. It should really be, let dogs who are too scared to do something continue to be scared about doing it for as long as humanly (or canine-anly) possible. In order to rectify the situation I took her for a nice long walk this afternoon and proceeded to have a productive chat with her. I told her, in no uncertain terms, that she was to cease and desist all of these doggy shenanigans. You will be happy to learn that she responded well to my positive discipline by jumping up and down, burying her head in the snow, slobbering on my hands, nipping at the back of my heels, ripping my pant legs, and yipping every once in awhile when I managed to make contact with my fir stick of pain. All in all, I don't think she will do it again.
Friday, February 11, 2011
Walking and Thinking and Being Grateful About It
Today I woke up to a house that was a bazillion degrees below zero because neither of us stoked up the fire overnight, on purpose. Because neither of us likes to sleep when it is too warm anyway, and our wood pile is shrinking at an alarming rate, and we are too cheap to use oil, and it is the middle of February with still a bit to go before the warmish weather sets in. Yikes! This is now an every day occurrence, but this morning it was slightly chillier than it has been because according to our weather station it reached -24 sometime in the middle of the night. So this morning it was 11 degrees inside the house, it was the kind of morning where the bed is oh so nice and cosy warm, the kind of morning where it is way better to let the hubby get up and make tea.
Actually I was a bit surprised by the fact that it was that warm, considering that this house is actually a gigantic leaking bucket of heat. You see, the palace, or a.k.a., The Shack, was actually built in the 70's and has never been upgraded. The outside walls are 2x4 and only partially insulated, you can actually see daylight through some of the less hidden parts of the outside walls. The roof has a little more R value if you add the mouse droppings into the calculations. The heat ducting shouldn't really be called heat ducting, it should be called slightly tepid air ducting. When the wind blows, which it has been doing quite a lot since we moved here, it sucks 92.7% of the heat right up the flue. So when I talk about the state of the climate indoors I can say that the heat flew away. (Well I could say that if I wanted to speak in bad puns.)
Anyway. Because the day started out chilly, and the stove didn't really start heating the place until the after...the eveni...oh who am I trying to kid, it never did get this place warm. Because the day started out chilly I never did warm up to the idea of being out and about today, but out and about I did go. Dog poop waits for no man, or no cold woman either. So off we went to the back forty to run heedlessly through the snow drifts, nipping at pant legs and jumping up and down until getting whacked by a small branch of fir. (Many times.) For my part I did not do any of the heedless scampering into drifts, nor the nipping at pant legs, nor the jumping up and down, however I did do some...much...all of the whacking with fir.
When I wasn't busy trying to beat the dog I was allowing my mind to wander and was suddenly overwhelmed with the fact that here I was, over six thousand kilometers away from where I had lived only six months previous, and was walking on my property, not worrying about whether or not I remembered to hand in that report. Not worrying about staff evaluations, new purchasing systems, trying to explain concepts to people who did not give a shit. And better yet, knowing that I wouldn't have to worry about that tomorrow, or the next day, or the next, or the next, and so on, and so on.
So really waking up to a chilly house in the morning under my new circumstances is by and far so much better than waking up every morning to a warm house, with warm heated floors, at 4:30am, driving for an hour in the dark, getting to work and feeling like the weight of the world is crushing my spine, turning my brain into mush, and robbing me of years of my life.
Actually I was a bit surprised by the fact that it was that warm, considering that this house is actually a gigantic leaking bucket of heat. You see, the palace, or a.k.a., The Shack, was actually built in the 70's and has never been upgraded. The outside walls are 2x4 and only partially insulated, you can actually see daylight through some of the less hidden parts of the outside walls. The roof has a little more R value if you add the mouse droppings into the calculations. The heat ducting shouldn't really be called heat ducting, it should be called slightly tepid air ducting. When the wind blows, which it has been doing quite a lot since we moved here, it sucks 92.7% of the heat right up the flue. So when I talk about the state of the climate indoors I can say that the heat flew away. (Well I could say that if I wanted to speak in bad puns.)
Anyway. Because the day started out chilly, and the stove didn't really start heating the place until the after...the eveni...oh who am I trying to kid, it never did get this place warm. Because the day started out chilly I never did warm up to the idea of being out and about today, but out and about I did go. Dog poop waits for no man, or no cold woman either. So off we went to the back forty to run heedlessly through the snow drifts, nipping at pant legs and jumping up and down until getting whacked by a small branch of fir. (Many times.) For my part I did not do any of the heedless scampering into drifts, nor the nipping at pant legs, nor the jumping up and down, however I did do some...much...all of the whacking with fir.
When I wasn't busy trying to beat the dog I was allowing my mind to wander and was suddenly overwhelmed with the fact that here I was, over six thousand kilometers away from where I had lived only six months previous, and was walking on my property, not worrying about whether or not I remembered to hand in that report. Not worrying about staff evaluations, new purchasing systems, trying to explain concepts to people who did not give a shit. And better yet, knowing that I wouldn't have to worry about that tomorrow, or the next day, or the next, or the next, and so on, and so on.
So really waking up to a chilly house in the morning under my new circumstances is by and far so much better than waking up every morning to a warm house, with warm heated floors, at 4:30am, driving for an hour in the dark, getting to work and feeling like the weight of the world is crushing my spine, turning my brain into mush, and robbing me of years of my life.
Wednesday, February 9, 2011
Cold Day Out East
Yup it was a cold, cold day out east, and by cold I mean -8 Celsius. Now for all you people in cyberspace who are poopooing -8, tough noogies! Yes I grew up in weather that hovered in the -40's when I was a kid. Yes I walked to school in that kind of weather, uphill, both ways. Yes I thought that was freakin cold too. No I am not saying that -8 in anyway compares to -40, what I am saying is that right now, today, out here it feels freaking cold. There is something about the wind that just goes right through you.
I remember one time when I was a young 'un in the wilds of northern Ontario (snork) we decided to leave the small assed little town we lived in to go and shop in the big city. Before we left the thermometer hovered in around -35 or lower. Later when we got into into, shopping central, the temperature was hovering at the -15 degree mark and we all thought, "woohoo", until we got outside of the vehicle. You see the big city was located along side a big-assed lake, THE big-assed lake, which if anyone remembers their science lessons from grade school, by it's presence kept the air temperature warm-er, but the frigging wind coming off the lake drove huge icicles through your very bones. Its kind of like that, except not so extreme.
So today, right now, the wuss that I am, I stayed indoors and did indoor activities like chopping kindling, baking biscuits and watching the Sarah Conner's Chronicles, which by the way the jury is still out on, it has it's moments, and then it has some pretty serious non-moments. For example; in the first movie there is only one Terminator and it does some pretty serious collateral damage to the unsuspecting city dwellers. In the second movie there are two Terminators, one of which is the good guy, and they do some ultra serious damage to many, many unfortunate bystanders. (I will ignore the third movie in this diatribe because, frankly, it doesn't deserve to be mentioned at all.)
Well to begin with in this series you have Terminators up the wazoo, in fact I think there may actually be more Terminators walking around than there are actual people, and neither of the four remaining humans, or any of the other Terminators know. In fact I think the crime rate actually decreases in the city because all these Terminators are a bunch of Pansy-nators. Not that I am a huge fan of bloodshed but seriously WTF is wrong with the writers in this show? I'm on the first disc of the second season and so far I'm thinking that the main Terminator dude is probably a model that should have just been thrown onto the scrape heap as soon as it came off the assembly line. It took Arnold maybe a day or two to find Sarah the first time around before he started laying some pretty big whop-ass on people. This Terminator has been kicking around for a couple of years, give or take, and still hasn't been able to find anyone worthwhile to be mean to, let alone kill. He's like a 'tardinator or something, Linda Hamilton would have dropped kicked his ass into The Fifth Element where he would have become one of the clean up crew for Zork.
Plus he infiltrates the FBI and...oh never mind. I guess what I am saying is that the series pretty much bites moldy biscuits, but when it's cold outside and none of the movies you have appeals to you, and all your books are packed away, and your Kindle doesn't call to you, and you've caught up on all the Lexulous games then watching the Sarah Conner's Chronicles fills a void. If nothing else it makes you shake your head a lot causing you to actually use some muscles.
I remember one time when I was a young 'un in the wilds of northern Ontario (snork) we decided to leave the small assed little town we lived in to go and shop in the big city. Before we left the thermometer hovered in around -35 or lower. Later when we got into into, shopping central, the temperature was hovering at the -15 degree mark and we all thought, "woohoo", until we got outside of the vehicle. You see the big city was located along side a big-assed lake, THE big-assed lake, which if anyone remembers their science lessons from grade school, by it's presence kept the air temperature warm-er, but the frigging wind coming off the lake drove huge icicles through your very bones. Its kind of like that, except not so extreme.
So today, right now, the wuss that I am, I stayed indoors and did indoor activities like chopping kindling, baking biscuits and watching the Sarah Conner's Chronicles, which by the way the jury is still out on, it has it's moments, and then it has some pretty serious non-moments. For example; in the first movie there is only one Terminator and it does some pretty serious collateral damage to the unsuspecting city dwellers. In the second movie there are two Terminators, one of which is the good guy, and they do some ultra serious damage to many, many unfortunate bystanders. (I will ignore the third movie in this diatribe because, frankly, it doesn't deserve to be mentioned at all.)
Well to begin with in this series you have Terminators up the wazoo, in fact I think there may actually be more Terminators walking around than there are actual people, and neither of the four remaining humans, or any of the other Terminators know. In fact I think the crime rate actually decreases in the city because all these Terminators are a bunch of Pansy-nators. Not that I am a huge fan of bloodshed but seriously WTF is wrong with the writers in this show? I'm on the first disc of the second season and so far I'm thinking that the main Terminator dude is probably a model that should have just been thrown onto the scrape heap as soon as it came off the assembly line. It took Arnold maybe a day or two to find Sarah the first time around before he started laying some pretty big whop-ass on people. This Terminator has been kicking around for a couple of years, give or take, and still hasn't been able to find anyone worthwhile to be mean to, let alone kill. He's like a 'tardinator or something, Linda Hamilton would have dropped kicked his ass into The Fifth Element where he would have become one of the clean up crew for Zork.
Plus he infiltrates the FBI and...oh never mind. I guess what I am saying is that the series pretty much bites moldy biscuits, but when it's cold outside and none of the movies you have appeals to you, and all your books are packed away, and your Kindle doesn't call to you, and you've caught up on all the Lexulous games then watching the Sarah Conner's Chronicles fills a void. If nothing else it makes you shake your head a lot causing you to actually use some muscles.
Saturday, February 5, 2011
Sunny Days and White Grounds
Well what a beautiful day it was today, warm, around plus 4 at one point, sunny, with soft white powdery snow. Does that sound romantic? If it does you are on crack. We went for a snowshoe all around the property. Snowshoeing sounds all fun and whoopee, but let me tell you it can be hard with a capital H. After slogging through several million feet of snow (well maybe four or five in the worst spots) things can get pretty tough going. Sucking in great draughts of oxygen tough. My big brother, my hubby, and I decided to walk the perimeter of the estates today. It was the perfect day for it. It was hard but fun, oh and did I mention hard?
As I slogged through the stuff I started to think that it would be easier and cheaper for the army guys to do this instead of all those silly boot camp shenanigans they put new recruits through. The military trainers should just drag all the newbe's asses out somewhere into the bush after a good snowfall and say, "here you go kiddies, strap on a pair of these things and find your way home. Whoever makes it back gets to stay in the army, and as an added bonus stay alive." I bet you it would separate the haves from the weenies real quick.
Oh and a word to the wise, German Shepherd puppies are NOT helpful at all. In fact when you are trying to drag your legs up through the soft, deep, unyielding snow, this is the time your puppy will decide to try and hitch a ride on the back of your snowshoes. Over and over and over and over again. Bad puppy, very bad.
See here she is just trying to jump onto the back of those snowshoes...the bitch.
As I slogged through the stuff I started to think that it would be easier and cheaper for the army guys to do this instead of all those silly boot camp shenanigans they put new recruits through. The military trainers should just drag all the newbe's asses out somewhere into the bush after a good snowfall and say, "here you go kiddies, strap on a pair of these things and find your way home. Whoever makes it back gets to stay in the army, and as an added bonus stay alive." I bet you it would separate the haves from the weenies real quick.
Oh and a word to the wise, German Shepherd puppies are NOT helpful at all. In fact when you are trying to drag your legs up through the soft, deep, unyielding snow, this is the time your puppy will decide to try and hitch a ride on the back of your snowshoes. Over and over and over and over again. Bad puppy, very bad.
Thursday, February 3, 2011
Happy Groundhog's Blizzard
Holy blowing snowflakes Batman! Not all that long ago I was dreaming of a green xmas, and a greener New Year. Well as my aunt used to say, "shit fire and save the matches!" she ain't no green new year no mo.
I believe that without the wind drifts we ended up with fifteen inches of snow. That is a shite load of snow, most especially when you have several kilometers of roads to plow. Hubby got stuck with the tractor, then the truck got stuck, then the quad, then the tractor again. Then the neighbour got stuck, then hubby got stuck again, then I got stuck twice. Maybe we should have stayed in bed and dug ourselves out after the fact.
The irony is that right after the most assured fact that the ole ground hog did not see his/her shadow, today is the second day of the solar system course that I am enrolled in. Pretty sure if we had had solar panels we would have been trying to find them until spring. Now is that four weeks from now?
The irony is that right after the most assured fact that the ole ground hog did not see his/her shadow, today is the second day of the solar system course that I am enrolled in. Pretty sure if we had had solar panels we would have been trying to find them until spring. Now is that four weeks from now?
Tuesday, February 1, 2011
Hicks in the City And Piss in the Puppy
Being February 1st, and a Tuesday, I decided that a trip to the city would be a good thing. Not that I had a hankering to go to the city but because, tall, dark and brooding and I, are hicks living in the snowy sticks now, so we have decided to do the "buy in bulk thing" to try and reduce expenses by not running into town every forty five minutes. So it was time for a Costco run. What does February, and Tuesday, have to do with going to Costco you ask? Well it’s all about this budgeting thingamajig I have devised. Using my left over skills from my old life I fired up Excel one day and built a pretty spreadsheet with all these colours, and numbers, and formulas, and projections, and...well you get the idea. It is a thing of beauty! Evil but beautiful, because now it has taken on a personality of its own and it has become a sadist taking great joy at our pain and only allowing us a certain amount of dollars to spend in a month. Bastard! So February being a new month my pretty chart reluctantly agreed that we could spend some money on items which we require. And Tuesday was actually more my decision because it is a day not near the weekend, the weekends of course is where the stores turn into the black hole of Calcutta, where little old ladies will run you over with their carts in order to beat you to the “free” cracker samples people at the end of the aisles.
Well that was the plan anyway. But apparently the end of the world is neigh because of some kind of approaching snowstorm so everyone and their dog was in town stocking up for the main event. Either that or there was some kind of announcement suggesting to everyone that if they wanted to annoy the shit out of me they should immediately rush to the store and stand around in the middle of the freaking aisles leaving their carts parked diagonally so there was no way you could get around them while they pick their big fat noses! I mean really people WTF?
Speaking of everyone and their dog, guess who brought hers? Yes puppy went on a long truck ride today and was stuck in the back seat sleeping all day. Which meant that she didn’t get to go for her long walk, and instead had food and water to keep her strength up for the ride. Do you know what happens to a puppy when they do not get to expend their energy as per usual? Well I sure do! You get home and they turn into Beelzebub. When they are not busy running around knocking over everything they come into contact with they are busy chewing on anything they can sink their teeth into and usually that means your feet. They also become intent on trying to kill you by getting between your feet so they can try to trip you with every step you take. You know the saying that she’s full of piss and vinegar? If piss and vinegar means doggy speeders, then yeah, she was full of it!
Well that was the plan anyway. But apparently the end of the world is neigh because of some kind of approaching snowstorm so everyone and their dog was in town stocking up for the main event. Either that or there was some kind of announcement suggesting to everyone that if they wanted to annoy the shit out of me they should immediately rush to the store and stand around in the middle of the freaking aisles leaving their carts parked diagonally so there was no way you could get around them while they pick their big fat noses! I mean really people WTF?
Speaking of everyone and their dog, guess who brought hers? Yes puppy went on a long truck ride today and was stuck in the back seat sleeping all day. Which meant that she didn’t get to go for her long walk, and instead had food and water to keep her strength up for the ride. Do you know what happens to a puppy when they do not get to expend their energy as per usual? Well I sure do! You get home and they turn into Beelzebub. When they are not busy running around knocking over everything they come into contact with they are busy chewing on anything they can sink their teeth into and usually that means your feet. They also become intent on trying to kill you by getting between your feet so they can try to trip you with every step you take. You know the saying that she’s full of piss and vinegar? If piss and vinegar means doggy speeders, then yeah, she was full of it!
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