There really is no place like home. It’s familiar and comfortable and a place where you can relax. It’s the place where you can take off your bra, put on your pink bunny pyjamas and lie in bed all day eating ice cream and watching movies with the sound off and the closed captioning on. Which is precisely what I did on Saturday.

I was totally exhausted from the 2 weeks of constant conversation and also a tiny bit battered. I took a hard fall in Montreal while loading the car, and my left hip took the worst of it. 7 car hours later, the whole left side of my ass was throbbing and magnificently bruised, but I was home. (Thanks for another good drive Mr. Groovy) That was Friday and Saturday morning I awoke to triple gravity, lots of aching, a bit of throbbing and a burning desire for cherry ice cream. So once I managed to get out of bed and get in motion, Jack and I slowly took our morning perambulation around the block, and while I was in gear, I went to get a few necessities. You know, milk, juice, bread, eggs and Chapman’s Deluxe Black Cherry Ice Cream. The rest of the day is a bit hazy, but I’m sure there was a bit of feeling sorry for myself. Sunday morning was much the same, but I did manage to get a few chores done, and today the extra gravity is letting up, and there’s only a teacup’s worth of aching. So, to celebrate, I took Jack out to our wee forest for a walk in the freshly fallen snow. It was a beautiful day with a touch of blue in the sky, and the woods were quiet and tranquil, without a trace of wind to disturb the blanketed snow. Jack and I took our time, but we made it all the way around, and by the time we got back to the car, both of us were feeling closer to normal. These woods are home for us, too, and just like Dorothy said, “There’s no place like home.”

The big news around here today is the sudden closing of one of the largest snow removal contractor’s in the Pointe-Claire area. Snow is big business in this part of the world, and most households contract snow removal for their driveways, and they pay by the season and not by the number of visits.  After a significant snowfall, anyone without a garage moves their car to the side of the street (which side is determined by date) and then the contractors come with their big, tractor-sized, enclosed and comfortable snow blowers. The city itself has most streets plowed quickly, (Montreal does snow removal well) making the whole process quite manageable.

Today, when Jack and I were out for our walk we saw quite a few people shovelling their drives and most of them were grumbling about Bo Pelouse going out of business. It isn’t certain that any of Pelouse’s customers will get a refund and most of the other contractors don’t have the infrastructure to take on new clients at this point in the season. According to the morning news, one other major snow contractor picked up over 2,000 new customers in 24 hours. Thankfully, my mother-in-law uses a different company, who arrived late yesterday to blow out our driveway. My aching back was overjoyed to see them.

We had a total of about 15cm of snow overnight, and Jack couldn’t be happier. One of his very most favourite things to do is to lay down in the snow and roll around. He starts with his head, digging in his nose and then sweeping it back and forth. Once his head and whiskers are sufficiently rubbed cold, he wiggles his body around, making sure to get full contact with his belly and boy bits, which will be bright red by the time he comes back inside. I don’t understand the appeal of this behaviour, but it makes my Bubba happy, and that’s good enough for me.

I, on the other hand, am not that happy about the snow. It’s beautiful, but it’s heavy wet snow.  The kind of snow that packs well and makes a good hard snowball. It’s also the kind of snow that’s heavy to shovel, which is how I spent the morning. Jack and Angus kept me company, but they weren’t much help. It took about an hour to clear the sidewalk and patio, and by the time I was finished, the muscles in my back and shoulders were complaining. They still are, and boy Howdy am I stiff and tired. I doubt that I’ll be able to stay awake until midnight, so I expect I’ll greet the New Year in my sleep. That’s fine with me. I’m not a party kind of person at the best of times, and tonight my bed is where I want to be. Gosh, I must be getting old.

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I would like to take a moment to send my best wishes to our readers in Australia. The news we get from your country is frightening, and you’ve been on my mind. I hope you’re all safe.

 

 

Jack and I have hardly left the house today. We had freezing rain overnight, and the world is very slippery. First thing this morning, I took Jack out to the backyard for a morning pee and the poor boy fell twice on the patio before getting to the grassy area. He limped into the house and has been lightly favouring his right leg all day. I decided not to risk further injury by taking Jack out for a walk, and I went out carefully alone, to get ice melt for the patio and front walkway. Jack didn’t even ask to come with me. We’ve been out to the backyard a few times since then, and Jack has learned to hug the patio close to the house until you reach the garden, then across the dirt to the grass and back again. The other dog here, Angus, springs across the patio like a leaping deer, and if one leg slips, he can correct for it without falling. Angus is also only 7 years old. Jack is almost 12. Bubba didn’t; mind the forced inactivity too much. He found a comfortable chair and spend the day in it watching the news and looking for sympathy from all who walk past him. He’ll be fine. The limp is gone, just the indignity of it remains, and Jack will suck that dry soon. That’s OK. I fell last night and have a few bruises, myself, so I understand. My bruises are all on my ass, though, so I prefer to stand, not sit, which is good because Jack is sitting in my chair. Oh, the dangers of ice for the elderly. It’s due to get warmer here tonight, with continued rain. As long as it doesn’t freeze, I don’t mind. Wet doesn’t hurt.

Bonjour, ça va?

Jack and I have relocated to Pointe-Claire, Quebec, which is on the west island of Montreal. We’ll be spending two weeks here, visiting my mother-in-law, who will be 94 on the third of January. She’s a pistol, Mum is. She still does everything she did at 50, including baking (store-bought cookies just aren’t as good), shopping, driving, cooking, laundry, ironing (even underpants because they fit better in the drawer when pressed!) and keeping a tidy split level home with stairs everywhere. She has a full turkey dinner planned for Christmas Day, including a home-made raspberry pie.

We had a good drive. The roads were clear and traffic was much lighter than we expected, even going through Toronto. Jack slept most of the way, but the Mr. and I are feeling a bit road-worn after the 8-hour trek to get here. We’ve been making this drive for nearly 30 years, but the older I get, the longer it seems. Now, I think I’ll have one of those homemade cookies and wait for the feeling of still driving to stop.