Creampuff Revolution

Creampuff and Dog Were Fans

Like all good Canadians, I am a huge Spirit of the West fan. Save This House was the soundtrack of my youth. Home For a Rest was (and still is) the song that got everyone out on the dance floor at a family wedding. So when news of John Mann's passing hit my feed yesterday, I was very very sad. 

Since moving to Vancouver, I got to meet John Mann a handful of times; he played M. Thénardier in a local production of Les Miz and I got to fangrrrrl at him at the opening night party (he could not have been more gracious) and I was in a writing group with his fantastic wife Jill, so I saw them together at various events a few years after his diagnosis. But my favourite memory of him is this:

Back in 2013, Katr and I and our cantankerous pooch Emmy Lou went to Galliano Island for a small conference and John Mann was the featured performer. He gave a wonderful, intimate performance and it was a magical night. The next morning, I was waiting for Katr in the hotel lobby with our cranky-ass dog and John Mann walked in. He was immediately taken with Emmy Lou and started rubbing her wrinkled head. 

And she LET HIM.

Emmy Lou didn't really enjoy being touched. She ruined a lot of people's days by avoiding their attempts to pet her and barely tolerated physical affection from us, the people who fed and housed her.

But she was INTO John Mann. Like, looking lovingly into his eyes, trying to get her junkyard face close to his, her tail wagging gently. I could not believe it. But then again, I COULD believe it, because John Mann had this great energy and Emmy Lou was in thrall, like the rest of us.

This dog petting went on for several minutes and it was fucking adorable. 

I'm sorry I didn't get a photo of the moment but also not sorry, because sometimes you just need to remember things. But after it was over, I gave Emmy Lou an extra big treat for not embarrassing me in front of John Mann.

Rest in peace to the great John Mann. Katr and I loved you, Canada loved you and our crusty shar pei Emmy Lou loved you too. If you see her up there, please give her a rubbins from us.

Creampuff Missed Yesterday but Today is for Shar Pei

Effie has really seen some shit this year; waaaay back in January, Effie was out for a pre-dawn walk with Drtr. Some dipshit opened her front gate and her off-leash dog ran down the sidewalk, bit a huge hole in Effie's side and then ran back to his owner.

Effie didn't even have time to react and she seemed unfazed - plus, it was dark - so it wasn't until Drtr got home and we saw the dog in the light that the big bleeding rip in her side become evident. I nearly barfed and fainted simultaneously.

I will spare you the gory photos of the dog's open wounds but here is the aftermath a couple of weeks into healing:

Thank fuck for pot brownies.

Fortunately, Drtr had seen where the dog owner lived. So, after we spent all ding dong day at the vet (partly because Effie WOULD NOT succumb to the sedation and spent nearly two hours determinedly lurching around in an exam room after several injections), Krtr and I were able to write an strongly worded letter to the dog owner. We told the owner that  the vet suggested we report the incident to the cops, because the injury was so serious. We also enclosed photos of the Effie's injuries. And the $1000 vet bill.

Furious and spoiling for a fight, we braced ourselves for a response from the dog owner. I spent several hours having angry hypothetical conversations with this woman. What was she THINKING? What is WRONG with her DOG? SHE WOULD PAY THEY WOULD BOTH PAY.

In the end, our righteous anger was diffused by the fact that the dog owner contacted us right away. She apologized profusely for being so careless and said she just hadn't been thinking when she let her dog out. She explained that her dog had become more protective of the house since they had a baby. She agreed, sans fuss, the pay the entire vet bill... and then she DID.

I almost felt bad for calling the police on her. Then I looked at our heavily sedated puppy, with the drainage tube sticking out of her side, and ceased to "almost feel bad". Because my poor sweet little dog was FUCKED UP. 

I've never had dealings with Vancouver Animal Control, except when they refused to control various animals in our neighbourhood because apparently they don't wrangle skunks or crows here.

This dog thing was different. We filled out a report online and within the day, we had a call from Animal Control and an appointment with an Animal Control officer. She came over to interview Drtr and check out Effie's injuries and give her some lovin'. Then she went over to the dog owner's house, interviewed them and issued them a $250 ticket for having their dog off-leash on the sidewalk. Justice was swift and very satisfying. Thanks, City of Vancouver!

We had several more trips to the vet for drainage tube removal and stitches removal and Effie had to wear a raincoat for weeks, rain or shine, while her fur grew back. Good thing she's adorable in pink.

When we told folks Effie had been injured, they assumed she'd gotten into a scrap at the park instead of being attacked on the street for no reason - and that was a fair assumption. Effie a very rough and tumble gal. After almost every visit to the off-leash park, she comes home with some kind of minor injury, either from enthusiastic play or trying to initiate play too enthusiastically and being brutally rebuffed.

Effie never holds a grudge. But I was still nervous that, after several weeks of healing and not having any time off-leash, Effie might be nervous and weird about gambolling about with other canines. I wanted her to be more cautious so that she didn't get bit on the fuckin' face so often but I didn't want her to lose her joie de vivre.

Fortunately, I got exactly what I wanted. Once she was ready to be set loose again, Effie had matured a little bit in the off-leash department and it's been a delight. She's a little more cautious now about approaching other dogs at a sprint; and, if she gets the "no thank you", she's become very good at just moving on, which makes our park visits a lot less stressful for moi.

Good girl.

Creampuff Not a Pedorthist's Dream

It has not been a banner year for Creampuff's general physical well-being. And it all started in May. Inspired by the beautiful spring weather, I decided I would try to improve my general health by walking more.

I was walking Effie for about an hour, four or five days a week (don't freak out - Drtr, or one of her TWO SETS OF DOG WALKERS were walking her when I was not). I decided that I would try to work my way up to walking her 5km every time we went out and after a few weeks, we hit that goal and I was very proud of myself and felt great.

There was only one problem - my right foot hurt.

I've had plantar fasciitis on and off for years but it hadn't bothered me for ages and I'd somehow misplaced my old orthotics AND the boots they were in back in 2015. I tried stretching and did all the exercises they tell you to do and made sure I was wearing good shoes and occasionally took an ibuprofen, but I continued to walk and it continued to get worse, to the point where, every time I stood up, I would LURCH forward, like Frankenstein's monster, limping like an idiot and hanging on to furniture for dear life, until my foot warmed up enough for me to walk more normally.

After a few weeks of this, my left knee, tired of being lurched on to every time I tried to get up, said "FUCK YOU, FATTY" and also went out. So that put an end to my excellent 5km walks and also enabled me to shuffle sadly about for most of the summer. It was funny, because I had increased my endurance so much that I didn't get tired from walking but I could only do it real, real slow. 

I slowly healed, reduced my dog walking time and went and got a prescription for orthotics. And then my stomach said "FUCK YOU, FATTY" and I couldn't do much walking for almost a month because I would get dizzy from not eating. But you know what also happens when you're not eating? Your body starts to eat itself! Sure it fuckers up your metabolism, but it did lead to less pressure on my foot and I started to get excited about walking again. I just got back up to 5km per walk this week! But now my foot is hurting again.

So yesterday, I FINALLY got it together to go in for an orthotics appointment.

The last time I got orthotics, I put my feet in a box of foam at the chiropractor's and then, two weeks later, the orthotics arrived. THIS time, I had an hour long appointment with a professional pedorthist whose name rhymed with "Belson". 

Belson was so nice that I ended up not making a joke about how the first four letters in "pedorthist" are "pedo". He spent a lot of time looking at my feet on the floor, testing their range of motion on the exam table and repeatedly had to tell me to relax my feet, which was hard, because a) I don't like having my feet touched and b) I'm used to stretching my feet when they're touched, because that's what our yoga teachers always want us to do. 

"This big toe isn't as flexible as the left one," he noted.

"Oh yeah," I said, a memory surfacing like a magical porpoise, "I BROKE that toe doing a punch front off a springboard in 7th grade!"

Belson made a note.

"And there's a sort of bump here on the right side of the right foot."

"Holy shit," I said, as a memory narwhal joined the porpoise, "I BROKE that foot falling off a curb when I was 12! Man, you're like a palm reader. But for feet! A SOLE reader!"

Belson, to his credit, gave me an LOL.

After the foot exam, he wanted to watch me walk (because come on, who wouldn't?), so I paraded around the office as Belson analyzed my gait.

The results were not good.

"Well," he said, "I'm kind of surprised that it's your right foot that's hurting, because it's your left side that's really messed up. Your knees are a little hyperextended and then your heel...well, it's like every step, your heel slides out like - "

He did a move that looked like this: 

 I could NOT stop laughing. 

Belson 3D imaged my feet (THE FUTURE IS NOW) and I'm going to pick my orthotics in a couple of weeks. I am VERY excited at the prospect of being able to walk pain-free.

The dog is going to be EXHAUSTED.

 

Creampuff Not Sure Where to Start

 So, I feel like this is probably the most important thing that's happened since last we chatted, which is that my aunt Jemi passed away last month. It was ovarian cancer (round 2) and she was only 63, so it totally fucking sucked.

This great picture is from our wedding, where Jemi was gamely participating in our group "first dance".

Jemi was married to my mom's sister, Suki and they were the lesbians you aspire to be, with their top-level hostessing skillz, insane gardening prowess and heart-meltingly adorable lurve. They were totally #RelationshipGoals, is what I'm saying.

Jemi was not interested in a traditional memorial service, so instead, her and Suki's friends organized a pub night to sing, and share stories, and eat, and drink, and laugh, and quietly weep before doing more drinking. Jemi was universally adored and they had a TON of friends in Victoria where they live and all of my hilarious aunts and my hilarious immediate family were there, so it was the PERFECT night. Jemi, you would have LOVED it.

Side note: if you're wondering where the lesbians are, the answer is Victoria. When Suki and Jemi moved there, their lesbian postal carrier was like "LESBIANS!" and introduced them to all of the other lesbians in town and many of them were in attendance that night to celebrate Jemi. I was so jealous, as our postal carrier Dave has NEVER introduced us to other lesbians. Fucking Dave. Anyway, the point is that we've located the lesbians and they're comfortingly nearby.

That night I got to share a short little story about Jemi, from the first time I'd had the pleasure of being hosted by her and Suki, back in 2011, when they lived in Calgary. This...is that story. DUN DUN.

So I was in Calgary for a week-long playwright workshop at Lunchbox Theatre. Prior to this visit, my only experiences with Jemi were at family events, where we all sat around and drank and killed ourselves laughing, so this was the first time I'd experienced the full force of Suki and Jemi's sumptuous hospitality and, as I described at the time, it was prodigious.  

The first morning of my stay, Suki had to leave for work, but Jemi had just retired a few months before. So she kept me company over a delicious breakfast (of course she'd been up since the crack of dawn's ass, taking care of some neighbour's diabetic cat). We had a lovely visit but it was a beautiful June day and she was clearly itching to get out in the garden, so as soon as I made a noise about tackling my script, she was out the door.

I sat at their dining room table, facing out on the back yard, procrastinating and drinking tea, wondering if it was too early for the scotch they'd set out in my "writing room". Out of the corner of my eye, something flashed in front of the window. A few seconds later, another flash. I looked up properly and saw Jemi running past, kind of like this, but without the snow. And the tail.

 "OH SHIT," I thought, as I leapt fatly to my feet and beetled over to the window, "Jemi's on fire! Or the shed is on fire! Or a neighbour has collapsed in the alley and she's running for help!"

I got my phone out, dialled 9-1, then took a moment to check in on Jemi again. She ran to the back garden bed. Then to the covered garden bed. Then back to the shed. Then back to the first garden bed.

And as I watched for a few more seconds, it dawned on me: She's not on fire. This is the just the SPEED at which THIS WOMAN MOVES.

She was like a cheetah, you guys. A GARDEN CHEETAH. And her hustling around the garden inspired me to get my ass in gear and get writing that day - and for the rest of the week.

I did have some early morning scotch.

Anyway - Jemi was the best kind of human and it feels so fucking unfair that we didn't get many more years with her. She will be sorely missed. 

In closing, Jemi was an ardent animal lover - my brother Jaro and his partner Trsm sneaked their large golden doodle, Jasper, into the hospital in a duffle bag to visit her during her last week, which she loved - and this video would have delighted her. Enjoy!

Here comes the fish cuddle! #Caturday #CatsOfTwitter #ThursdayThoughts https://t.co/sox0PrThQa pic.twitter.com/sF3LFse60n

— LOLBOOK (@LOLBOOKcom) November 2, 2017

Creampuff's Village Hit by Highly Localized Plague

As all 2 of my devoted NaBloPoMo readers may recall, about 10 days ago, I was feeling under the weather. I had had a really bad sore throat for a few days and lots of aches and pains. I put the cat ears on. I neti-potted and gargled and Emergen-C'd and Cold FX'd and I somehow managed to not get FULLY sick!

Until yesterday.

I woke up allll set to have dim sum with an old friend and then set up my village and instead, I had to cancel all my plans and sit on the couch feeling SUPER sorry for myself instead.

But I did still get my annual village expansion permit!! And here is the new building that's going in! Isn't it handsome? It's about time we got some coach builders in town, everyone was just walking around like idiots!

And that's not the only addition to Rosewood Cross this year. For my birthday back in March, my friend Chezza sent me this gem:

I love a touch of the occult. The simple country folks of Wintersea won't know what to do with themselves. 

 

Creampuff Can See the Floor

Last week, when I cleaned off my desk, I felt so damn pleased with myself that I decided that this weekend, I would tackle our mechanical room/storage room. As the person in charge of the horror that is the mechanical room, it was very empowering to finally Kon Mari the hell out of it, with the kind assistance of Drtr (loading the car, driving me to the recycle centre, taking things surreptitiously to the dumpster across the street under cover of darkness) and Katr (empty box breakdown, random "what's in this old bin?" sorting, key decision making on keep/toss items, all-important "where should we take all this?" research).

Cleaning out the mechanical room has three major benefits:

1. We can finally get to the water heaters at the back of the room where Kong, the magical man who comes every year to flush out our radiant heating system, left his phone number. 
   
   
2. With Shoebox Project for Shelters stuff piling up, it's nice to have a little more room to stash things.
   
   
3. A lot of my Dickens Village stuff is in there (oh, and all of our Christmas decorations but whatever IT'S VILLAGE TIME, MOTHERFUCKERS!)

Like an idiot, I failed to take a "before" photograph, but rest assured it was embarrassing and looked something like this:

 I did manage to take an action shot of the dog, wondering WTF all this crap was doing in the the hallway:

And then, when I was finished, YOU COULD SEE THE FLOOR!!!

Pretty magical.

The most magical thing about this whole process was that Katr discovered just how close the recycling centre is to us! We've been driving way the hell out to recycle all our boxes, not knowing that an even better recycle centre exists a mere 5 minute drive away. They take EVERYTHING we've been "meaning to get rid of" - vacuum cleaners! Lightbulbs! Electronics! Plus the guy there was very helpful. Recycling rules!!

Now that the mechanical room is clean, it's time to start my favourite holiday tradition - THE VILLAGE! I have it on good authority that Rosewood Cross's Development Office has a new addition to the village this year, so get ready.

 

Creampuff's Got the Cat Ears on Today

I'm pretty sure I've blogged about this already but I can't find it.

At our house, when you are sick, you have one day to be full on pathetic. Whiny, feeling sorry for yourself, being made tea and soup by the unsick, getting to chose what to watch on TV, quiet self-pity weeping, the whole nine yards. Lean into it. You are loved.

If feeling sick lasts LONGER than one day, however, the unsick spouse may require inducements to continue treating the sick with the same level of love and patience.

Enter the cat ears. Here is Emmy, modelling them.

We got these cat ears for a Hallowe'en party back in Toronto more than 10 years ago and somehow they made it all the way to Vancouver with us. And when one of us feels really shitty, we put the cat ears on and the extra cuteness of the cat ears generally delivers at least one more full day of indulgence and sympathy. It's a great system and has avoided years of hurt sick person feelings and flashes of well person irritation. All couples should try this method.

All this to say that the cold I've been fighting off for a couple of weeks seems to be winning and I needed a pathetic day. But since we're all so choked about the election still, I knew that the chances of getting my full day of sympathy was pretty slim. So today, I am full on wearing the cat ears. And I'm pretty sure that the end result is that I look like this:

SNUGGLE ME.

Tiny Babies in Knitted Hats are Comforting

Like some of you, me and my current 2/3 American-born household were fervently and optimistically hoping for a different outcome in yesterday's election.

As shit started to get super real last night, we all decided to go to bed before the final tallying was done, in the hopes that somehow there would be a miracle in the night.

Woke up to the official news about President Elect Trump on the radio this morning and I thought "I'm pretty sure this is how The Handmaid's Tale starts."

HAHAHAHAHAHA shitballs.

Fortunately, we had our emotional support shar pei nearby through the night. She was pretty jazzed to get up on the big bed. 

And while we will probably spend today crying over Hillary's concession speech and eating our feelings, one must remember that life goes on and people are good and there are adorable babies. Why, here's one now! He's sleeping off the election.

I knitted this hat for the sweet bebe of some lovely nearby friends who have TOTALLY BETRAYED US by announcing recently that they are moving back to New York in January. WHAT?? COME ON!! This note from tiny Hath Chevan's mom did, however, soften the blow:

Roro!  Thank you for your knitted hat!  It looks really good on Hath, I love it.  He must like it too because he cries when we try to put other hats on him but he doesn't with yours :)  

Hahahahahahahaha, well played, Cach. WELL PLAYED. If you decide to stay put in Vancouver, that'd be cool too, just sayin'.

My lovely friend Wenders and her wife welcomed a tiny bebe last winter, for whom I also knit a tiny hat and I'm JUST NOW getting around to posting a picture. This kid starts college in the fall.

I've never met Wenders in person but she's a long time internet friend and she lives in America. She was out canvassing  yesterday, trying to get out the vote for Hillary - but she also posted this on her FB page, which I loved:

Because she is delightful, Wenders is working on a project to collect 1 million stories about small acts of kindness. You can share your own stories on Twitter or Instagram by using the tag #microkindness and definitely follow the MicroKindness project on Instagram and Twitter Because couldn't we all use a little more booze kindness today and going forward? INDEED.

Creampuffs Say Goodbye to The Princess

Any of you who've been to our house in the last six months will not be shocked by the news that our sweet, suspicious senior shar pei Emmy Lou, frustrator of dog walkers, fuzzy muse of artistes, wearer of robot pyjamas, has left her fatties and gone on to that great dog park in the sky.

We've been doing the ugly cry for a couple of days. But hers was a very very kind and peaceful end and we should all be so lucky to be so loved. And so full of bacon.

Emmy was quite a character and we had a lot of adventures, proof of which you'll find in my La Pooch archives, particularly between 2007 and 2012, when she still went for walks and challenged geese.

Obviously, we have hundreds of photos of Emmy but this is how I will always remember her - plush, happy and just like The Flash.

Creampuffs Get Dirty

Last night in the kitchen, I burst into tears because the cauliflower I was preparing for our evening meal was "insanely buggy".

(In my defense, this effing cauliflower WAS riddled with tiny bugs but by the time I was ready to give up on it, I'd already assiduously de-bugged two thirds of it and it felt dumb not to soldier on.)

Still, I don't think I was really crying about the cauliflower. I also burst into tears when, after a power outage on Monday, I couldn't figure out how to reprogram the goddamn clock on the effing microwave. (Also in my defense, neither could Katr.)

Between my own family sadness and all the other crazy shit going on in the world, it's been a pretty heavy week and a half all 'round. So while I may not be capable of Katr's eloquence, as demonstrated by her excellent post this week "Increasing our capacity for compassion", I thought I would try to focus this week's post on something equally life-affirming and, perhaps a little dirty.

Aw yeah, that's right - motherfuckin' GARDENING.

This year our upstairs neighbours and all around manly men Jaco and Jeea built each of the units in our triplex a huge planter box on the boulevard, so that we could take advantage of the sun there and grow some motherfuckin' lavender. 

There are three of these babies on our boulevard now and people are impressed. They stop to look at the boxes. They check out all the plants. They ask us how the boxes got there and where the dirt came from.

It's been fun talking to neighbours who I've seen over the past three years but have never actually conversed with. I also hope that now that they know who lives here and that we are nice people who don't like to step in dog shit, they'll quit letting their dogs shit on our lawn.

Here's the dirty part:

There was a lot of dirt. Jaco ordered extra so that we would be able to fill the boxes, but then there was a LOT left over. Katr and I wiled away a sunny afternoon slowly moving this dirt, one bucket at a time, to various dirt-free areas on our collective property. Newsflash - dirt is heavy! You're welcome.

We decided to use our box mainly for herbs and poppies and a few below-ground items (radishes, scallions). My reasoning was that if someone wants to help themselves to a handful of herbs as they wander by, I'm fine with that - but if they take my tomatoes, it's a swift kick to the nutsack. Best to keep the tomatoes in the yard.

Here's our planter - cilantro, marjoram, thyme, rosemary, lavender, chives, garlic chives, scallions, radishes, poppies, one random geranium.

Syvo's planter is a lovely mix of lettuces and flowers, with an aspiring peony in the middle.

Kico and Jaco's planter is like the Versailles of planters - pansies, tulips, ferns and lettuces.

A few weeks and a lot of rain later, things are sprouting! Radishes!

Poppies!

Katr also got the peas going in our yard and they're sprouting too. Peas!

The kale is sprouting too, because we're Vancouver douchebags now and must grow kale. But that doesn't mean I have to photograph it. 

That's all the gardening news - FOR NOW. I know you'll all be DESPERATE to know when we get the beans and tomatoes in the ground!!!!111!!! so I'll keep you posted.

In the meantime, when shit gets real, it's nice to be able to look out my office window and see these:

Pretty.