Eric the Baby Squirrel.

You're not going to believe this.

You're just not.

But I swear on my life, it's true.





I saw it with my own eyes and even got photographic documentation.

They rescued a squirrel.

A few things you should know:

4. There is a small group of about twenty guys here at camp that are getting the grounds and buildings all ready for the staff to arrive next week.

1. There are no children here yet.

6. Theses boys are ridiculous.

Basically, a group of the guys went into one of the cabins last week to clean it out and while they were in there they found a very skinny, very abandoned and very cute baby squirrel. The poor little guy came right up to them and the boys immediately took him in as one of their own. His name is Eric and they love him.

They built him a tree fort, feed him sunflower seeds and butter to fatten him up, and keep him warm.

They love him and want to keep him forever, but they know that he has to be released back into the wild and taught how to survive on his own.

They know this because they are responsible people and googled what to do with abandoned wildlife.





However, they are having a very good time carrying him around and freaking people (like me) out when they walk up to you with a baby squirrel on their shoulder. Or on their head. Or in their pocket.

The Long Weekend Thus Far.

It's a four day vacation for us and we've had a house guest for the weekend. We're watching TC's sister's dog while she and her husband are enjoying a trip to the beach.

I imagine that Dylan is completely exhausted by now, as he has been in constant motion since he arrived. It appears that his goal is to push the limits of my sanity to the max. And he's doing a good job of it too. Don't be fooled by his cuteness and laying down on the bed. It was the only time it happened, which is why I snapped the photo.

Also, TC's eleven year old jade plant has been blowing my mind every morning when I wake up, right around 9am. The sun hits it at such a perfect angle, that I just stop and stare for a moment.

After hanging simple pink hearts for Valentine's Day, I was missing the color they brought to the kitchen. So I got creative and hung some pastel eggs from sparkly twine. They were adorable and cheery and perfectly non-perfectly asymmetrical until a group of boys attacked my kitchen on Friday night. With whiskey and beers in their hands, they flicked, flung and spun each egg until all that was left was a giant knot.

Thank you for that boys, I hope you enjoyed yourselves while the rest of us behaved ourselves in the living room.

In an effort to keep these crazy animals from taking over the world, TC and I have been going straight from our pajamas to our running shoes every morning. This morning I told him that maybe when we're older we can be that happy couple that starts every morning with a walk together. He nodded, smiled and said, "Well, I kindda wanted to be that old man that just sits around and drinks whiskey and reads the paper, but I guess I can walk too."

And that my friends, is how we've survived three years of wedded bliss. Compromise.

Last night was not technically our anniversary, it's really on Wednesday, but we did get married the day before Easter so last night was kindda/sortta our anniversary. Enough so that we used it as an excuse to go out for a delicious Indian dinner. Which of course resulted in Dylan having another anxiety induced bowel explosion in my dining room. So that was a fun way to end the night....

Either way, we started our Easter with a walk to our favorite diner for breakfast. It's not exactly warm, but the sun is shining, most of the snow has turned to mud and the temperatures have been above freezing for several days, which is what we call spring here in Canada.

Jean's Diner is full of hysterical photos of old time country-western bands that are so fabulous. You couldn't design this stuff if you tried.

For the second time this weekend, I ate way too much greasy goodness, which is why...

I've been hanging out at a new-to-me gym that is smack-dab in the middle of downtown. Ironically, right next to a tobacco shop where smokers and the occasional bums tend to hang out. Either way, its a fabulous gym and I am back on the fitness wagon. The Easter bunny came to our house last night, but I am not giving into the chocolate egg temptation. No. No. No, I am not.

We happened to have our traditional Easter meal last weekend. Tonight we indulged in delicious seafood alfredo with TC's family, that is of course, after spending some quality grandpa-granddaughter time on the iPad.

How is it that iPads have seemingly replaced playing in the snow? Oh right, they haven't. Snowballs are still as much fun for my niece as they were for me. Especially when the snowballs are being thrown at yours truly.

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Newsflash: I finally mustered the courage to write the "About" page. Check it out!

She Might Be Possessed.

There's nothing better than a relaxing weekend is there?

I spent time getting caught up on the small things, TC took a quick trip to Maine yesterday, and we had a fabulous turkey feast tonight as an early Easter dinner. 

Before dinner we decided it had been too long since we had spent some time walking through the woods. Yesterday Maple found my stash of Easter candy and ate every last scrap of chocolate. The night before, Hobie dug through the trash and made a royal mess of thrown out wrappers, bags and everything else she could get her paws on.

Do you know how I can always tell which one of them is guilty?

Its the one who doesn't run and meet me at the door when I come home. Its the one who is sheepishly hiding in a corner of the house with guilt written all over their muzzle. Maple hides in the corner of the bedroom, Hobie hides in the laundry room.

Sometimes it is just one of them, like this weekend. Sometimes its both of them. But either way, its not hard to figure out the culprit.

Clearly they had some pent up energy, so off we went. 

I estimate that Maple covers roughly four times as much ground as we do. She sprints head like a wild maniac, then she comes racing back to check in with us, before taking off again to repeat the process. 

Snow flies everywhere, her ears flap in the breeze, she slides on ice and generally acts like a crazed animal who has never felt freedom in her entire existence.

Typically, Hobie hangs back with us and prefers a slower pace. But every now and then she gets a pep in her step and runs with the wild one. 

It lasts for about one minute before she's exhausted and back in line with us slow moving humans and panting like she's just run a marathon.

Meanwhile, the crazy canine just keeps frantically running laps like some untamed beast.

Look at that photo! How can my sweet dog look like such a psycho?

Anyone want a black dog? I'll FedEx her to you, free of charge.

Also, I know what you're thinking. Look at all that snow! It's the end of March. It's Spring, for heaven's sake! Yes, you are correct. Wanna know what's worse? It snowed again last night.

I don't really want to talk about it. Thankyouverymuch.

Thankful For My Pup.

Today was over before I even knew it. It was just one of those days that flies by in a blur. As I walked out of the classroom today I noticed that the calendar had changed to November.

Say what?!

I've been toying with the idea of doing a photo project this month that has to do with being thankful. November is the perfect month to really think about what I'm thankful for. I mean, I should do that all the time, and I do try, but life gets busy and sometimes I forget.

Anywhoo, this might be fun. Here's what I'm thinking: One photo, everyday, with simple text. Nothing fancy. Definitely not something that requires a degree in graphic art. Heck, I don't even need a brand new photo everyday. I'm willing to repurpose old photos that I like. It might be fun, no? Have you played around with pixlr.com? They make it super easy to add text to any photo you've got.

So we'll start today with being thankful for my pup - The best and worst dog in the whole world. She's talented like that.

I can always count on her to lay near me and keep me company. She's always around to clean up my mess too. Just yesterday I dropped a whole container of cherry tomatoes as I was rushing out the door for work and she graciously cleaned all of them up for me. I didn't even have to ask. She's soft and sweet and the best misbehaved dog I know.

Are you doing anything special for the most thankful month of the year? 

A Walk in the Woods.

We needed some fresh air this past weekend. The last few weeks have been unusually busy for me and TC. Plus, I can tell Maple has been bored of us because of her nightly whine sessions.

So on Saturday we decided to head a little ways out side of town to Crooked Creek. I've been to the overlook before by never really exploring in the woods.

We met up with our good friend Serge and his two dogs. You may remember the big white polar bear from the day we picked him up and saw a moose on the way home. That was nine months and seventy pounds ago. 

So, you've got Thor on the left, then Odin, Maple and Hobie is on the right. We loaded all four of them into Serge's truck to head a little deeper into the woods.

Along our way down the dirt road Thor decided that he didn't want to be in the truck anymore. So he jump/tumbled out, while we were driving, and started trotting down the road. He turned into a rock quarry and proceeded straight down a giant rock hill to the river all the while completely ignoring our calls. It looked like we were going to be going home without the polar bear for a while but Serge finally caught him after a thirty minute chase.

Anyway, we eventually came to a small river where I assumed we would park the truck and start hiking. But then Serge just drove right through it like it was totally normal.

I mean, I'm from the South, but these guys kindda had me feelin' like a country redneck.

Fortunately, we finally made landfall safely on the other side of the river. The woods were gorgeous and we wandered down a nice solid path for a bit.

I hung in the back to take photos and tried to be all creative and artsy. Why, I don't know. The woods were speaking to me, I guess and I'm trying to increase my collection of useless weird photos.

We were following a river but with all the rain, there were tons of flooded areas that we had to traverse.

TC likes to do things the hard way (he calls it the fun way) while I prefer to head up stream a bit and find a nice set of rocks to hop across. Less chance of breaking my neck or getting my camera wet.

Eventually, we reached the notorious waterfall, jumping rocks and swimming hole. Apparently this place is a hot spot during the summer. As a former lifeguard I think it is safe to say that this would be my idea of swimming hole hell. Although, I'm sure a few beers would probably solve that problem.

Of course, waterfalls, swimming in creeks, and running through the woods isn't enough fun for Maple. No, she needs to carry around every stick and branch she can get her teeth on and then hit you in the ass while she runs in circles. It's fun for everyone!

And then she wants to take her stick swimming - in the river we have to drive through! That's how deep it was. Deep enough for a lab to swim in is apparently the exact depth a truck can swim in as well.

And you know what she does as soon as she gets out of the water, don't you? She runs over and stands right next to you and shakes. Twice.

She's lucky I didn't leave her in the woods.

The Cottage.

Where I come from in the South, if you have a place on the ocean or on the lake it is called a beach house or a lake house, or maybe the condo. 

Here in the Maritimes it is simply called a cottage. Big, small, old, new, on the beach or just near the beach - all called cottages. We only live about twenty minutes from the beach so pretty much everyone that I know has a cottage in their family. It's like every family in town went out and bought a cottage in the 70's and have had it ever since. 

TC's bestie, John, has a family cottage too. When his parents bought it in '78 it was a four room motel. It isn't a motel anymore though, now it's just a regular two bedroom cottage with a funky little bunk house in the yard that sleeps another six people.

I've never been out to anyone's cottage before so I was pretty excited last weekend when we headed out there to celebrate the day of John's birth. 

As TC and I pulled in Kevin was just getting back from a quick dip.

These damn Canadians are crazy. It wasn't more than 60 degrees and the water couldn't have been any warmer than 50 degrees. Crazy, I tell you. I don't go near the ocean and all of it's leg-less animals unless it is at least 95 degrees.

Not that the dogs cared. 

We all went down to the beach in attempt to rid Maple of some energy.

It didn't work. She just doesn't quit. Ever.

It's a small beach and not exactly the white sandy shores of the Gulf that I'm used to, but the sunset was gorgeous and my wine was delicious just the same.

When we got back the boys set about opening up the cottage as it was the first time anyone had been there for the season. They turned on the water, took down the boarded up windows and put the patio furniture outside. 

Then Kevin got stuck with the super nasty job of getting the dead crow out of the fire place. GROSS. 

I better not come down with Avian Flu.

Once the crow was laid to rest we barbecued steaks (not that there was BBQ involved, they just don't have the word grill in their vocabulary) and busted out more birthday beverages.

And, of course, the boys demolished the birthday cake in about .02 seconds. A new record, I think.

We spent the rest of the night enjoying the fire and chatting about everything and nothing all at the same time.

Everyone tells stories all the time about the fun they have at each other's cottages in the summer. TC and I are never around in the summer since we're off at camp in Maine, so it was nice to finally be part of a cottage story.

Oh, can you see the little A-frame building on the left? That is the bunk house. It was my favorite part.

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Workout: nothing. again. it's been two weeks. the good news is that my new antibiotics are working their magic and i almost feel human again. we'll try again for the gym tomorrow.

Wild Animals.

The other night our friend Serge invited TC and I to go with him to pick up the newest member of his family.

It was an hour and a half drive to Miramichi (meer-a-ma-she), the town that lies right on the other side of that bridge.

Under the bridge is a river that is home to, what is apparently, the best salmon fishing in the world. Serge said the Bush's have been known to come to Miramichi for the fishing. Then The Canadian asked if the trees and shrubs come fishing too. 

Seriously, I think he missed his true calling as a professional comedian.

Meet Serge's new puppy!

It was love at first sight for these two.

He's like a polar bear pup. 

Don't you think Snowball is the perfect name?

I thought of it all by myself.

Fine. His name isn't Snowball. Nor is it Fluffy. Or White Rabbit (which I lobbied hard for). 

It's Thor! 

He's tough like that.

Oh, and he's not really a polar bear. He's a Great Pyrenees.

Thor may be a measly 12 pounds right now, but just you wait, he'll be 130 in no time.

On our way back Thor was sitting in my lap and started whimpering. I thought it was because he missed his mom but then I felt something warm and wet on my leg. Turned out Thor just needed a quick bathroom break.

As Thor took care of his business, I looked down the road and thought to myself, "Man, we're really out in the boonies." 

Just to prove to you how far out in the boonies we were, about five miles down the road we saw a MOOSE! Right there on the side of the road. 

I about had a heart attack.

We stopped. I took a photo. Freaked out some more. We kept driving.

Side note: See how the moose is half white and half brown? TC says moose turn white in the winter and now that it's spring they're getting their brown back. I don't believe him. Can anyone confirm this?

Not another mile down the road we saw two more moose! 

It was a mom and baby. They were standing on the side of the road and then scampered into the woods when we stopped the truck. 

We waited for a minute and then they both bolted across the road, right in the middle of a blind turn as another car was coming. 

Serge laid on his horn and fortunately the oncoming car stopped in plenty of time.

Funny story. Do you know what a baby moose is called? 

I tell all the kids at camp in Maine that a baby moose is called a moosling. Like a baby duck is a duckling. 

That's a lie. A baby moose is a calf. 

But I think moosling is much cuter. And the kids totally believe me.

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Wednesday Workout: nothing. rest day.

Thursday Workout: Cardio - 6 mile run, per training plan for yesterday. screw my unconfirmed stess fracture/tendinitis. i don't mind a little run with a small hammer banging on my leg.