Everything except birds

Twin Grins

This is a run-down of the weekend, but I've begun with a picture of Kevin and Hudson that I took a couple of months ago.  Kevin is the dorm supervisor at my school, and Hudson is the resident dog.  Any school that has a resident dog is cool, in my book.  I'm sorry I didn't manage better focus, but don't you love their twin grins?

The weekend was busy.  Friday night, we ate at Greens and Gourmet, before attending an amazing concert by Bill's niece's husband, who is a professional violinist.  It is always a joy to watch Paul perform.  One day, I'll try to get some pictures.

Saturday was an errand-doing day, but concluded with a meal at The Foundation, and then a lecture at UBC by the brilliant Steven Pinker - very interesting, and funny too.  It was about the language of emotion, so would not be printable on this blog.  With a little search, you can find pretty much the identical lecture on u-tube, though, if you're interested.    

On Sunday morning, Black Jack and I played ball.

She's very keen on getting the ball.

But her idea of big air is quite limited.

Around noon, I left home on my bike to go to the gym at Howe and Davie.  There's a killer ab class at 1:10 taught lately by a young girl who really yells a lot, but it does seem to keep us all working really hard. I have to admit it's never boring.  Afterwards, I biked back over the Burrard Bridge, and Bill brought Black Jack to the Wicked Cafe, where we sat outside and enjoyed an absolutely divine latte.  (Has anyone noticed how many B's there seem to be in my life?  Check out that last sentence.)

 The view over the Burrard Bridge was amazing.

In the afternoon, Black Jack and I went for a walk:

First, we met a squirrel.  That set things off on a very exciting note.

We also met a dog named Tigger, who had a ton of personality.

This photo does not do him justice.  He's much cuter.

We saw yellow & orange flowers

We saw pink flowers with bees

And we saw a cat, wa-a-ay down at the end of the lane.

Just before we went in the house, we did a study in shadows:

Black Jack's

And mine

Sunday evening, we had a colorful and delicious meal at Greens and Gourmet again - it's another of my favorite places.  Veggie food, reasonably priced, and very thoughtful employees.   

 Who's the third person?  Mali.  Here she is, parking her bike. 

She's a colleague and a good friend.  I love it that she thinks nothing of wearing a long dress as she rides her bike.  She's looking for her key, (not for change to park her bike), and she's trying to tell me to stop snapping pictures.  She has just returned from a teaching gig in Kenya.  Because of her, a connection is becoming stronger between the international students at my school in North Van, and three small schools in Kenya.  Last night, after our meal, we went to a "Mindfulness in Education" lecture by Arthur Zajonc (His name sounds like "science", but with a Z at the beginning).  Huge!  Honestly, just huge!  The panel discussion afterwards with Kimberly A. Schonert-Reichl (UBC) & Heesoon Bai (SFU) was as thought provoking as the lecture.  If you ever get the chance to take any sort of course with any of these people, run to the sign-up counter, don't walk.

This morning?  Late again, and pushing these legs harder than they really want to go.  Made it just on time. 

The ride home today?  Spectacular!!  

From the Lions Gate Bridge

From Beach Avenue

ADD-ON TUESDAY MORNING - I'm worried.

This morning, Black Jack woke up at 5:00, in her "Wild-eyed Orangutan" state, as Bill likes to describe it.  I usually get up about then, so I took her out.  She did a poo and then raced inside, as she often does, tearing about the house at the speed of lightening.  I was in the kitchen, when I heard a heartbreaking, very high-pitched whimper that still leaves my stomach in knots.  By the time I reached her, she was sitting quietly, and it seemed when I stood her up, that her right hind leg was in a weird position.  Minutes, later, she's walking, I think stiffly, but I can't actually pinpoint what she has injured.  When I brought her for her first vet check after adopting her, the vet said she had luxated patella in both back knees, but so far, aside from the odd hop on three legs, there has been no indication of pain, and she has seemed just fine.  Now, I'm worried, but no more whimpers after that initial one.

  

Wish us luck!  One more pic from her ball game on Sunday to cheer me up.   

Two little seagulls, sitting on a rock

I tried to add a couple of lines to my nursery rhyme title, but didn't come up with anything publishable.  Maybe someone out there can help me.  I felt a bit depressed yesterday morning, as the reality of rainy-day commuting hit me.  Then I found myself noticing how much nature seems to enjoy the wet weather.  On the way home from work, as I went over the Lions Gate Bridge, I looked way down and saw two white specs on a rock.  With my 18-zoom, it amazed me that I captured a reasonable representation of these seagulls.  I watched them for quite some time, and took several photos.  Although they have turned their backs on each other in this photo, my feeling is that they were quite content in each other's company, with the soft mist falling over them.

My next stop was on the way up Cyprus Street.  Any cyclists familiar with this route will tell you that the steepest part of the hill is from 5th to 6th Avenue.  Right at 6th is this wonderful Community Garden.  Thank you to the people who maintain it.  It brightened my day a lot, yesterday.

I've always loved all shades of blue, and this hydrant looked really fine next to the mauve plants around it. 
These flowers, with their glistening droplets of water, were loving the rain.
Bill must have guessed the color theme for the day, because the dessert he prepared fit perfectly.  Another great end to a good day.  Rain, rain, you don't have to go away after all.
This morning, it was raining harder.  I had to wear my booties and rain pants.  I was also late, so no time to stop on the way to work.  About half way there, the rain stopped, and I was way too warm for the latter part of my ride.  Better than too cold though.  And I reminded myself that rain is a heck of a lot easier to deal with than ice.

On the way home, I stopped again on the bridge.  It's beginning to be a habit.  I looked over to Stanley Park, and took this (sort of) impressionist image.  I felt a little Debussy running through the mist.  It also reminded me just a tiny bit of some of Emily Carr's paintings.  If you haven't read her "Hundreds and Thousands" journals, you might enjoy the beautiful beast stories, as well as the insights into her heart and mind. 
Then, I looked wa-a-ay down, and saw this dog fetching sticks thrown obligingly by its human.  Seemed to be no problem with the rain for either of them.  
I looked over to the other side of the bridge and the mist was magical. Rain, you're okay.  I can live with you for another season.  I might even find myself looking forward to your charms.
Home to a new salad look.  Bill is finding his own way to brighten the day.  Sun isn't so far off, after all.

Dora the Explorer meets Pugs

Time to buy Black Jack's food

I buy Merrick canned food for Black Jack, and alternate between four flavors: venison, buffalo, salmon/venison, and chicken (senior, even though she's not a senior yet.) It's a bit of a struggle, as the store that seems to work best for me is in North Van. (This is the only food shopping I do, but more on that later.)  That means loading the cans (12 at a time) into my panniers and carrying them over two bridges and a couple of hills. The biggest struggle, though, is wondering if she's getting the best nutrition possible. Raw food is very much encouraged at this store, but Scott ate raw for six years, and his demise came, not with joint problems, nor with a disease like Cancer, but instead, with degenerative myopathy. He carried on for three years after being diagnosed, never in pain, and happy to his last day, but slowly losing his motor functions. I took him off raw, because at 13, he suddenly refused to eat it any more. I put him on a so-called inferior diet, GD senior Hills diet, ordered from the vet.  That vet wanted to sell me the Canadian version of GD, but a few tries proved that this also did not agree with Scott.  I had had amazing success using GD with Kim, my BC/Shepherd before Scott.  I started her on it at age 12, and all of her hot spots disappeared, and she went on to live an amazingly healthy life until age 18.  That was all I had to go on, but, as with Kim, the GD seemed to give Scott new life.  His myopathy didn't go away, but his pancreatitis went into remission as long as he was fed small meals every four hours, and his appetite returned big time.  Anyhow, all this to say I still feel guilty not feeding raw, but just can't bring myself to do it.  (Any comments welcome.)

And now, I really must apologize for the quality of these pictures.  My only excuse was lack of time, great excitement, and poor attention/focus.  Still, they do tell the story, so I guess I have to be satisfied with that for now.

The first sight I saw as I entered the store

There's something about seeing a grown man cuddling a tiny little puppy that just warms my heart.  My bike was parked right at the door, and this kind gentleman agreed to wait while I ran for my camera.

And then he put the puppy down.

Just beginning to get his legs under him, but ready to explore.

Then, I saw...

How many were there?  Do you know, I never got them all in one picture.  There were always at least two others running around the store.  I know there were two pups, but as for adults, I'm still not sure.

Then, the two pups found my feet.

I'm not proud of these big feet, but the size comparison was too much to pass up.

This little guy meant business.

All I could do was giggle and snap photos.  The lady with the pugs was still busy collecting her goods and paying the bill, so I had free license to take a lot of pics.

Then, Dora the Explorer arrived.

The Pugs sounded the alarm.  Dora looked a bit concerned.

The rucas was deafening.  It was seconds from closing time.  The clerks kept smiling.  I kept snapping.  There is seriously nothing in this for me, but I have to insert a comment that the people at this store are knowledgeable, patient and always have time for your questions.

Dora's human bit the bullet and entered the store.

The pugs immediately went into "meet and greet" mode.  Dora was cautious, but so-o-o well behaved.  

Ah, a stuffy toy, just like the ones at home.

Uh, no, Dora.  No chewing on this one, please.

The pups were on to more exciting things.  

Pet stores are just about the greatest place to be.  Pretty well every dog I've ever known, will agree.  (I can think of only two exceptions, but their story is for another day.)

Time for the ride home.

All the dogs followed their person to the car, leashless, except for the two babes, who were carried.  One of the adults still had to do its business, and this one, in the car, wanted everyone assembled together.  The expression on its face was priceless. I tried to get my reflection out of the pic, but no luck.  Finally, lady and pugs drove off into the sunset.  

Yes!  Some attention for me!  I've been a model citizen.  Has anyone noticed?

I talked with Dora's human and found out that Dora is only five months old.  Talk about eager to please.  Those eyes said, "I'll do anything, anything you want.  Just help me figure out what that is."

And one pic for the road.  Isn't she gorgeous?

I paid my bill, and set out for home.  I thought a bit about doing this blog.  Only one of the Pugs was a rescue, and there is a part of me that wishes a good home could be found for every dog on earth that needs one, before breeding any more.  However, this Pug lady was doing a lot of things right.  The lady in the pet store told me that the dogs go everywhere with their human, sleep in her bed, and are the best socialized Pugs she has ever seen.  The Pugs are bred only once, at the age of three and a half years.  No puppy mill here.  These are happy, happy, well-adjusted dogs.  And cute factor?  No argument about that, except from Dora, who possesses more than a little charm, herself. Another day's adventures, and a story to tell.     

In closing, another thing about Bill..

Remember how I told you about a pretty much perfect day, yesterday?  Well I forgot to mention that this is what I came home to at the end of the day.  Bill cooks and does all the grocery shopping too!!!  Every night, I come home to the table set, wine poured, and an absolutely delicious and super healthy supper.  I didn't take a picture of the fresh pineapple he had cut up for desert.  It was gobbled up too quickly.  Oh my, do I ever count my lucky stars.  I broke my arm back in January (not on the bike) and that's when Bill began cooking and shopping, and he hasn't stopped.  Life is good, I tell you!

 

My meal, topped with Mrs. Dash, Brendan Brazier's special oil, and fresh lime.

 Broccoli, red chard, yams, carrots, asparagus, tofu, and brown rice.  Yum!!!  Note: I eat twice as much as Bill on most days.  No room to put the amazing salad on my plate yet, but it has spinach, apples, tomatoes, grated carrot, black beans, and of course, lime.  We love lime!

A Beauty Commute with bridges and beasts and a honeymoon.

Some days, the ride is fine. Some days, the elements, or a motorist, or even a cyclist can put things a bit off. Happily, those days are rare. I'm convinced my white/grey hair gives me a small advantage (or maybe it's the silly grin on my face), since most people allow me lots of distance and I always think I get more than my fair share of smiles.  

And then, there are the just plain fun days. Yesterday was one of those for me. Maybe it was all the happy vibes after a truly fun birthday party on the weekend, for a cool two-year-old and his super-cool parents. Have a good one, Cooper. Hope you, Mom and Dad had a good trip to Ontario. More to come later on this one. Something about kids running around your house that points out the good stuff around us.

But back to my commute. It began with a great latte.

Well, to be honest, three lattes. Yikes! That was overkill, but all in the name of a blog entry. More pics of my favorite (I have four) cafes soon. I'm wondering if any other Vancouverites are as addicted to lattes as I am. If so, let me know about your favorite haunts.

Then, it was on to the Burrard Bridge for a more leisurely than usual ride to work. Something made me stop when I noticed a cyclist taking a picture of his friend. I asked if I could take a photo of the two of them. 

That turned into a feel good moment, if there ever was one. They had just been married three days earlier (Sept 18th). That's Patrice taking the photo. He's from Switzerland. And his mate is Charn, from Thailand. When their honeymoon in Vancouver concludes, they'll be living in France. They've promised to send me wedding pictures, and I can't wait.  All the best in your life together, Charn and Patrice. Thanks for making my day even better!

I continued along Pacific Street, on an absolutely beautiful, but very windy day. Whitecaps on the ocean, and energy in the air. When I reached the corner of Denman, more pics. Something about the flowers and the sea so blue and the flags straight out.

Now, it was down Denman, left on Georgia, and along the causeway to the Lions Gate Bridge. Happy wind behind me. I thought of the beasts element of my blog, as I fully took in the magnificence of one of the lions at the entrance to the bridge.
And just a bit of the bridge. Since starting this blog, I seem to be seeing it differently every day.
I looked down to see these two boats. Just one pic here, but the sequence showed the boat on the left way behind, and then he seemed to race to beat the other one. They finally are just about equal here, before parting ways.
On the way home, after a good day at work, the day got even better.
This dear beast is named Shadow, and if you ever meet him in the West End, be sure to say "hi". He is a friendly, inquisitive and absolutely lovely fellow. I was getting on my bike after a trip to the bank, and he took a quick look through my pannier. I imagine it smelled of Black Jack's dog treats, but sadly, she ate the last one recently, and I neglected to do a refill. I promise, Shadow, to have some with me the next time we meet. He only has eyes for his clearly much loved human, in this photo. If you check out my Scott and Black Jack photos, you'll know I have a soft spot for black beasts. I think it started when someone told me they're always the last to be adopted. How could that be? Just look at those eyes.. and the eyebrows! He has a very friendly and kind human, too. Perfect end to a beautiful ride.

A Sunrise and a bit about Bill

I start my ride every weekday with a long beautiful coast down Point Grey Hill.  While it can be a little bit breezy, it's always stimulating and fun (except for a few days in the winter season, when there can be a thin icy layer on the road that scares me silly.)

Yesterday, I was late leaving for work, and knew I had to go full out if I wanted to make it to school in time for my first class.  As I approached the top of the hill, I saw this.

I stopped and took two photos, telling myself I would just have to hit a new speed record for the remainder of my commute.  I should probably add that speed is relative when you're my age.  Sometimes, I think I'm positively flying, only to be left in the dust by a real cyclist.

Here is the second shot.  It took some time to get this one without the stubborn streak of light that kept inserting itself in the middle of the photo.

  

On 8th Avenue, a block or so after Alma street, the light was shimmering through this tree, and I thought that might create a more interesting shot.  I rather like this third attempt, and if you're curious, I was only two minutes late for school.  All in all, a magnificent start to my day.

And now for just a little bit about Bill.  First, here's his picture.  I call him Beautiful Bill.  He calls it his Charlton Heston look.  I looked up some photos of Charlton Heston, and I'm not sure I see the connection.  Do you?

And just a couple of illustrations to show why I think he's about the best mate anyone could ever ask for.  Black Jack was my dog when Bill and I met, but he welcomed her into his life and considers her every need as they go about their days.  Bill is retired, so they spend a lot of time together, and I can tell you that Black Jack is one very secure and very happy little rescue dog.

Here, Black Jack has spotted a squirrel on the other side of our fence.  She is just about out of her mind, trying to get at it.  Bill rushes out and picks her up, so that she can have a better view.  This, for some reason, calms her.  I run for the camera as the a-a-aw feeling overwhelms me.

In this next picture, Bill is working at his desk when Black Jack asks to join him.  He picks her up, but since he worries she may not be perfectly comfortable on his knees, he brings her bed as well.  He then patiently waits as I again run for the camera, even though he really does not enjoy having his picture taken.

And a couple of pictures that I like of Black Jack.. just because.

 A side note: I asked Bill if he thought these pictures were as cute as I think they are.  He answered, "No, I think they're cuter."  See what I mean?  Then, as I was struggling to load these pictures, we agreed that there's a little man in the computer.  My mother came to the computer in her late 80's, and she always talked as though that little guy was just waiting to spite her.  My sister and I used to smile at her notion, and I truly thought I had a far superior understanding of computers until I started this blog.  Anyhow, then Bill commented that it could possibly be a little woman.  I noted that I'd prefer a "Bill" in the computer than a "Carol".  I quickly reminded him that no comment was necessary.  He said, "My lips are moving, but your voice is coming out."  (Maybe you had to be there:) 

Finally, a sign that was on the wall at the Foundation Restaurant at Main and 7th.  It amused me, although it's a bit of a concern that I'm pretty sure I fit into the third category.  

P.S. Final, final note: If you like veggie food, give The Foundation a try.  Bill and I love their food. The tremendously loud rap music  with the x-rated lyrics did put us old folks off slightly.  Our Scottish server with the intriguing hole in the seat of his pants, however, was an absolute delight.  He didn't even appear hurt when we thought he was Australian.  He did have to draw the line, though, at one of Bill's queries. 

Bill: Can we request music?

Waiter:  What would you like?

Bill: Do you have any Elvis?  

Waiter (with a smile) Fortunately not. 

A Bit about Biking

My Prize-Winning Picture from "Bike to Work" Week

"I see and feel the world differently through my bike. Crossing the Lions Gate Bridge on the way home from work, I stop for a moment. The sun glistens on the water and warms my face. The bike is old and covered with city grime, but to me, it is a thing of beauty. Through its frame, and the railings of the bridge, I take in the day and am awed by my privileged view."

In May, there was a "Bike to Work Week" contest.  You had to take a picture of yourself (or get one taken) , and write a 50-word description of why you love biking to work.  The picture was supposed to illustrate the words.  The prize was a bike, fully equipped with lights, panniers, fenders, front basket and bell.  I put quite a considerable effort into trying to show and express what it is that I love about biking.  I don't think it was so much about wanting to win the prize, as it was hoping to be able to articulate for myself why biking is such a huge part of my life.  

I was alone when I snapped that photo, and all I can say is, thanks heavens for digital.  I had to try more than a few times - no small feat to take your own picture and your bike and show some scenery as well.  I finally sat down on the pavement, near the center of the Lions Gate Bridge. Holding one hand up and diagonally over my head, I struggled even to find my face, let alone come up with anything usable.  Every once in a while, someone would walk by and I would grin sheepishly.  They would always grin back, but I could tell they thought I was more than a little weird.  I'm shocked that I won the contest - I think it was the words, rather than the photo, that pleased the judges.  As it turned out, I didn't keep the new bike, as I found my old one to be a better ride for my needs.  However, I did keep the panniers and lights, and love them.

I also submitted this photo, taken by my cycling friend, Jock.  I think he did a great job of capturing the joy I always seem to feel when I'm riding.  My description is below.

The wind in my face and the sense of exhilaration and freedom on downward slopes make biking to work joyful. Flashes of green slip by in a haze and I am connected to the earth while soaring above it. At sixty-one years old, the kid in me emerges. I realize I can't stop smiling.

Biking isn't something that came naturally to me. I remember when I was a kid, my younger sister learned to ride before I did. When I bought a bike as an adult, my high school students had to run beside me, helping me to keep my balance and showing me how to use the gears, as I practiced in the school parking lot. I progressed fairly quickly, and competed in my first (and only) mini-triathlon at the end of that summer. I then pretty much forgot about biking for the next 20 years.

Shortly after I moved to Vancouver, Jock found me a second-hand bike, so that I could commute to work during a bus strike. I used it during the strike, and put it aside once the buses were running again. It was when my work relocated to North Vancouver, that I finally decided I hated the bus, and didn't want the hassle and expense of owning a car. It was time to get the dusty, but apparently willing, bike out again. Jock brought it back to life once more (bless his heart), and I did a shaky but non-eventful test drive. For reasons too long to explain, I decided I had to have Shimano pedals. For those of you who may not know what they are, you can see them in this picture of my bike.  (Click on the picture to enlarge it.)

Special shoes fit into them, but with a slight outward twist of the heels, they are freed from the lock mechanism. For someone at my skill level, I don't believe they make any difference whatsoever to speed or stability, but still, I had to have them. When I fell twice in the same day, on one of my first commutes from work, Jock and his mate, Kitty, came with their car, and drove me and my bike home from the "crash" scene. I still have the scar on my arm from that miserable night, more than four years ago.  Excuse the ugly picture, but here it is.

That weekend, Jock led me on a trial run to North Van, and after witnessing my nervousness and lack of confidence, suggested kindly that biking wasn't my best commuting option. He added that he would be glad to buy the Shimano pedals, should I want to consider selling them. However, following him that day placed an image in my mind of what a confident cyclist looks like, and his suggestion that I give up was just what was needed to trigger a stubborn response. I biked to work the next morning, and although I would not describe it as fun, I did feel pretty pleased that I managed to avoid any crashes. I found myself imitating little things that Jock did, and slowly I became more comfortable.  For maybe the first two months, biking wasn't enjoyable, but I felt good about it.  There was a gradual transition, and I can't really tell you when, but I became aware at some point that I had a permanent smile pasted on my face.  I can now honestly say that there's no way I'd rather travel. 

Part of the reason for this blog is to write about or show photos of some of the things that happen on my daily trips.  Here's one little story:

I rode up the back path to get on the bridge one day, to find no cars and absolute silence.  I was listening to my little radio (not too loud) and suddenly noticed that I was able to hear the music much better than usual.  At that point, I noticed the lack of cars, and in the next moment, I saw a fellow walking towards me in the middle of the road.  It was definitely strange, but I smiled and waved at him and he said, "I'm sorry, dear."  I had no idea what he was apologizing for, so again, I smiled, and then continued on my way.  When I came to the end of the bridge, there were about a million cops swarming around, and they yelled at me to get off the bridge because that guy had a gun.  I hadn't seen any gun at all.  My friends at work still laugh at this story.  

Another time, I came onto the bridge, on my way to work, to find that someone had just jumped over the railing.  Again, lots of police and some questioning, but I wasn't able to be of any help to them, or to the distraught people who had actually witnessed the jump.  

Often, my stories are little ones - a mother duck herding her brood to safety, a tree that has fallen, a particularly beautiful sunset, flower, scene, etc.  

Two days ago, I stopped on the Lions Gate, to take some pictures of the bike for this blog.  I came across this memorial and stopped to think and wonder how Mr. Singh died.  It could have been a car accident, or any number of other ways, but whatever the way he died, he was clearly loved.  Sometimes, as I cross over the bridge, I think of the people who have died on it, and a feeling comes over me.  I'm not quite sure how to express it.  I imagine them in their last moments, and hope that their souls/spirits/whatever we might call them are at peace.

As I was thinking about Mr. Singh, and taking in the day, I tried to capture a little of the beauty around me.  Here are two more photos.  I like this one for the teal blue of the water.. 

 ..and this one because of the play of railings and trees and road.  

If I can find a way to describe him, my next blog could be about Bill.  Quite the thing to be living life with someone after umpteen solo years.  I liked my life before and had no plans to change it, but some things seem to happen almost in spite of me, and I have to say, it feels right.  So, until the next time.