My stalker

I just moved into an 'up and coming' neighbourhood and I knew the obstacles when I purchased...

It all started with a light stalking and quickly moved into stalking morning, noon and night. I could hear the footsteps and light noises outside my windows and doors. There had been no confrontation by the stalker; therefore, no reason to involve the authorities

But, there comes a time when you need to take things into your own hands in order to mitigate or eliminate the frustration. And that day had come!

Early one saturday morning, I got up and waited until I heard the noise again. This time it was coming from the front door. I stood at the door for a few moments, took a deep breath, plotted my confrontation and immediately took the leap!

I pulled open the door and there stood my six inch tall, four legged, and slightly greying stalker; a feline. As it looked up at me, it threw me a soft meow and slowly walked right past me into the house like I was expecting it's visit for weeks.

All my notions of yelling at it, shhhh-shing it and scaring it to a point of no return, ended quickly as we sat and had lunch together. It was primarily small talk...a getting to know you phase.

Weeks passed without knowing my stalkers name. So intuitively it was named by a friend, because of it's colour; Tiger. Come to find out, Tiger lives just next door and is a perpetual runaway. It's real name is Betty (AKA Tiger). It's all too ironic, given that my nickname for half my life was Betty. I am a Gemini...go figure, my twin is a four legged well groomed tenacious feline, who lives just next door.

Today, the meeting of felines continues with an understanding of limited visiting rights, ideally, less stalking and no friends allowed.

Motorbiking...

I went out for a motorbike ride today with friends Neil and Bill. Other than being a bit windy it was a great day for a ride. Bill has a Kawaski 800 Vulcan and Neil is 3 sleeps from taking a riding course, then off for his bike licence; hence Neil being a passenger with Bill.

After meeting for breakfast we headed north (ne & nw) along the fringe of the city. Two gas stops later, one suntan lotion stop, one beer stop and a mid afternoon snack stop, seven hours had passed and the weather was cooling down. Oh yes, Bill decided not to get gas and ran out.

A reserve tank is a wonderful thing. It has saved my ass several times and mostly on the highway. Nothing like the thrill of passing an 18-wheeler on the highway, on a windy day and running out of gas just as your looking up to wave at the driver.

Heading south this time, Gord and I took a ride to Kalispel, Montana in early July. Gord had never been through Glacier National Park so we ventured the Road To The Sun. I think the peak mountain drop IF you were to go over the barely guarded cliff would have you plummet 10,000 feet, to what might be considered your death.

On a more plausible tone, while riding up and down both sides you can literally reach out and touch the ice cold water falling off the mountains. It was somewhere in the vicinity of 100 degrees and yet you are looking at blankets of snow on the mountains beside you. The view and the smell in the air is literally breathtaking. If you are the motorbike enthusiast, it is a must see.

Going futher south last year, there were several of us who rode through a great history lesson: Our roadtrip to Sturgis, South Dakota. It was simiply incredible the number of people we met on a 4,000+ km trip. We ventured on the back highways to avoid the main highway obstacles, to take advantage of frequent stops and ride at lower speeds in order to take it all in.

We ended up leaving one of our (younger) friends in Sturgis because we were old and boring. Not to mention the fact that she shares my opinion on camping. My translation is Motel. Well, apparently not with the friends I now bike with. Shit, I've moved them from pulling over and sleeping in fields to at least staying in a campsite where a shower is possible at the end of the day.

Our friend made it home safely. It was odd for Gord to explain to Customs why he had three pairs of stilouettes in his saddle bags and no women on the back.

Two years previous to that, there were three of us who headed to Sturgis. This was my first trip to Sturgis. Going through Big Sky Country (AKA Montanna) was a pinch me moment. The skies are so incredibly open and the temperatures south of the border are a bikers dream.

Crossing the US border is good for two things...buying beer at the gas station and going without a helmet. Hmmmm, nothing better than having the wind blowing through your hair. We only stop every 1.5 hours for a frosty cold 3% alcohol beer...you know US beer.

I had two moments...
First one was when I looked down at something on my leg and my $18 sunglasses flew off my face. I liked my $18 sunglasses so much that I decided to to a u-turn on the highway without being able to see over the hill I was on. Call me stupid. Seriously, call me stupid. It gets better...I was also carrying one of my riding partners packs because his bike was falling apart (Harley). I had stuff packed on my handle bars and behind me.

My load on the back was shifting earlier that day and I stopped a couple of times to adjust. When I did my 5km/hr u-turn, the load on the back shifted and my normal centre of gravity was no more. The bike went down right in the middle on the yellow line. My heart started to race, I looked up and saw that I could really see nothing because I was on a hill and simply walked away from the bike.

In seconds, my friends were there and one of them picked up my bike and brought it to the side of the road. There was a fellow who had came over the hill on his bike just as I was dropping mine and he returned...with hi Auzzie accent pulled up to us on the side of the road and said 'shiny side up eh'. We all laughed and off we all went.

My second little incident was at Mount Rushmore. We were sitting at a T-intersection waiting for an opportunity to turn out left onto the highway. After waiting and waiting and waiting and waiting, I guess that I started to focus on clearing one direction only of the oncoming traffic.

I saw an opening and drove out...my friends followed. I immediately pulled over and went all weak from an adrelin rush. The problem being is that I did not look both ways prior to pulling out, I only looked one way and pulled out. The thought of what could have happend (being killed by a car coming from the direction I was not looking into) was overwhelming.

I shared the 'holy fuck what did I just do' with my riding partners. One of them who is a 25+ year vetern rider said that he was watching me and realized that I was not looking both ways. He said that he would have yelled at me or cut me off. I don't like to think about the whatifs but I often rewind that moment in my brain when I am out riding and try to turn all these (mis)fortunes into strong lessons.

I learned many lessons on that trip and fortunately lived to tell the stories. The good news is that we are heading out this week on another seven day biking adventure. Not sure where we are headed but what I do know is this...

LIKE MOST GREAT THINGS IN LIFE, IT IS NEVER ABOUT THE DESTINATION, IT'S ALL ABOUT THE JOURNEY.

A mother's wisdom...

My mother use to say to me, "if you are able to count all your true friendships on one hand when you get older, then you should consider yourself lucky". I kind of understood what she meant BUT I was a teenager at the time and one with larger than average breasts and a big white smile. I was popular and had the friendships by virtue of boobs and a smile,,, whether I wanted to be or not.

Well, those words from mother are ringing somewhat true these days. I still have a lot of friends, but my true friendships list is small and not more than a handful. Some days I'm great at nuturng those true friendships and other days I suck. I continue to learn and grow and become a better friend, as I get older.

In closing, another aging 'ah ha' moment from mother was... "the older you get, the faster time flies by". I used to think, what does she know, she's old. Ironically, she's only 17 years older than me. Shit, I have shoes older than that, dated men older (& younger) than that and kept clothes longer than that thinking that I would someday fit back into them.

Turns out, she was right on both counts.

Living and learning is a great way to grow, but to have the insight as a young person to listen and apply the wisdom of others is brilliant.

SELL, SELL, SELL

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I recently purchased a house that was built in 1920. Needless to say some renovation were required. During the 'house reno' process I had the opportunity to negotiate with various sales people in the world of retail. Most of those opportunities ended up being poor experiences.

How is it that during the initial 'building relationships' stage sales people are so sweet, wonderful and educated? Then how is it that those same sales people make you the enemy when things go sideways with their sale? Suddenly Stupid becomes a perpetual state. Possessing the ability to deflect any wrong doings must be a core competency to be hired.

How is it that the cupboards you order from an industry expert at Canac who takes your imperial measurements and converts them to metric proudly delivers a finished product that is the wrong size? Oh, but it is your fault because you signed off on their math, regardless that they told you that they were the expert and have been in the industry for years...

How is it that it takes Sears Canada over two months to try and deliver a washer and dryer set...today, still no dryer? Everyone promises to call you back right away and when you call them back they are on vacation for two weeks and no one knows what the issues are. There is no paper trail.

How is it that the dining room set that you ordered from Leons is being delivered in 8 weeks and after 10 weeks still nothing? A couple of phone calls later, the salesperson who sold you the goods is no longer with the company. Someone on the other end of the phone tells you that a container with your furniture is on route from China and is likely in Vancouver. You ask them how they know it is likely in Vancouver. They don't know how they know. They think they know. Do me a favour, stop thinking that you know what you clearly don't know.

Setting up wireless internet was a thrill. To have the LinkSys help desk staff in Indian either hang up on you, put you on hold and then hang up on you or blame your local service provider and hang up on you warrants no felt frustration. When you sooner set your hair on fire and put it out with an axe than deal with the 'easy to use' product and services, you begin to question your own sanity. And of course there was no communication barrier. None.

What did go well were the contractors. I called them the 'Dutch Connection' simply because they were Dutch and everyone they subcontracted to were Dutch. They were all easy to do business with; Fair with pricing, timely, had a sense of humour and actually took the time to educate me along the way. I did worry a bit about the plumber who electrocuted himself...slightly.

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