I didn’t forget you. In fact, like a child stuck inside on a rainy day, I too have been mournfully lurking by the window, waiting for the skies to clear and my chance to re-emerge in the sunny blogosphere.
Well, the figurative sun is back, and I’ve got my rubber boots on, ready to jump in some puddles!
Gwynn and I have been on some adventures. Some together, some apart, but always epic… or at least exhausting.
Around the time I stopped writing anything on my blog, I got a temporary new job (same employer, different office)… nothing like doubling your daily commute and adding two hours to your workday to make you feel like death. I finished (temporarily) my work at that temporary workplace, and am back at my original workplace. There is a connection between this and my return to blogland. I am still unusually sleepy and lacking in motivation – but I’ll be home before 8pm every night, so my mood is on the up and up. That should also increase my posting rate from zero to ‘sometimes’.
What happened while I was gone, other than sheer, utter exhaustion?
I went rafting; Gwynn went camping. We both drove long distances to get there and ended up in the drink. Gwynn ate some super gross things off the ground while camping. I ate the most delicious soup on the planet – who knew
instant-powdered soup could taste even better with chips sprinkled liberally in it?
Gwynn and my family were gone camping for three weeks. It was… an adjustment. Luckily, the exhaustion of working over 10 hours each day, not including the commute, left me with little energy to find it weird that I didn’t have a furry foot-warmer when sitting anywhere, or that I didn’t have anything in particular at all that I needed to do when I got home.
When I eventually made it up camping for a weekend, Gwynn and I saw a bear. Very, very close at hand. Gwynn barked at the bear; I yelled at it. Gwynn tried to go see the bear; I tried my best to keep hold of him and not be dragged into the woods after it. I was triumphant. The bear made good his escape. We tried to get a picture of him, but that’s when the parks truck showed up.
Gwynn jumped off yet another boardwalk and into the swamp – I don’t understand why he refuses to jump off the dock at my cousins’ cottage, but is fine with jumping into disgusting muddy rotten-smelling-water in the middle of a trail.
Gwynn and I re-initiated learning of the ‘play dead’ trick. We’re still working on it, but the basic plan is to be able to level my pretend gun at him, say, ‘BANG’ and have him roll over on his back. He is a very melodramatic actor, though, and his version of ‘dead’ has an awful lot of twitching and kicking.
I went to a friends cottage; Gwynn came too. I proved myself to be a terrible dog owner by leaving him alone at the cottage for a few hours at night, in a small room full of his toys, chews and pillow. He spent that entire time crying pitifully, as reported by the neighbours. When I came home, he was curled up, apparently asleep, on a couch. I didn’t even know that he was crying for hours. I am a terrible, horrible, awful person. I’d like to think that I made up for it by frolicking in the waves with him for most of the next day. We also walked back to the cottage along the beach in the rain. I’d have been more unhappy about the rain if it weren’t for the fact that it made the water wonderfully warm-feeling, and the fact that Gwynn had a blast racing around in the sand and splashing in the shallows.
Doodle started university – she is now a proud attendee of the University of Ottawa, and unlikely to blog all that much, though time will tell.
Gwynn and I are also joining in on Kol and Kelly’s K9 Kamp, more on that a bit later. The first challenge is walking a minimum of 60 minutes this week. I’m taking it to mean a minimum of 60 minutes per day, because Gwynn would mutiny if I tried to go for any less. He is already displeased with the drastic reduction in Gwynn-focused time since coming back to the house.