Welcome to my New Home!

I have moved back to my birthplace - a town of about 1800 in rural New Brunswick, Canada.

I have been gone for 20 years working in various cities, but not a lot has changed around here. People still leave their keys in their cars and their front doors unlocked...people still walk into your house without knocking and help themselves to a cup of coffee....and neighbors are both nosey AND some of the most helpful and wholesome folks you will ever find!

I am not sure if I will fit in here. I am used to "breakfast, lunch and dinner", not "breakfast, dinner and supper" which leads to all kinds of confusion when my friends show up at noon for a meal I was making at 6pm. I am also used to wearing $100 Lululemon yoga pants not $15 WalMart specials. (Not that there is anything wrong with WalMart!).

I have a convertible, which is completely inappropriate for a town that has snow 6 months of the year. I loved it when the old-timers would say, half-smiling, "So, you gonna be driving that car this winter?" like I might have just fell off the turnip truck the night before. I'd make my big blue eyes as big as I could as I would sweetly reply "Do you think I could....?"

Well, I WILL adjust, I WILL! One way or another, I want to be part of this town. I want to "be the me I was when I was child", not the one I created while living in the city.

So, let me share my experiences with you, as I adjust to this new, but old, environment.

Sunday, October 30, 2016

Where the Wild Things Are!

One Saturday night a few months ago, Greg and I were up late watching movies on Netflix. It was about 1:30am when we decided to go to sleep. The routine is that we let the pups out to go pee-pee before bed. One puppy was in the TV room with us, but the other one was lounging on our bed at the other end of the house, taking a nap before he went to sleep for the night.

I pounced on Danger who was laying on the bed to give his a wake-up hug, and I noticed on the security camera (yeah, I know, what kind of country-girl has a security camera?! Story for another day)....that we had left the garage door open and there was a light on in the garage. I watched the security camera for a few seconds, and then to my shock and amazement I saw a big brown or maybe black thing wander past the doorway. A bear! I have never in my life had a bear in my garage. Oh, goody!

With that thought in mind, I ran at warp speed to the other end of the house, with one goal in mind. I was going to capture a bear in our garage! I yelled to Greg a summary of the situation as I passed him in the hallway. My poor husband did not even have a chance to speak before I attempted to use the remote to close the garage door to keep the bear inside. Fortunately for both the bear and I, the noise of the garage door got his attention, and he ran out of the garage, not even 25 feet from the patio door. He looked back at the garage door, which was slowly closing, and I swear that darned bear looked at me and shook his head and gave a pitying sigh.

Greg finally found his voice and asked me what I was doing. I told him I was trying to capture the bear in the garage but it got away. He asked me what I was going to do with the bear if I had captured it. Um. Good question. Hadn't really planned that far ahead.

Greg gave me a little lecture that night. I have been told that I am not allowed to capture any wild animals in the garage unless he gives me permission. Seriously?! He's no fun at all!

Friday, October 21, 2016

Piggly Wiggly

I've hit the wall. As it turns out, there is such a thing as TOO MUCH COUNTRY!

I have been very proud of myself these last 5 years. I arrived back in my hometown all full of energy and confidence as I embarked on my journey to become a country girl. And now I figured that since I have been home for 5 years, I have seen it all.....camps, outhouses, 4-wheelers, fishing, campfires, porch-sitting, peeing in the forest....what else could there possibly be? In fact, I think I got complacent, and way too cocky, so the Universe decided to demonstrate to me I am not fully country just yet!

Last week-end, our friends decided to have a pig roast. I have been to Hawaii several times, and I have been to a luau where a pig is roasted in the ground for many hours. When it is done, the meat is served along with salad, veggies and poi, a Hawaiian dish made from the fermented root of the taro, which has been baked and pounded into a substance like mashed potatoes, but way more gray and tasteless. Roasting the pig was all a very civilized process, mostly because all I really got to see was roasted pig meat (ie pork, as we like to call it in the city), on my plate.

Cut scene to a pig roast in rural New Brunswick. I SAW IT ALL! I didn't just see pork on my plate, but I saw a little piggly wiggly with his front legs up in the air like he was saying, "I don't want any trouble, please don't shoot!" I saw the little piggly wiggly as he (I assume it was a he, since surely some mean old farmer wouldn't kill a girl pig, would he?) was turning round and round on a barbecue spit. It was like he was on one of those rides at the fair that turns round and round and makes your stomach twist all up, but he didn't have a stomach anymore! Instead, it was making my stomach twist all up, and I was neither on the spit, nor on a ride at the fair.

And then there was the turkey. Well, what can I say about the turkey? The barbecue spit is only so long, so in order for the piggly wiggly and the turkey to fit on it at the same time, the pig's nose was shoved up the turkey's bum. I am sure that in the world of barnyard etiquette, it's politically incorrect for a pig to stick it's nose up there. The turkey surely has rights, and in my opinion its rights were being violated terribly!

About 10 hours later, we ate.

I have not been the same since. All I see in the background of my brain is a rotisserie with a pig and a turkey, both waving at me. The turkey is looking frightened, trying to get away from the pig, whose nose is in the turkey's no-man's land. 

I have been eating a lot of toast and cheese whiz since last week-end. Cheese whiz doesn't have eyes that will haunt you for weeks.

Wednesday, October 12, 2016

What Not to Say

When I have an "interesting interpersonal experience" with someone, it always makes me want to write. Simply put, when someone acts like a -butt- in my presence, it makes me want to ponder how this person's brain operates. I enjoy analyzing people's behaviour....including my own.

Since I LOVE lists (just ask my husband, who may not love lists as much as I do), I have come up with 6 of my least favorite things people have talked about at the dinner table. My advice is to -not- talk about this stuff with strangers, near strangers, acquaintances, friends, family, or any other human being. 

I have compiled this list using my experiences from the last 47 years, so if you think you see yourself described, it is surely pure coincidence. Really.

Top 6 things NOT to talk about at the dinner table:

6) Body parts on yourself or others that aren't working up to snuff and what needs to be purchase at the pharmacy to make sure there are no "accidents".

5) How you were at this really cool ethnic wedding once where guests were eating parts of animals that typically are discarded into the dumpster.

4) How you wish you had known your date had such handsome friends, because if you had known, you would have attended the dinner with one of them instead of your date (who is sitting beside you).

3) How you are not sure if your teen son is old enough to have lustful thoughts and take lustful actions (see an earlier blog I wrote for more gory details).

2) How great you are. Surely, you are the very best at what you do. It is obvious by the way you carry yourself in the world. But please do not attempt to entertain us with details of your terribly successful (and yet terribly boring) career. We all think we are the very best at what we do, but it is all a fanciful illusion.

1) Who has died in your family, what they died of, and where they are buried. 

In the event you are at dinner with someone you never want to see again, start at #1. You may not even make it to dessert.