The Dog Park

I got kicked out of the dog park yesterday.

And when I say I, I really mean Brooklyn.  

And when I say kicked out, I really mean so embarrassed I had to make hasty escape never to return.

Hmmm, maybe I was a tad dramatic.

Anyhoo, the boys and I discovered a new dog park that is perfectly situated between my house and my gym.  The point being we spend an hour playing fetch (or other dog get Mop's ball and Mop sniffs a tree) and then the boys pass out in the car while I box for a half hour.  

Day one was fine.  Until the end.  The boys were having  a blast playing with an array of interesting terriers while I listened to their owners talked about auras and letting the past go as to move free into themselves (the park in on the east side of Rainy City - so the energy is a bit different.  ie. kooky).  When it was time to leave, Brooklyn decided to play his fun game of run away from me even though I have a treat (and this time I did!) but went too far when he ran into the road.  He thought this was a great place to run in circles and bark.  Then he chased his new schnauzer puppy friend McGregor up the street.  McGregor's ownner just stood their looking at me like a freak telling Brooklyn to 'shoo'.  Ummm, help me out buddy?  Like bend down and stop my idiot dog.

Okay fine. 

Day two, we got out of the car.  I kept both dogs on their leash.  Then we ran into McGregor again.  His dad asked me if we were better behaved today. I wanted to kick him.  At this point, Brooklyn tears away so fast I lose my hold on his leash.  He runs after a woman and her big black dog.  She turns around and starts yelling at me to get my dog away from her (I can see why, as her dog starts snarling at Brooklyn - sheesh, what a drag to have a grumpy dog).  Brooklyn is ignoring me, runs into the street again, denies my treats, and McGregor's dad shakes his head and walks away.    The lady with the black dog shook her fist at us.  I shook more than that back.

We will not be returning to hippy park. I don't think our auras meshed well.

So the boys and I will stick to Charleston Park.  If you are in Rainy City, this is the BEST off-leash park ever.  It has a waterfall.  Enough said. 

Sometimes I fear we will be kicked out of this place too.  After all, the other day Mr. Mop spent a good twenty minutes mounting another Jack Russell.  Luckily, all the dog owners thought this quite entertaining and hilarious.  Our auras are like-minded obviously.  That, or their dogs are just as nutty as mine.  

And by the way, Brooklyn came to me THREE times in Charleston.  Maybe the training is starting to kick in?  Or maybe he just went nutty at the hippy park with all the extra patchouli oil in the air.  Muhahahhahahaaa 

The Untrainable Dog

Mr. Mop may have an attitude but at least he can understand commands.  He can sit, stay, down, and come.  In fact, he is awesome at recall.  He is motivated by both food and praise.  He learned his commands really quickly - as in maybe ten minutes or so.  He's practically a genius.

And then there is Brooklyn.

Brooklyn the sweet, blinking little Yorkie that looks up at me with his tail wagging.  The one who is afraid of umbrellas and mittens.  The one who is IMPOSSIBLE to train.

Part of me thinks that he is only nine pounds and therefore does he really need to be trained?  I mean really, if I want him to do something I can just make him do it.  Nah, that's irresponsible.  He really should understand at least the basics.  Like sit. 

I have been trying to get him to sit for about six months.  I kid you not.  Nothing works on this dog.  He gets way too excited for food.  One book says the way to get them to sit is to place food in front of their nose and then trace it over their head while saying 'sit'.  This makes them lift their head and their bum usually goes to the floor.  Over time, they connect the action and bob's your uncle!

Brooklyn?  I've tried that one.  He wiggles backwards, or dances around, or, just recently, rolled over and then ran in circles.  I've tried this method.  My cousin tried this method.  Even a random man at the park tried it, but with the food starting on the ground.  It was sort of funny because this man clearly had an ego and thought he would show the stupid blonde how it works.  But Brooklyn licked his nose, grabbed the treat, and ran for dear life.  Way to show 'em Brookie!

Then we tried the collar thing - not the choke but the one similar.  He doesn't even notice the pinch!  He just wags his tail.

I make him sit and then tell him how good he is.  Last week he just tooted.  

So if I can't make him sit, do you think I can get him to come?  Oh god.  It's a disaster.  For a while, I tricked him into thinking I had treats in my pocket.  He wised up to my game.  He'll only come about a foot away from me and then make a run for it.  Usually it isn't so bad.  A couple of chase games and I get him.  

But last night at the park there was a bit of a fiasco.

I put Mop in the car and then went after Brooklyn bribing him with mints as that was all I had (ummm, perhaps I should wise up here and start actually carrying treats?).  No fool here.  He ran in circles in the middle of the road. Then went into a neighboring yard and hid behind a pine tree, where he found a dead mouse. 

Pleased with his mouse, he made a break for the park with me hot on his tail.  At this point, a little old lady (wearing curlers in her hair and no teeth) with her Bernese Mountain dog and a family with two golden retrievers joined in the capture.  They too tried luring him with actual biscuits, but nada.  The dork had a dead mouse.  

At this point, he did actually drop the mouse because I think he thought we were playing.  He started to do this high pitch barking combined with running within inches of our treats, wagging his tail and then running in circles.  

Meanwhile, Mop is going nuts in the car scratching the window to get out and barking.  

I think Brooklyn tired out and lost his guard when he finally came in close for the biscuit.  I managed to get him and thank my fellow dog-catchers with high embarrassment painted on my cheeks.

Now Brooklyn not only thinks we were playing but he got rewarded in the end for being an idiot.

I'm starting to think it is I that is the idiot . . . .

Garlic Bombs and the Super Nerd

As I spend so much time in New York, I rarely do the tourist things anymore.  I've never been up the Empire State Building or even to the Statue of Liberty (well, I've seen her from the ferry) and usually in the few days leading to my departure I freak out and do all things touristy so that I don't feel guilty.

And I always do them alone.

But not this time.  This time my mother was in town AND the Engineer was done exams - so they had to come with me!  Not that I have to twist my mum's arm, but the Engineer always needs a bit of prodding. 

One such occasion was a walking tour of the LES (Lower East Side for you non-NYers or non-immigrants) which blended my two favorite things:  eating and history.  At first the Engineer moaned about having to come with us so it completely surprised me when our tour guide asked if we had any questions and his hand popped up.  I nearly dropped my friend banana (Dom. Republic stop #1) when he dared to speak out loud in front of people.  (Two minutes before when our guide asked if there were any first born sons the E refused to volunteer.  He informed me that he doesn't like talking in front of strangers in a snide whisper.)

The best part was, I knew the answer to his question!  I also knew the answer to the guides first question:  what immigrant group is currently the largest entering the States (Dom. Rep hence the bananas)?  My hand shot up like the super nerd I am.  In fact, the whole group of old ladies was impressed with my immigrant knowledge.  I felt like in Grade Seven again when I was still the smartest kid in class.

The tour was really interesting and I recommend anyone to do it via Big Onion tours or the Lower East Side Tenement Museum (my fav museum in New York).  I swear, I must have been a Jewish immigrant in my last life because I truly relish the history of this tiny pocket (like did you know one in four Americans can trace their history through Ellis Island and subsequently the LES?).

I quickly realized I was that person on the tour.  The one who knows all the answers.  The one who has lots of questions.  The one who keeps putting up her umbrella to get some shade and hitting the man from Texas.  

The E wasn't even embarrassed though, because even he was into the history.  Trust me, if he is, then so will you. 

Where was my mum?  Behind us taking pictures.  In fact, we kept losing her because she would be stuck somewhere taking pictures.  The E got mad at me when I wouldn't wait for her.  I hissed that she should listen to rules and that means keeping up with the group. 

I am that nerd aren't I?

I must also point out our favorite hot spot on the tour.  It's a must if you are going to NYC and love pickles.  Go down to Essex Street to 'The Pickle Guys'.  It's been there forever and they have barrels of pickled food from actual pickles to carrots.  You can get them 1/2 sour or full -which just means how long they sit in the brine.  Go full.  Go full and then eat them all.  It's like a delicious garlic bomb is going off in your mouth .  I kid you not, I am literally salivating as I sit at my MacBook right now just thinking of that dill kosher goodness.  

Aaaaaah (that's Homer-esque drool)

www.bigonion.com

www.tenement.org

www.nycpickleguys.com

PS.  The Engineer can't wait until I come back because now all he wants to do is go on walking tours!!  muhahahahahaaaaaa

Riding the dog

Greyhound Canada is the largest provider of intercity bus transportation in Canada, serving nearly 1,100 locations. It has become an icon of bus travel, providing safe, enjoyable and affordable travel to 6.5 million passengers each year. The Greyhound running dog is one of the most-recognized brands in the world.

According to Transport Canada, buses provide passengers with remarkably safe travel compared with other road vehicles and other modes of transportation. Greyhound Canada's own safety rate has been calculated as 10 times better than the trucking industry standard.

For a company so proud of its high standards, why then are they so sensitive about their customers taking photographs of their buses? So sensitive indeed that their conditions of travel state: Photography, video or audio recording of Greyhound personnel, equipment or procedures is strictly prohibited.

To find out why, Island Blog sent a mystery traveller across Canada - from Toronto to Vancouver - 3 days and nights riding that world famous dog.

All went to plan through Ontario (28 hours), Manitoba (11 hours), Saskatchewan (10 hours) and into Alberta. Two buses, several drivers and all went smoothly. Until, at 6am on day 3, and the dog shuddered to an unscheduled halt. Calgary was still more than an hour away and the dog was going nowhere. Greyhound's customers were not happy. Hungry and tired, they wandered aimlessly at the roadside admiring that icon of safe, enjoyable bus travel.

It was apparent that all was not well with this dog. Where there should have been six wheels on the road the dog was almost down to five. Wheel number 6 had shed most of its wheelnuts and has hanging on by a whisker.

Such incidents have happened to buses throughout the world - and in most cases they are as a result of wheel studs not being properly tightened when a wheel has been refitted. A lucky escape for our mystery traveller then - that the driver was alert to the problem before the wheel parted company altogether - which it surely would have done within the next mile or so.


Maybe Greyhound is rightly sensitive about photographs being taken by its customers? Maybe they will not always portray the image the company would like?

There's something about a cop......

Every once in a while, there's a story that captures the public's imagination. They say that every picture tells a story - and today's Vancouver Sun tells the tale of this fair maid who was taken into safe custody by the Vancouver Transit Police for impersonating a passenger in a car occupying the Highway 1 HOV Lane** in Burnaby, Vancouver.

** Note for the benefit of my sister ...... HOV Lane = High Occupancy Vehicle Lane (2+ people)

Of course the story was a serious one - and the young girl's chauffeur was fined $109 for travelling in the HOV lane with a mannequin. What captured my attention was the range of comments the story attracted! Here are just a few...

"There are a group of us from Abbotsford and Chilliwack that use mannequins which
were purchased at a Vancouver Auction 2 years ago, there are ways to make the
Manniquin look alive and so far, this is the only person to be caught, of course
we don't drive Expencive cars, just everyday cars! If you are looking for a
manniquin to get home faster, check out ebay, tons of deals on there! They are
less than $109.00! "

"Finally Const. Shipley has a date he can take home and introduce to his mom."

"Great!! Now what is he going to do on those long rainy Abbey evenings? "

"Cute couple. The other guy looks jealous."

"The cops have once again broken the law. They have zero right to seize the mannequin. The only law that was broken was the HOV 2 occupant law. Once again the cops look like idiots making things up as they go along."

"Now the cops are Home wrecking - this may be a long term relationship that they are destroying "

"She's cute. What's her phone number?"

"Wow, I must say I'm surprised by everyone's comments. I'm glad the guy got caught, serves him right! And yes, I agree the fine should have been bigger. HOV lanes are there for a reason, to encourage carpooling. And yes, HOV lane restrictions are in effect 24/7 365 days of the year"

Needless to say, HOV lanes have yet to arrive on Gabriola - and when they do, you can bet that the mannequins will be better dressed that this!

The Mom Translator

Alas, I must apologize for my lack of entries that I know you all look forward to eagerly (ha!) but I am back at the keyboard so fear no more!  Okay, enough of that.  Here we go . . . 

For my entire life, my mother has always said things wrong.  Cool things like celebrity names, designer brands, and mainstream stores.  For example, she calls 'La Senza' 'La Stenza' - even though I have been correcting her for 15 years.  I had a boyfriend named Russ and she always called him Ross.  But then called Ross on Friends Russ.  Go figure.

SNL did a HILARIOUS parody (I would link it but poor Canadians can't watch US TV online) called 'The Mom Translator".  Basically, it is a product similar to those Japanese computer translators where you enter the Japanese word to get the English translation (my saviour in Japan) except instead of 'oishi' (to get delicious) you type in the name your mom is giving you (Keith Ragu) and the random facts she knows about the celebrity (he's a man, in a fast movie) and you get Keanu Reeves.  That is a run-on sentence.

The Engineer and I lol'd for quite some time over this.  I said I needed that for my mom.  Then the Engineer said he needed it for me!  WHAT?  

Okay fine, I admit it.  I often use words wrong or sort of make them up hoping no one will notice my folly.  The Engineer always notices and then points it out.  Thanks.  But celebrity names?  Have I turned in to my mother?

And then this happened:

Mom:  That guy is going to be in a play. That old one.  You know.  He's old.  He's British?

Sarah:  Ian McKellen?

Mom:  Yes!  The wizard.

The Engineer:  How was the show last night?

Mom:  We saw Jane Fonda.  I talked to her after.  And then that guy was in it.  The son of that guy.  What's his name?

Sarah:  Tim Hanks's son

The Engineer:  Tim Hanks?

Sarah:  I didn't say Tim, I said Tom

The Engineer/Mom:  No, you said Tim

Oh god.  I have turned into my mother!  I need the mom translator!!  I also should note that I had just shown my mum SNL's skit and we both were laughing.  And then I turned into my mother while making fun of her.  GAH!

Meh, it was bound to happen at some point.  I used to be hip to all celebrity gossip and now I don't even know who starred in Twilight.  I watched the MTV movie awards and I didn't know half the people!  When did that happen?

Here are some more examples from my mum, and I am not this bad.  Yet.  (these are from yesterday)

- she wanted me to try on some Dolce and Gribbina glasses

- we were in a strip mall and she says, "this place has a cute name, like Monkey Banana or Banana monkeys or something like that"  The name?  Short Pants Mall.  "I said it was something like that".  Yeah, banana and pants are easy to mix up.

A matter of perspective?

From the port of Calais in France, on a good day you can see the white cliffs of Dover - some 20 miles away on the English coastline. The cliffs rise to about 100 metres above sea level and they appear as a thin strip of white rockface just above the horizon.

From my garden on Gabriola Island, most days I can see the Sunshine Coast on the BC mainland - also about 20 miles away across the Strait of Georgia. The difference here is that the mountains along the coastline make it seem so much closer - and I still find it difficult to believe that they really are 20 miles away. The difference, of course, is that the mountains in that part of BC rise to more than 1,400 metres - and therefore, despite the distance across the Strait, they are so much more prominent than the English coastline is from France.

Like the English Channel, the Strait of Georgia is crossed by numerous car ferries - with the route from Nanaimo to Tsawwassen passing close along the coastline of Gabriola, seemingly little more than a mile (but in reality probably two miles) from the shoreline near our house. A second ferry route from Nanaimo takes a more northerly route to Horseshoe Bay in West Vancouver - and from our window these ferries are also visible on the horizon, giving the impression that, as they pass through our field of vision, they are already close to the BC mainland.

In truth (as confirmed by the GPS tracking on the BC Ferries website) at the time that they are visible to us, these ferries are only half way across the Strait and probably still 10 miles from the distant BC coastline - so as they disappear from view they are not, as I had imagined, entering the approaches to Horseshoe Bay but merely disappearing over the horizon.

Erroneously, I had assumed that my view of the mainland took in the mountains and their lower slopes running right down to the coast. If that was the case, then I would be expect to be able to see the many cruise ships that pass along the BC coast en route from Vancouver to Alaska at this time of year - but I don't, as they are (I assume) also below my horizon.

From my vantage point on Gabriola, I am only about 25 metres above sea level. If I can't see the coastline of mainland BC, then where does my view of the Sunshine Coast actually start - 50 metres above sea level? 100 metres? 200 metres?

Now, if only I had become a scientist......

If only every airline treated you like this.....

"Good morning, can I have your second name please? Ah yes, John. How are you today? I have your reservation for the 8.20 departure. Do you have any luggage today? Can we carry it to the aircraft for you? And you're returning at 17.40 - is that correct? Okay... all I need now is some photo id. That's great - here's your boarding card. Just take a seat for a few minutes, we'll be boarding shortly.... please help yourself to coffee and cookies while you wait"

There's a range of complimentary newspapers in the departure lounge too... and the cookies are really good. Boarding card in hand, I settle down with the morning news and a coffee. Meanwhile, the baggage for the 8.20 flight is placed into a trolley and taken to the aircraft for loading. Suitcases, briefcases and laptops.... specially labelled to ensure they are loaded with care.

Pretty soon, the check-in clerk calls passengers for the 8.20 flight to follow her to Gate 2, where the plane is ready for boarding. Boarding cards are collected and the captain walks ahead of us to his aircraft (nice touch) welcoming everyone aboard and making sure we're all safely seated and belted in.

"There are 5 exits on this aircraft - two at the front; two at the back and one in the roof. Life jackets are under your seats. Sit back and enjoy you're flight,we'll be downtown in about 20 minutes." The captain checks the cabin doors are closed and climbs into the cockpit next to his co-pilot. The engine bursts into life and he leans out the door to check that the aircraft is untied and ready to go.

The runway's got a few ripples on it today.... which is probably not surprising as we're in Nanaimo harbour on a Harbour Air 14 seat Turbine Single Otter floatplane and following in the wake (literally) of it's two-engined brother, the Twin Otter, favoured by West Coast Air on this route for its extra seats and higher cruising speed.

Harbour Air has grown from 2 aircraft in 1982 to more than 30 today, and prides itself on offering a professional service to its customers. The deHavilland Turbine Otter last came off the production line in the early 1960's - yet the fleet is immaculately turned out and only the view into the cockpit reveals the true age of the aircraft.

With a short burst of power we're airborne - and flying over Entrance Island lighthouse before striking out across the Strait of Georgia towards Vancouver. Very soon, we're flying around Vancouver's English Bay and over Stanley Park before dipping down into the Burrard Inlet and coasting in to a smooth landing alongside Canada Place. Greeted by the ground crew, our aircraft is safely tied up and the captain welcomes us to Vancouver.

Everything about Harbour Air's service is indeed professional - and what a way to arrive at a transportation conference - just ten minutes walk from the terminal!