Sometimes it’s the simplest things that make you smile or get the warm fuzzies. I always try to see the silver lining and be grateful; sometimes that can be a challenge. But mostly I just have to take a look around me.

Waking up to the soulful loving eyes of Molly is one of those things. I’m reading a book (from my friend Sandy) that I hesitated to start. It’s called “A Dogs Journey “. There’s pain in loving a dog since their life span is so short. Saying goodbye is brutal. The book is written in the voice of the dog and in its reincarnations it becomes a new dog and finds its purpose and its people. In its current life the dog is named Molly and has a brother Rocky. The evil character is Gloria. Go figure. The dog Molly is the narrator and loves walks and cuddles and hearing her name. She also loves the smell of her human. When we go to bed at night, our Molly finds her spot near our feet. She loves to stretch out and lay on her side. However by morning she’s got her head on the pillows next to me. As I open my eyes we connect. Then she enjoys a cuddle and rubs. Don’t stop though or she will bat you with her (gigantic) paw.

Rudy is a reliable and consistent dog rubber. As he says good morning he’s petting Molly. Yesterday morning I felt lousy. Not sure exactly why but it may have been the wine with dinner? I was supposed to travel to my folks for some appointments. Rudy, without hesitation, handled Molly’s morning routine and then took off in my place to Stratford. I stayed in bed with Molly. It was exactly what the doctor ordered. Rudy stepped into my role with such grace. He even played cards with my dad and fended off my moms guilt barrages. When I finally woke hours later I was parched. The thought of getting up to find a drink was not good. When I rolled over I saw that Rudy had left several drinks on my bedside table. Beyond grateful.

When you’re not feeling 100% my go to antidote is a hot bath. Actually I don’t need an excuse for a bath. I’m a serial bather. On the weekend my sister gifted me with bath bombs from Lush. So I popped one in. The water immediately turned a bright tropical blue and the aroma was heavenly. I slipped into the tub and let the heat soothe me into oblivion. I had a fleeting thought to what my sister might be doing at that exact moment… meeting, conference call, report, presentation. For sure not bathing.

Molly didn’t leave my side all day. She patiently waited for me to get mobile and take her out. We had a great walk in the park. She patiently poses for anyone who meets her and wants to know her breed. Almost everyone comments that she’s like a little bear. I tell them that’s her name: Molly Bear Florio. She’s registered. Molly’s fur is growing back and she’s super fuzzy. And cute. If you type the word Molly, the auto fill option is mollycoddled. That’s perfect.

Laundry is one of my favourite things. It’s kind of a weird thing to love something that many others deem a necessary evil. But there’s something about the feel and smell of clean clothing and linens. We generate a lot of laundry; we aren’t too eco-friendly on that part. In my fog yesterday I still did a load. When I emptied the drier I found $40. The new bills are so washer friendly! And they dry nicely as well. Bonus!

Even on an otherwise crappy day there’s so much to be grateful for. Thank you universe.

I think all kids (especially girls) idolize their dads. They are strong, smart, fierce, loving, dependable. The list keeps going on. Now that my dad is 87 and has most of his life in the rear view mirror, he enjoys reminiscing about days gone by. Much to my mother’s chagrin. Today we took a road trip to Hamilton; me, mom, dad and Molly. Dad rode shotgun and the stories flowed.

He loves to talk about his youth in Kamitz (what was East Germany) and the shenanigans he and his brother pulled off. Today I heard a few new ones for the first time. Are you ready?

They lived near a neighbour who was a farmer. The neighbour took his produce to the market each week. The boys (neighbours son and my dad and uncle) were getting into things and the neighbour farmers wife suggested the kids pick raspberries to sell. They got a pail and picked until it was full and schlepped it to the market. Dad recalled how delighted they were when folks were paying them for the fruit. I didn’t know my dad had an ounce of entrepreneurial spirit. Who knew.

They also lived near a pond. The pond was stocked with fish. One day my dad dove into the pond thinking it was deeper than it really was. He dove straight into the soft silty mud. It wasn’t until his brother saw the legs kicking frantically that they realized dad was stuck head first in the mud. It was the first of many times my uncle saved my dads life.

Dad remembers the good food his grandmother prepared. She baked and cooked for the family and tended a small animal farm they had. Dad is in constant search of a similar bread that his grandmother made and these days he’s hooked on a walnut sourdough. His grandmother, however, baked a fatty ham chunk in the bread which can never be duplicated except in memory.

On their farm the lane way was lined with cherry trees. It was their joy to climb the trees this time of year and eat the cherries until they were full (stomach aches). Dad is annoyed that the cherries in the stores today are so expensive.

They had a cow, Rosa, who had milk production the likes of two cows. Dad giggled as he recalled milking Rosa and squirting the milk to the barn cats.

I don’t think he stopped talking for the two hour (almost) drive. Despite my moms best efforts. Once we got to Hamilton we paid a Father’s Day visit to two other gentlemen: Rudy Florio Sr and Walter Yanko. That would be Rudy’s (my husbands) father and maternal grandfather. Both buried at East Lawn Cemetery. Rudy’s dad was a hoot. And he could tell stories with the best of them, too. We often mud around using his voice as we mimic him talking about the cars at malls or traffic or sports. He was such an interesting man.

I never met Rudy’s grandfather, but Rudy will often recall memories especially around hard work, farming and gardening. He had a huge garden and always felt that you would never go hungry (as he had many times) if you could grow your own food. He’s buried with his wife and son (Rudy’s uncle “Fast Eddie”). Rudy’s sister Marilyn is nearby and tends to the plots. We are grateful for that.

Tomorrow is Father’s Day and I am grateful for the great dads I am privileged to know. This includes the senior dads and those deceased but it also includes Rudy my husband who is a fine father and example for his kids who are related and those he’s mentored in the football field and in business. I’m so proud of his accomplishments and continued graciousness. He teaches me a lot too. Everyday.

And my brother who quietly and stealthily goes about raising his son (my nephew Ben) and supporting his family in a genuine, intelligent and loving way. I’m so in awe of the man that emerged from the kid I once knew.

And my brother in law, Frank. Who has stepped up to the plate time and again as the head of his family whenever in need. I know his dad can take credit for showing Frank how to get things done. Frank is the one that we all count on to answer his phone (the hotline) and get us out of hot water. And he does it cheerfully.

To the men in my life: I salute you; I love you; I cherish you.

Today I was honoured to attend my friends appointment to Associate Chief Justice for the province of Ontario. I know she has carried out her judicial duties with poise, fairness and intelligence and this promotion is a testament to that. The appointment ceremony was full of all of the expected regalia befitting the position. And I was so proud.

The ceremony was held at Old City Hall in Toronto. I’d never been in the building before; it operates now as a courthouse so it’s a good thing I’ve not graced the halls. It’s a stately and imposing old building that is not very accessible as most are today. There is a tall staircase leading into the foyer which has more stairs leading to the main hall. Since it’s a court there are security measures including police presence and ex ray scanners. When I arrive I’m not subjected to the regular security scrutiny as they can see I’m dressed for an occasion other than court. I’m directed to yet another flight of stairs to courtroom 121 where the proceedings will take place.

There’s a flurry of activity around the courtroom and I can see photographers gathering groups for photos with my friend, the honouree. I see a lot of familiar faces including family members of my friend who I’m pleased to chat with. We know each other but haven’t spent time in many years. I can’t believe how much the kids have grown into young men and women. I know it’s a fact of life but I’m shocked. And the girls outfits. Just wow.

Lots of people are now milling around and the courtroom begins to fill. We are guided to the balcony for our seats and shortly after 4:30 pm a loud voice proclaims: “All rise”

The courtroom gallery spectators rise and a procession of robed judges files in. The court clerk recites the opening remarks in English and French. And everyone takes their seat. There was no anthem or conspicuous flag in the courtroom but I’m almost certain I heard the clerk mention the queen. Interesting. Please be seated.

At the front of the courtroom is the judge’s bench and there were three chairs. Only two were occupied. The Chief Justice and one Associate Chief Justice. The third seat was for my friend. And the first order of business was to have her take the oath of office. Once completed she took her rightful place. It was a solemn yet moving experience. Our judiciary is a strange collection of procedures and almost like a secret society. Fascinating.

There were a few speakers who lavished well deserved praise and accolades. And the final speaker was my friend. She articulated her legal career journey and thanked her family and friends for their support. She spoke with sincerity and humour and wit. The entire room erupted with resounding applause at the conclusion of her speech. It was heartfelt and real. Just like her.

The reception that followed in the hall of the court in the mezzanine level was a frenzy of robes and hugs and appetizers. Lively chatter and familiar networking. As the crowd thinned it was time to walk to Osgoode Hall for the private reception. It was a more intimate venue and a cool place to mingle. The history of the building was a very inspired backdrop to the event. Someone remarked that it was a bit Harry Potter-ish. I couldn’t agree more. Hallowed halls.

As I rode the subway back to my car I thought of how her daily life will change come September when she assumes the new position. And how this is exactly what she’s been working towards. You go girl!

I agreed (reluctantly) to sit on a board. It’s a national non-profit in the foodie realm. I didn’t know what I was diving into because no one could tell me with any substance or fact. That was a sign.

Oh. They were also looking fora treasurer … did I know anyone? Sure. I’m on it.

Our first meeting (with me in attendance) was held in Campbellville. No coincidence since I booked it. It was apparent that no one wanted to simply take action and pull the trigger without consensus and input. Really? To book a meeting. It was painful to endure the “reply all” on getting a date nailed down. Oh dear. What have I done? And I curse the I-genius that invented “reply all”. There should be a counter measure: the option to ignore irrelevant replies.

The new treasurer (that I recruit) and I attend the meeting along with the other three board members. It becomes immediately apparent that this is a ship heading off course with a dodgy compass. But the crew and passengers are very enthusiastic and excited about the journey. And hoping it hits land and doesn’t drift into uncharted oblivion. I’m having flashbacks to another board that I worked with. Luckily that one hit land and is to this day enjoying the spoils.

When the meeting adjourns I’m hopeful that there was sincerity and call to action behind the words spoken by the Chair. But I often wonder if jargon is a mask covering … what? Fear? Insecurity? Inability? Sayings like: “we should unpack that suitcase” or “can we circle back” or “we should park that for now” or “let’s create a deck for that” or “The meeting was heavy on cool-at-the-moment phrases and light on what needs to get done and how/who’s going to make it happen. I hate loose ends. (An aside: my sister has hundreds… like 800… emails in her inbox! I can’t imagine … just the thought of all that unfinished business makes me cringe. I would be in therapy!)

Meeting is over. I’m a bit wiser to the inner (semi) workings of the organization. I assign myself a couple of tasks: find a corporate organizer to help charter a course (same person who did it successfully got the other group I mentioned) and find a PR/communications person (the one they had was being difficult and the relationship was untenable). I also agreed to speak to personal contacts about corporate sponsors since this group is well positioned to be a star, but I don’t want to start engagement until I know there’s substance.

I contact the corporate organizer first. She’s so focused she gets right back and drills down to project potential. Yes, she assures me, she will create a proposal and present to the board. Check.

Next I contact the rogue communications person to get a lay of the land. After a couple of verbose (on her part) emails I suggest a phone call. She’s eager to chat and I have time on my weekly commute to Stratford for uninterrupted conversation. It turns out that a 2 hour commute is almost not enough time! She has lots to say. In between tooting her own horn a bit, she gives me some interesting insights such as confirming the errant course and lack of decisive leadership. She lets me know she has tendered her resignation to the board and will help a transition take place ASAP. What I also gather from our chat is that she’s doing a myriad of tasks and some of them beneath her pay grade (in her opinion). But no one else was doing them so she picked up the slack of her own volition. Without direction and working in a “silo” she managed to tick off some of the other departments. And so the cat fights started. Women can be so cruel and destructive when provoked (which is subjective). The emotion and personal attacks are very counterproductive. Touchy. Meh.

I gather my thoughts and follow up with the board. Crickets. Okay I guess I’m on the right track? Will find out at the next meeting.

Next meeting rolls around. I asked if my strategist colleague can have time on the agenda to present. Since I heard nothing I invite her to come early before the meeting takes on a life of its own. The meeting is at someone’s house. I’m not a fan of unprofessional venues as they set the tone sometimes. But okay. I’m a newbie.

My colleague presents. She’s convincing and articulate and she wisely keeps her presentation super short to encourage conversation. Her allotted 30 minutes turns into an hour. Everyone has lots to say and it’s all positive. The chair ends the session in favour of a short break by saying, essentially, “we will be in touch”. After she leaves the conversation continues: it’s a great idea but we can’t afford it. My view: you can’t afford not to.

The meeting continues. It’s a chaotic jump from topic to topic since the agenda was too general. More brainstorming on one hand and what’s not working on the other intermingled with information about what’s happening operationally. We’ve almost snagged a new major sponsor. There’s a glitch in one department. The website is lacking. And so on. The resident cat is winding around my feet st the table and it’s a pleasant distraction.

My face has betrayed me. I’m disengaged and bored. I don’t function well without a plan or focus. I need a clear mission …

The Chair calls me out: Susanne, are you there? What are you thinking? And then it happens. The mouth starts moving and I unload starting with I don’t think this group is a good fit for me. It’s too dysfunctional. Too disorganized. Too unfocused. And I add what I think are possible solutions to remedy. There are 6 sets of eyes widely looking at me. Then the conversation starts again. But there’s a renewed sense of energy and passion. There’s hope.

I haven’t called it quits yet. I gave a commitment to see a couple of things through. It may turn out that the fit is indeed faulty.

Thankfully Rudy is a solid sounding board.

Growing up my mom was in charge. The household was her domain and she had it under total control. My dad was the breadwinner and, I’m sure, was grateful to hand over the paycheques to mom who squared it away. She did it all on a lean budget and with three kids close in age. Once we were all at school full time she also added a career into the mix. Home cooked meals. Hand made clothes. Piano lessons. Hockey. Ballet. School lunches. Field trips. It boggles the mind how she juggled and struggled and coped.

Now she’s in her 80’s and the flurry days are long gone. Her days are now spent with my dad in their smallish apartment going through a familiar routine. But it’s mostly my dad who’s the juggler now. My mom is a different person.

I don’t know when it all changed. Or if it just morphed over time. All of the things my mom valued and relied on were slowly eroded never to return. First the kids flew the coop; no more frenzy and scheduling to master. Then retirement; no more productive satisfaction from a days work (even though we often teased that government workers don’t really work) and no more socializing with coworkers. Then arthritis and weak bones; no more yoga or biking or other joyful activities. Then macular degeneration; no more reading or bookkeeping or shopping. Then mini strokes; fuzzy memory and inability to articulate. The more I think about it the more I realize that I don’t really know this new person. It’s the other mother.

From time to time there’s glimpses of the old (former) mom. But more often than not the imposter is the one I talk to. She’s the one who’s afraid and angry and frustrated and lonely and worried. How can I help this stranger in familiar skin? It’s the eternal question of aging and the aged.

Last week I took mom to the Alzheimer’s Society. I was hoping that they had some activities that she could attend to meet others who are feeling a bit lost like her. Misery loves company? We met with a very nice young lady , Haley, who was the intake social worker. She had a glossy folder filled with firms and pamphlets and hand outs. She spoke in jargon and I could see mom tuning out. I tried to veer the conversation to where it should be (about mom) but I realized it was our first visit and there was a format to follow. She drones on about the various programs they offered and I tried to pick and choose the ones that would fit. She talked about grants and wait lists and counselling but never got to the punch line. Action. Next steps. Engagement.

In the end, after a hour, we were a tiny step ahead. Haley realized that her glossy materials were a bit lame (given moms diminished eyesight and dads cataracts) but she promised to follow up in a week’s time. What I wanted to do was tell her what I really thought (not usually a good idea): why go through the cookie cutter motions of assessment and present a cookie cutter info package without ascertaining the clients goals. Most of the programs offered were not a good fit.

But we’ve been around “the system” enough to know that you can’t ruffle feathers or expect anything better. It is what it is. My old mom would have been a lot more demanding in advocating for her family. Navigating the labyrinth of services is a full time job. My 2 hour plus drive home is filled with thoughts and emotions about how the tables have turned. My mom was my champion my whole life. Now that she’s the other mother she needs a champion. I can’t let her down.

(PS photo credit to my sissy … who understands)

I have become acutely aware that people and their state of mind is affected by the weather. Since April we have experienced what feels like unseasonably cool and wet temperatures and we literally cheer to see the sunshine. I’ve often wondered how folks in Vancouver cope? I remember watching the Twilight vampire series and thinking I would never survive on the west coast vampires or not.

Then Rudy and I had a conversation about Father’s Day and reminisced about how many years he took his kids camping in deplorable weather. Or how many May long weekends we shivered while trying to drink beer into the wee hours. It seems our memories are short when we are so eager to shed the cloak of winter. It’s been particularly difficult this year since we skipped winter for the most part.

Yesterday was our first sunny and warm Saturday. Georgian Bay Area temperatures are usually cooler than inland due to the breeze off the lake. It keeps the air cooler until the water warms up. People were definitely making the most of the day and there were joggers, bikers, strollers, walkers, dogs and even a few dare devils on the water. Everyone seemed happier and more smiley.

Rudy played in a golf tournament; couldn’t have asked for a better day. He hardly played st all during May as the courses were closed a lot due to wet conditions. June thus far has been only a bit better.

I enjoyed a quiet day outside reading and daydreaming. We are fortunate to have amazing views front and back as well as seating areas to take advantage of the views. Out back we have a ground level patio with a fire table. It’s our favourite spot in the evenings while the sun sets. On the third level we have a balcony out front with sprawling views of the Blue Mountains (you do have to overlook the highway and sometimes block out the traffic noise….. motorcycles are cool but they are unnecessarily LOUD!) and in the back, of course, is the Bay. On clear days we can see across to Penetanguishene. Now that we have comfy chairs it’s a premium place to lounge.

The best things in life are free: sunrise, sunset, the sweet eyes of pets and morning snores from my Bear. No place else I’d rather be.

It seems spring has arrived. Sort of anyway. Either way, rain or shine, Molly needs her daily walk x2. She’s like a clock and know exactly when it’s her time.

One of our favourite strolls is the Arboretum in Collingwood. This gorgeous park is adjacent to the downtown sports fields and next to Georgian Bay. The amazing use of the previous waterfront in the Georgian Triangle is a showcase for communities who are striving to get it right.

The horticultural society manages the arboretum and their mandate is to teach anyone with interest about plants and trees. There are hundreds of varieties for visitors to see and learn about as each specimen is clearly marked and described. If you like Latin you will be doubly thrilled.

Aside from the arboretum there are other creative installations paying tribute to indigenous culture. On Saturdays there’s a series of workshops to harness the energy of the earth through traditional dance and movement held at one of the features. The park is truly inclusive to all ages and any time you go you will be sure to see kids, bikers, elderly, joggers, birders, soccer enthusiasts…

Since the park is convenient to downtown it’s a quick stroll to get a bite, coffee, libation. Or you can simply take in the sweet aroma of everything in bloom this time of year.

A must see if you’re in the area.

I had not heard about Beautiful Joe before. But a few years ago I stumbled upon a gem.

Meaford is a quaint shore town on Georgian Bay not to far from our place. About 18 km – 20 minutes or so. Nestled among older homes and next to the river flowing into Georgian Bay is a lovely shady park dedicated to Beautiful Joe and his canine comrades.

Beautiful Joe has a story to tell that’s far from beauty until the end. You see, Joe’s owner, a mean man from Meaford, abused poor Joe to bear death. But Joe was rescued by the Moore’s who nursed him back to health and loved him unconditionally. The story piqued Margaret Saunders who wrote a book about Joe. Her story shed necessary light on the issue of dog abuse. And her story was the spark to a society dedicated to the rescue of animals and their service and loyalty to mankind.

I walk the meandering forest path with Molly and almost feel I’m surrounded by the gentle souls memorialized therein. It’s a peaceful and calm place that is for everyone to enjoy. The monuments and plaques scattered along the walking path are a heartwarming tribute to mans best friends.

There is a sheltered stand of mini plaques that individuals from all over have paid tribute to their furry friends. Reading them can bring a tear to your eye. A dogs love knows no bounds or geography; there are tributes from far and wide. There is even a cross carved out of remnants from 9/11 in memory of the service dogs involved in rescue and recovery.

We’ve been fortunate to feel the amazing love and loyalty a canine friend can bestow. I am grateful to those dedicated to eradicating animal cruelty. Grateful for Beautiful Joe.

www.beautifuljoe.org

Yes. Laughter. The total belly aching tearing variety. Undeniably the best remedy for anything.

It happened the other night with our good friends Leo and Sandy. Hysteria.

We return from our overseas excursion and are so glad to be home. The fur babies are content and Leo and Sandy have coddled them. There’s a snack tray with our name on it. A warm welcome for sure.

Jet lag sets in and we have to come to grips with the time change. We have gained 6 hours. Only 10 pm at home but our brains think it’s 4 am. Yikes! Sleep is elusive but finally we conk out.

The next day there’s errands to do; a slight backlog of random chores that need attention. For example, paying my fine for speeding in New York State (grrrr). We arrange to rendezvous at 1 pm at Sidelaunch Brewery; it’s a dog friendly spot we love and since Molly is doing errands with me she will be coming along. The sun is shining and there’s no one at the brewery but us. We enjoy a couple of beers. Then we head home.

Among the errands we covered is a pitstop for steaks and asparagus. Yummy. After our brewskies we head home to start an early dinner. We’ve been doing that more often; skipping lunch in favour of an early dinner and we really like it. The menu is set and we open a delicious bottle of wine. Leo and Sandy are rather digging the early bird special.

The conversation is lively and we enjoy a great meal. Then Leo presents the Ditka. A sample of cannabis he got at a conference. So we sample.

What ensues is the most laughing event I have ever experienced. Ever. The funny tales (perhaps not even normally that funny) were downright hilarious. I laughed so hard I cried.

And we were in bed by 9:30 pm.

Spring has sprung. It’s all good.

Nice to be home. Sleep in our own bed with Molly. Waking (at an ungodly hour due to time changes) to a spectacular sunrise and the sound of gentle waves lapping the shore. Feels s but like we are still on board the ship but with a huge cabin and our girl.

There’s so many things I want to dig in to (no Rudy, not like bridge … ) I hope I don’t get overwhelmed….

Firstly it’s asparagus season. My favourite time of year! We saw the signs in Europe and I was hoping we would come home to those delicious stems of goodness. And here they are. I’m thinking asparagus three ways for dinner tonight. Yum.

We ordered a couple of recycled plastic chairs for our bedroom balcony before we left. They should be in. Perfect time to sit our mornings or evenings and enjoy the peaceful waters and sun cycle. CR Plastics is a Stratford company co- founded by my college roommate Trudy Wiseman. Their furniture is indestructible made from recycled plastics that looks like wood. It’s heavy and durable with comfy cushions. Rudy is looking forward to a tipple and a stogie!

My sister bought me a great wooden candle holder for my birthday. We used it nightly in Florida and it was empty when I brought it home. I took it in to a local soy candle place to be refilled. It should be ready now.

The weather seems to have taken a warmer turn. When we left a few weeks ago it was rainy and cold with snow patches on the hills. Everything is blooming and I’m sure lilacs will be along shortly too.

One of my favourite indulgences is a mani/pedi. I’m overdue! My nails grew like mad on the trip. I guess that’s what happens when you’re eating well and often?? All I could think about in transit yesterday was how much grime and bacteria was collecting under the talons. Yuck. Thank goodness for hot towels and convenient bathroom.

After seeing the bike mania in Amsterdam, I’m ready to take my wheels for a spin. We are fortunate to have an extensive trail system right across the road with no need to worry about the traffic! Maybe I can bike to the nail salon.

Now that the threat of frost is over I can get my patio planters ready to go. And get the outdoor seat cushions set up. There’s nothing like a lakeside lounge by the fire. The planter at the front door needs seasonal update too.

So many ideas and projects. I better make a list.

Hello spring. Season of new beginnings!!