Something Has To Give

I know it's just my stage of life and the time of year, but it's just not possible to get everything done that needs to be done.

The pantry shelves are almost sagging with the load of row upon row of canned veggie juice, salsa, green beans and jams, jellies and pickles. The freezer is loaded down with sorted boxes and bags of sweet corn, raspberries and strawberries.

The wind whips through the empty garden. Only a few flowers remain and the large mounds of rhubarb plants. My shed is partially sorted through. A pile of hooks lie waiting to be hung on the walls and the rakes, shovels, forks and edgers are piled high on the back deck, awaiting disbursement.

The pool needs to be emptied and taken down. The picnic spot needs to be tidied and winterized. The flower pots need to be emptied and redone for winter.

And this is only one small part of life.

We have schoolboard duties. And busing. And teenagers. And a grade one boy. And a sick grandpa. And parents on a month-long holiday with house and thangs that need to be looked after. And puppies to train. And a million trees that need to be moved within the next week. And a wedding in November. And a shower I'm helping with. And school meeting in Linden. And windows to wash.

And so.

Something has to give.

And someone needs to remain calm and peaceful. And learn to laugh a bit more.

Just saying.

Puppies and a Snow Storm

Now that my little boy is in school I can hop in the vehicle with my husband for a day trip here and there. The other day it was to Regina, about two and a half hours south of us. He had a meeting and needed to deliver a load of couplings to Sask Power. So, I sat in the vehicle and wrote lists of all the things I needed to do back home. Colby and Pat had been out late the night before, harvesting. I had an evening booked for planning Jess's shower. And so, out of the blue (well, not totally and completely, but sort of), we went and bought two puppies.

I am not exactly a dog fan. But we've known for a long time that our boys need another dog. And probably a puppy. And probably sooner than later. But oh! The work! The training! The poop! Any thought or talk about it sent me running to my room to lie under my bed. Not literally, of course. But mentally. I c.a.n.n.o.t. raise a puppy, as well as my boys.

And so.

And so. 

Why not two, instead of one? Why not these cute little mutts we found on kijiji for pittance? Why not today?

And this is how I find myself at home by myself these days, scooping poop. Teaching little girls to sit. Feeding on a schedule. 

I named theme Phoebe and Gertrude. They're a pitbull, wolfhound cross. They are adorable. They are fun. They are busy. Help.

And over the first days of having these babies at home we also had an unseasonable snowstorm. Maybe six inches of heavy wet snow that bent the trees with all their lovely fall leaves almost in half. Some branches snapped off. Some trees I went and shook to save the branches.

Colby went and rolled in the huge pile of snow on the deck (in his swim trunks). Wyatt made snowball after snowball, huge ones. And the dogs barked. I stood shivering under the trees waiting for them to poop while large clumps of snow plopped down around me.

This is not for the fainthearted.