My last post, That Sinking Feeling, got more comments, both on the site and to my personal email address, than any other post I have written so far. Thank you so much, dear readers, for your input. Yes, the sink is fixed, with wooden supports this time. But there were a couple of comments about the cat, and it got me thinking about Jones.

Jones was my condo cat when I was living in the city before I met Peter. Jones was very spoiled, eating gourmet cat food, sleeping wherever he wanted, and generally living a pretty good life as an indoor cat. Then Peter convinced me to move to his large property in the country. Jones really had no say in the matter; living in the country was not his idea. Peter wasn’t too keen on this idea either; in Italy where he comes from, cats know their place – in the barn chasing mice.

Well Jones knew his place too – on the most comfortable chairs in the house. First he tried out Peter’s TV-watching chair. When he was chased out of that, he found Peter’s desk chair, soft leather. Next he scurried into the living room to check out the white sofa, Peter not far behind with his booming voice. Finally Jones settled on the rug near the back door. He took up his place watching the birds, squirrels, rabbits and chipmunks. He was quite content to sit inside for hours surveying the property and sizing up life in the country.

After a few days I opened the back door. Jones timidly stepped out onto the patio, darting back inside at the slightest gust of wind. Then he tried the grass, tentatively putting one paw out, then another and another, all the while keeping an eye on the open door behind him. Finally he saw a chipmunk. We could almost hear his tiny mind working as he sorted back past the teachings in his brain to where the instincts were hidden. Suddenly he crouched, pupils dilated, and then he sprang! The chipmunk was used to avoiding cats, and Jones was no match at all. As the chipmunk flashed past, Jones stared in amazement.

Peter chortled. “What kind of cat is that? He can’t even catch a chipmunk!” Peter sat down to watch, intrigued by the entertainment. This went on for several days: the chipmunk flashing past, Jones looking dumbfounded. Then one day things changed. A well-aimed pounce and Jones grabbed his prey by the butt. There was the chipmunk hanging upside down, eyes frozen in terror. Jones trotted over to me, proudly showing off his treasure.

Then reality dawned as Jones, his belly full of gourmet cat food, thought to himself: “What do I do with this thing now?” At the same time, Peter and I began yelling at him. Finally, unable to come up with any other plan, he dropped it. The chipmunk shot into the forest, teeth marks in his butt. But early the next morning there was Jones, pawing at the back door, eager to go outside again and hunt. Apparently Jones had decided that living in the country was going to be OK.

Unfortunately Jones grew old in the country, and he passed away before Peter and I moved back to the city. But I think he would have been happy here – chasing the chipmunks and squirrels that visit us, annoying Agnes’s pet mice, and making friends with Minou, the neighbours’ cat. There would be lots in the city to keep him busy – just like us!

Sue

When Peter and I moved from the country to the city, we chose a house that was in move-in condition. No renovations or repairs for us; we wanted a stress-free life. Or at least that’s what we planned…

One thing we loved about our new house was the kitchen – newish and modern, lots of space, black and white granite counter tops, and high-end stainless steel appliances; the perfect place for 2 people who love to cook. Things were OK for a while, but then the kitchen started falling apart. First the upper rack on the dishwasher began coming off its tracks if we pulled it out too far. We called Kitchen-Aid and, much to our surprise, the agent told us it was a recall product and would be replaced for free! We gladly welcomed the repair person and the free fix.

Next, the fridge began leaking. Peter, anxious for another free fix, was only too happy to call Kitchen-Aid again. But this time – no luck. In fact the repairman was in our kitchen for only about 15 minutes, replaced one very tiny part, and presented us with a bill for $200!

Then one morning the microwave refused to heat up. We hadn’t realized how often we use this small but mighty appliance, but at least several times a day: to heat things up, to defrost things, to make sauces and gravies, to dry out the cat…just kidding! Anyway, we know from previous experience that it is usually not worth the money to fix a microwave. So off we went to the store for a new one. We put the old one on the curb and it was gone in minutes.

At this point we were thinking: what else could break in the kitchen? Well you’re wrong – it wasn’t the stove.

We had a very nice Thanksgiving dinner with our family and we didn’t eat in the garage! Instead, we set up the basement banquet hall – almost like the olden times. We enjoyed a lovely evening together and everyone left by about 10:00 pm, full of turkey and laden with bags of leftovers. Peter and I put on our pyjamas, set the house alarm, and sat down in the living room to re-hash the evening – our first big event in almost 2 years. Then suddenly we heard a loud CRASH from the kitchen.

We rushed in and there was the sink, I mean WHERE was the sink? Well the sink, loaded up with dirty dishes and greasy water, had crashed through the counter into the cupboard below, knocking itself off the drain pipe. Apparently it had been held up by only a layer of glue, which had disintegrated. We stared in disbelief, dumbfounded. Then we started into clean-up mode: grab a bucket, slowly get the dishes out of the sink, edge the sink out of the cupboard, and start mopping up the water. Then, to add insult to injury, the dishwasher, which was running the first load of dishes, started into the drain cycle and the dirty water, with no drain to go down, poured into the cupboard too! How could this get any worse?

Well it did. I ran into the garage to get another bucket for the dirty water, and accidentally set off the house alarm. “This is the alarm company! Identify yourself immediately!! The police are on the way!!!”

“YES!” I thought. More people to help clean up!

Well we did manage to calm down the alarm company and clean up the mess ourselves. When we finished, it was after midnight – well past our bedtime. We changed out of our wet, greasy pyjamas and went to bed. But we didn’t sleep soundly; we were too busy thinking about what mischief the stove might be getting into.

Sue

We Canadians usually think of ourselves as living in an expansive country, second only to Russia, at least in terms of geography. So what would Little Canada have to offer us? Plenty.

Last Friday Peter and I ventured on the subway to the 2-month-old exhibition housed at Dundas Square, the brain child of Belgian businessman Jean-Louis Brenninkmeijer. Referred to as a Model Citizen, Brenninkmeijer came to Canada as an immigrant and fell in love with his new country. He spent about 10 years and over 24 million dollars recreating his dream home – in miniature. His goal was to “evoke a sense of wonder and curiosity about Canada.”

The first section of the display is a reproduction of Niagara Falls. The falls and the Niagara River are created through the use of lighting, and the river flows at high speeds, steering a tiny Maid Of the Mist downstream to the dock where miniature passengers are waiting to board. We are so entranced that it takes us a while to notice the tiny spider on the top deck. In the background are small versions of iconic Niagara Falls buildings: the casino, the hotels and bars, and the ferris wheel on Clifton Hill. Buses, taxis and cars make their way along the streets, and passengers line up for rides. Soon the sun must be going down because it’s now night time at the Falls. Street lights and signage all become illuminated.

It’s hard to stop looking; there are so many tiny details to take in. We wander along past the floral clock, Brock’s monument, and the little town of Niagara-On-the-Lake. Then we come to the vinyards where miniature people are sitting at tables enjoying a glass of red, and a couple of tiny but rowdy kids are stomping on grapes in a tiny barrel.

Next on our journey we arrive at the towns of the GTA. In this part of the model country, fall has arrived and the trees are all decked out in leaves of brilliant oranges and reds. We explore Stratford with a miniature Festival Theatre in the middle of a performance, and Kitchener hosting an Octoberfest parade. We come across a Tim Horton’s outlet, with a small plaque explaining that this represents the very first Tim’s, built in 1964 in Hamilton. These plaques appear throughout the display, giving us added facts and details.

Then we make our way downstairs to the next display – Toronto. We begin at a TTC office building, with a space ship on the roof. Clearly Brenninkmeijer has a sense of humour! All the landmarks are here too: the CN Tower with its outdoor elevator and changing illumination, Union Station surrounded by taxis and buses and a GO train rumbling past in the background. We take in the Rogers Centre where the Blue Jays song plays every few minutes and the tiny jumbotron shows José Bautista hitting a home run. And to make the scene truly realistic, there are traffic jams at every intersection.

In yet another room we visit Ottawa. The Parliament Buildings are the highlight, and every 15 minutes a Canada Day celebration is held, with Oh Canada playing, tiny people waving flags and clapping, and a spectacularly small fireworks display at the end.

In Ottawa we also see the Rideau Canal, a beautiful tulip garden in bloom, and the Chateau Laurier Hotel. Peter becomes agitated. “That’s where we had our first dance!” he reminds me, in a voice loud enough for everyone to hear. A guide rushes over with an idea: why don’t we have our picture taken in a dance pose, and then artists will create a miniature version of us dancing, which can be placed in the display?

Of course there is a cost for the “little-izing” service. But the idea is intriguing. We can be immortalized in this display! So, when you decide to visit this amazing exhibition, look for the piano at the Chateau Laurier Hotel and you just might see us, in miniature of course.

Sue

Do you remember what you were doing when the Toronto Raptors won the NBA Basketball championship in 2019? Of course you do!

Major sports events grab our attention, give us something to hope for, and pull us together. You probably remember as far back as 1972 when Team Canada played Russia in hockey and Paul Henderson scored the winning goal. I was teaching in a high school then, and we packed all the kids into the school auditorium so everybody could see the game. You could hear a pin drop. Nobody, not one kid, misbehaved – because nobody wanted to get kicked out of the auditorium and miss all the fun. Not until the final goal, when all hell broke loose, all over the country: an unlikely Canadian team had beaten the bad guys. WOW.

Or remember the Blue Jays winning the World Series back in 1992 and 1993? Even though there were only 2 countries in the “World” Series, it was still exciting to defeat our arrogant neighbours to the south. And this year the Jays have been at it again. It’s been a year of change for them; first playing their home games in their winter home, Dunedin Florida, then using the minor league field in Buffalo, and finally roaring back to the Rogers Centre in August. Crowds have increased as restrictions allowed. First there were hundreds of spectators, then 15,000, and finally 30,000. Gradually fans dared to buy tickets, don their masks, locate their vaccination proof, and ride the subway to the game.

It’s been a year of firsts for the players too. So many of them are so young! Take superstar Vladdy Guerrero, at only 22 scoring the most home runs in the entire league. Or that cute Bo Bichette, age 23, whose dad works for the Jays as a coach while keeping an eye on his son. Or Adam Cimber, an old-timer at 31, who joined the Jays this year. He wears at least size 16 shoes that fly erratically around in circles as he throws pitches in what is called the “submarine” style.

Peter and I were lucky to get tickets to what would be the Jays’ last game of the season. We arrived early so we could soak up every exciting moment. We watched some players warm up, and we enjoyed the antics of mascot B J Birdie. The first inning got us gong in fine style: our pitcher struck out the other team with only 9 pitches – 3 strike-outs in a row. And then our first batter got a home-run! The players continued to amaze their audience, racking up 12 runs to the other team’s 4. We won handily.

Meanwhile, the electronic scoreboards kept tabs on the other contenders for the last two wild card spots which would get our Jays into the playoffs. Our eyes darted from the scoreboard to the field and back to the scoreboard. We had our nachos and beer to keep us company as we cheered for the Jays and booed the electronic contenders. Cheer…boo…cheer…boo… We were hardly even distracted by the young couple in front of us, falling all over each other, ignoring baseball completely.

In the end, the other top teams won their games too, which meant that, while the Jays won their last game, they lost out on a playoff spot. But it was a great summer, and they gave us lots to cheer about, during the 4th wave of a pandemic that is hanging around far longer than anyone expected. Thank you, Blue Jays!

Sue

One of the big reasons that Peter and I moved to the city was so that we could access public transit. After settling into our new home, we rode the subway and the GO train everywhere, wile our cars sat lonely and gas-filled in the garage. All that changed 18 months ago, when the pandemic forced our mode of transportation towards running shoes instead.

But our hearts remained with the TTC, and we were pleased to climb aboard to go downtown again last week. There are signs about mask-wearing and reserved seating everywhere, but otherwise not much has changed. There are the usual passengers: street people carrying bottles and cans to exchange at a recycling depot for extra change, business people dressed in suits and working on their phones, nannies cuddling babies and headed to a playground somewhere, students with their noses in books. But everyone is spread out and looking a little nervous.

There is a lot more that hasn’t changed. The same female tells us in her calming voice: “The next station is St. George. St. George Station. Change here for line 2.” There is the same graffiti on the walls near the Keele Station, and the same squeaks as you go around the corner into Old Mill. There are fewer ads above the seats, but some of them are still eye-catching, like the one from Ripley’s Aquarium reminding us that “the octopus can hunt with spine-crushing strength but still can’t grasp climate change.”

One thing we discovered while riding the subway is that this fall marks the 100th anniversary of the TTC. If you go to the website: ttc.ca/ttc100 you can learn a lot of its history, posted decade by decade. In the 1920’s for example, there are pictures of the first buses on the first route in the Junction:

In the 1940’s, due to the number of men fighting in WWII, women were hired for the first time as conductors, maintenance workers, even drivers:

In 1954 the Yonge Subway line opened between Union Station and Eglinton. People thronged to the stations to be the first to ride this new mode of transportation:

In the 1960’s subway cars were re-designed and the University line was opened:

In the 1980’s articulated buses were added and Pope John Paul came to visit:

And in the 2000’s he came back! Guess he enjoyed the ride:

To celebrate the anniversary, there are photographic displays at 12 stations. At the Bay Station you can view station concepts by local artists, or at the Finch Station you can learn about electrifying the system. At the Kennedy Station you can study Scarboro rapid transit. When you are finished visiting all those stations, you can put your feet up and shop at the TTC online store. Masks, T-shirts, books, posters, train sets, even doggie bandanas can be purchased, just in time for Christmas!

One thing that has changed for Peter and me is the 60-step staircase from the parking lot to our station. Hard to believe but it has grown! it used to be pretty short – one brief stop to catch our breath part-way up. Now it requires at least 3 breath-catches to get to the top. That must have happened when nobody was looking. Certainly it couldn’t be us at almost 2 years older, could it?

Sue

I promise you that this is not a political blog. OK I admit it – once I wrote a post about Donald Trump. Sorry; I couldn’t help myself!

But this time I’m writing After the election, so you know that there will be no attempt to “get out your vote” as they say in the business; which means going to your home very early on election day and getting you out of bed just to let you know that we can drive you to your polling station if you want. We try not to mention that you are wearing your pink bunny slippers or your pj’s with Superman on the chest.

Peter and I campaigned for our local candidate whom we know and like. We helped him out last time too, in 2019, but this time was different. The lead-up to the election was very short, only 36 days, which meant that we were always running to finish our polls in time. We seemed to be always placed with a young group leader, and he could really run fast! We had to keep up with him so we could give him our “data.” Data means that the leader wants to know who will definitely vote for our party, who would rather eat hot peppers than vote for our party, and who was undecided. This last group was our main target. Grab ’em and talk. Talk till their eyes glaze over. If we don’t get anywhere, then pass on their house number so somebody else can have a go at them.

Furthermore most days were very hot. We were sweating as we ran and we had to stop often to fill up with water. A couple of times we were canvassing close to Lake Ontario and it was so inviting that Peter had to drag me away. Sometimes we passed a local bar that was inviting too. But we had our orders – no bar-hopping, no pretending that there were potential voters inside.

But this year the thing that was most different was the anger we found at some homes. A lot of people were upset that an election was called during the pandemic. Some people were concerned that earlier election promises had not been kept. But there were a few people who were just plain rude. Since I was a school principal in my former life, I am no stranger to the “F” word coming out of the mouths of bratty kids. But a couple of adult homeowners very pointedly told me to “get the F off” their property. One woman even told me to “get the F off” her neighbour’s property too!

After several weeks of running, sweating and being sworn at, we could see the election day around the corner. Last time on election day we were scrutineers. This means that you go to the polling station, sign your life away on several forms, and then stare over people’s shoulders to make sure that nobody is voting twice or doing anything else illegal. It’s a thankless job. But this year we got a promotion! We got to be a Home Centre.

At first I wasn’t sure what this entailed. It definitely meant that a lot of people would be coming to our house to collect lists and then travel around our neighbourhood waking other people up to see their pyjamas. Did I have enough time to make muffins and sandwiches for everyone? Was the bathroom floor clean? Did I need to paint the living room red? Peter thought that last one was way too much.

Yesterday we woke up at 6:00 am to get the coffee on. The workers arrived at 8:00 and were at our house all day until 9:30 pm when the polls closed. It was a very long day. But nobody mentioned the bathroom floor or the beige living room. And this morning it was all worth it – our candidate won!

Sue

It’s been quite a while since I’ve updated you on the doings of Missy and Sissy. You may recall that we are babysitting Agnes’s pet mice while Agnes and her parents are in New Zealand. The mice have had a few adventures lately that you are just dying to read about. Right?

One day when Agnes was facetiming us from New Zealand, she noticed that Sissy’s nose was a little red. I got very upset at this news because I didn’t want to get fired. So I went to the ultimate website for mouse-sitters: Emmiology. Emmi is a mouse expert. She suggested that a red nose might be due to the bedding in the cage. Since I had just changed the bedding to a new bag, I became suspicious. I rushed to the pet store for a second new bag. Success. The red nose gradually turned pink and then the fur grew back. Sissy was saved!

Another day, Canada Day to be exact, the neighbourhood fireworks scared Missy into a frenzy. She climbed up onto the lid of the cage and I didn’t see her there when I took the lid off the cage to add some food. Poor Missy was hanging in thin air! I transported her very carefully back into the cage where she climbed off the lid and into a corner. Missy was saved too! So I am happy to report that, after 6 months, the mice are alive and well and heading into middle age. I am proud of myself for being such a successful caregiver.

And Agnes? She might have moved on to bigger things. Like lambs. As you may know, New Zealand has more sheep and lambs than people. And Agnes has cousins there whose family owns a hobby farm. She recently texted us a photo of herself bottle-feeding a baby lamb. She looks pretty excited! Could she be thinking that pet mice are a tad over-rated?

Furthermore Peter may have different plans for me as well. Last week he invited me to a workshop on composting. It sounded very scientific and worthwhile so I said yes. We arrived at the workshop to find a classroom full of little kids. Their faces were lit up with anticipation as the instructor announced that using worms in your garden helps speed up the composting process. The kids couldn’t wait to see the worms.

At the end of the workshop everyone was given a container of free worms! Peter was so excited he could hardly contain himself. As we got into the car, he deposited the worms in my lap with strict instructions to look after them and not to let any escape. I checked the container carefully for holes and then, when Peter wasn’t looking, I tossed the container into the back seat. No babysitting worms in my future, thank you very much. When we got home, Peter left the container on the kitchen counter while he went to change his clothes. Really? Worms on the kitchen counter?? How much is a caregiver supposed to put up with?

Well I am happy to report that the worms have disappeared into the outdoor compost bin and haven’t been seen since. I have gone back to taking care of Missy and Sissy. And as for Agnes, she still seems to like the lambs….a lot.

Sue

Sorry no photos: the worms are deep in the composter, the lambs have scampered off, and the mice are sleeping.

When we celebrate this weekend we seldom think about the workers who went on strike back in 1872, fighting for a 9-hour work day and a 54-hour work week. This strike eventually led to the first Labour Day parade in 1894, honouring workers’ rights.

Now that workers in Canada enjoy a 40-hour work week, Labour Day has changed focus – it’s a whole weekend and it marks the end of summer. It has nothing to do with labour, unless you count packing suitcases and lugging steaks and beer up to your cottage. People from all walks of life and all age groups make their trip to “the cottage.” You can see the cars and vans beginning their exodus as early as Thursday afternoon, loaded up with food, kayaks, and alcohol. They head north to Muskoka or east to Haliburton, stopping along the way for lunch at their favourite burger joint or for some butter tarts at their go-to bakery. They return to the city on Monday; sun-burned, waterlogged, and sleepy.

During my lifetime I have owned a couple of cottages. One had propane lights, an outhouse, and a hand pump in the kitchen for washing dishes. The other one had two bathooms and a dishwasher. Both fulfilled the same purpose: get out of town and into nature. But we also know that cottage weekends are a lot of work, packing and unpacking, and dealing with traffic jams on all the major highways. Staying in the city is not such a bad option! Here’s what we did this year instead:

On the first day we attended our annual family Tomato Day, a very Italian tradition where the family gathers to preserve tomatoes that will be used in pasta sauce for the entire year. There are also a few games, such as squeezing tomato seeds at each other. Our job this year was to buy the tomatoes and provide some of the equipment including jars and sealing lids. Well this year the lids were elusive. It seems that everyone in Toronto has moved from the gardening craze to the canning craze – tomatoes, pickled beets, jams, you name it! Between Peter and me, we figure we searched about 14 stores before we had cobbled together enough lids. The rest of the day went very smoothly.

On the next day, we went for our last swim at our local outdoor pool. This pool has been a haven for us during this hot summer. It’s just a short walk down the street to a huge heated pool with no crowds. We spent many happy hours there cooling off and getting some exercise, and our last swim was no different. Peter and I had the entire deep end to ourselves, and we could hear the kids in the shallow end screaming with delight as they cannonballed into the water, only occasionally stopping in a corner to talk about school.

Then we decided that part of the weekend had to recognize the quintessential Labour Day weekend activity – the CNE! Since the only part of the CNE that was available this year was the air show, we walked down to the lake, sat on a rock at the mouth of the Humber River, and watched the planes as they swooped and dove in various formations. We were not alone. There were pedestrians lined up along the Humber Bridge, bikers of all ages in droves, and boaters. I counted at least 50 kayaks, canoes, motor boats, sailboats, paddle boards, pontoon boats, and sea-doos, their owners taking in the show overhead.

Our final tribute to Labour Day was a BBQ outside with grilled meat and corn on the cob. And a glass of wine to toast the end of a pretty good summer, all around.

Sue

So far I haven’t really found one, and time is running out!

Fountains are attractions the world over. You may have been to some; for example the romantic Trevi fountain in Rome where you throw a coin over your shoulder and wish for a return visit tote Eternal City where you are sure to find love. Or maybe, after all your money has been gambled away, you have visited the musical fountain at the Bellagio Hotel in Las Vegas. Or perhaps you have taken a trip to the opulent palace in Versailles and seen the Latona fountain where even the lizards and frogs are gold.

In Toronto I have discovered several fountains that are noteworthy, even if not life-altering. Many act as meeting places, like the one on Centre Island where people gather after a day of exploration, and then walk together to the ferry for the ride home. Or back in the olden days when the CNE was running, people met at the fountain near the Better Living Centre to share stories of the deep-fried chocolate bars, or crispy crickets that they had eaten in the Food Building.

In Toronto I have a few favourites. I love the peaceful little park in the middle of Yorkville, where shoppers can take a break to rest on that huge piece of Canadian Shield granite believed to be over one billion years old. Once comfortably seated, visitors can gaze at the rain curtain, a steady wall of water falling in strings. On a hot day, it’s a cool respite as shoppers contemplate whether to splurge $300 on that glitzy pair of shoes they just saw in an upscale store.

Then there is the Salmon Run, completed in 1991 and located in front of the Rogers Centre. The sculpture is intended to “inspire hope for the ecological well-being of an area now dominated by human traffic.” The salmon look quite life-like as they leap into the… Oops – right now the fountain is dry. Is that a reflection of a backlog of municipal chores? Or is it another sign that our rivers and lakes are beginning to dry up as the earth warms? Either way, the salmon look desperate, suspended in mid-air.

One other park with a water feature is getting a lot of advance publicity these days. Cloud Garden and Conservatory, in the centre of the financial district, consists of a two-level greenhouse with temperatures set to replicate the conditions of a rain forest. It includes tropical plants, and a 5-storey waterfall with a reflecting pool at the bottom. A series of interconnecting ramps and bridges allows visitors to walk vertically through the gardens. The park which won a Governor General’s award, is currently closed for renovations. It is set to re-open in 2023, and will be a welcome addition to the financial district.

But my favourite is the newish fountain at Berczy Park, built in 2017 when the park was being re-designed. This fountain, on Front Street across from the St. Lawrence Centre, features 27 dogs all salivating streams of water as they stare up at a huge gold bone overhead. Kids love this fountain with the water and the dogs. I get a real thrill watching them giggle as they run through the spray and hug the puppies. It makes me feel young again – kind of like a Fountain of Youth!

Sue

PS If you have a favourite public fountain, share it with other readers.

When Peter and I were considering our move from the country to the city, we spent a lot of time trying to decide: condo or house?

Choosing a condo meant we were looking towards the future when we would want less maintenance, fewer stairs, and a simpler lifestyle. Choosing a small house instead meant we would be living in the present when we still have mobility and energy for planting a garden and hosting parties. (Choosing a house with a double garage also meat we could host parties during covid! But I digress..)

Now that we are settled into our small house, we do still have the energy for gardening and parties, but do we have enough for all the other maintenance? Hmmm… Peter started the ball rolling last week when he asked me: “Honey, did you, by any chance, plant flowers in the eaves troughs?” Apparently little shoots were poking up along the edge of the roof. Since we were planning a party for his relatives, this was an important question. He said the cousins might notice. It would be worse than dirty toilets, according to him.

So he got out the ladder, extended it to its full height, and began his climb. He asked me to stand by in case he needed anything, for example, could I sit on the bottom rung of the ladder to steady it in case he began to sway? Slowly he climbed up, holding a bucket for leaves in one hand, and using the other to climb, as the ladder wobbled under his weight. When he arrived at the troughs and began emptying them, a shower of debris, leaves and dirt missed the bucket and rained down on me. Apparently I should have had my umbrella with me! Fortunately I did have my phone, ready to call 911 in case the swaying got out of control or I got bumped on the head by the bucket.

After an entire afternoon of moving the ladder around the 4 sides of the house, Peter declared the eaves troughs clean enough for even the fussiest of relatives. The only thing left to do, he said, was… wash the windows! Well I was not anxious to do the ladder routine again, I can tell you. But Peter insisted that we aren’t too old to take this on, and I am more than anxious for an opportunity to show off my youth. Such vanity.

We were still debating about how to tackle this mammoth job, when a family member came to the rescue with a new product for us to try: an outdoor Windex product that attaches to the garden hose. Three steps – rinse, suds, and rinse again. No ladder required! And another great feature for a day of 30+ temperatures: we could wear our bathing suits and hose each other down too. I was so excited I could hardly sleep the night before. I woke up in the morning, grabbing only a quick coffee before heading to the nearest CTC. And there it was, in aisle 79 – the very last bottle of this miracle!

We easily got into our routine: Peter using the hose outside while standing on the ground, and me cleaning the windows on the inside, using only a chair. Easy peasy. Bird poop and mud splatts gone! Now I’d love to give you, dear readers, a dramatic ending: a window broke or we had a water fight, or some other exciting climax. But, aside from a couple of small leaks, there was nothing left except clean windows.

Now I m waiting with baited breath for Peter to announce our next home maintenance project. He’s sure to have another fun idea. As he thinks about it, here’s one: maybe we could paint the inside of the garage so we don’t have to put up those tacky plastic sheets the next time we have a party. Yikes! What am I saying? Surely the pandemic will be gone by the next holiday season. Won’t it?

Sue