The Big Cat Update, Fall 2025

 So, it's become that time of the year where I update you all on the state of the household and the cats, because they're a huge part of my life but also because a lot of the things I write here tends to revolve around them in one way or another. And, to be fair, there are a decent amount of updates to share. So, let's go from the oldest to the youngest, in order...

Pete, age 18.5, male:

Pete is doing well for his age and for his health conditions. Earlier this year we confirmed that he is now in stage 3 of kidney failure, which means 6-18 months to live, max. Maggie was diagnosed with the same in late 2022 and died in early 2024, so that seems pretty accurate. We know that old Pete's time with us is limited and that he will likely have far more bad days than good for the remainder of his life. Despite that, we're giving him IV fluids every week, we're getting him checked every few months with bloodwork, and at his vet visit yesterday he had gained half a pound over the course of the past six weeks or so (he's 9.5 pounds now). He's doing well. He is, of course, slowing down a bit more by the day/week. He no longer comes upstairs to sleep with me every single day (it's only about half the time now) but he does seem very content in his life most of the time -- he gets attention from me and Daisy whenever he wants it, he gets nearly unlimited office time with me on my ottoman, and all of the younger cats adore him, he is the godfather/grandfather of the household, and he really seems to enjoy that role. But, I do watch him age more and more, and get more frail by the month. I know his time is coming. I know it's likely not too far off. I think back to Sadie -- my little old lady who was fine, just frail and tired a lot, until she wasn't just frail and tired but actively dying. So, seeing Pete age is bittersweet. He's still the same Pete he's always been, but toned down so much more now that he's in his end-of-life era. He could go at any time. I'm ready for it, but I don't want it.

Hank, age 2.5, male:

Hank's eye has become substantially worse. There are days where it looks better, and days where it looks terrible. At his vet visit yesterday, our vet admitted what we knew -- the treatment for his eye had not really done anything whatsoever to help out, and we got a referral to a cat ophthalmologist for a second look as Hank's treatment is now officially outside of our vet's expertise. He may be a candidate for what they call a "burr scraping," which would be basically what it sounds like -- getting the scarring/scabbing scraped off his eyeball to see if it can heal and to see if it restores his vision in that eye. Our vet doesn't think he's lost vision in the bad eye, but he does very much have a large blind spot there because of the scarring. There are various procedures that we could put Hank through to try to return him to normal and/or not risk losing his eye, but at this juncture we don't know what he's a candidate for versus what he's not. We'll get a consultation sometime between now and when we leave for Canada, hopefully. 

Other than that, Hank is fine; his eye doesn't really seem to bother his day-to-day life -- he is still as playful as ever, he still loves the boys and Emmy and playing and food, as well as getting love from both Daisy and me. He also hasn't had any more asthma episodes like he did when he was a kitten, and while he has an enlarged heart, when he's been into the vet they say he's normal, no murmurs, nothing out of the ordinary. He's a sweet boy. He's also the most dominant cat in the house, by far -- he needs everyone to know that he's in charge, that he's the king-in-waiting, and at this juncture the other housecats know this as well to varying degrees. He especially goes hard on Gary, our youngest, in attempts to show his dominant ways. He generally leaves Pete alone though, though he will cuddle up and sleep with him on occasion. Hank is the heaviest cat in the house, at 15.5 pounds. Our vet expects him to continue getting bigger; he is not unhealthy -- not fat at all, it's all muscle -- the vet actually said "he may just be one of those cats who gets to be absolutely giant." But, I can tell you, lifting Hank is like lifting a sack of bricks. He's a big boy. More than anything else though, he is a big ball of fur and love. I just want him to be a big ball of fur and love who can see out of both eyes.

Empress, age 1.8, female:

Emmy is the least-lovey cat in the house. And I don't say that as an insult to her, it's just that she has a very standoffish personality and only wants love on her terms. Daisy has been trying to train her to accept human touch more and more by the day/week, and it's slowly helping -- but ironically, my "dream kitty" is anything but the big floofy teddy bear cat I expected her to be. 

Emmy's terms for love seem to be on a whim, or when nobody else is around or awake -- it's then that she becomes my little babydoll and wants all the love and attention, wanting to play fetch or roll around on my feet or get tummy rubs. I've been trying to acclimate her more to my office too, so that she realizes it can be a safe space for her. This is helping too, I think. What's not helping is her rivalry and tempestuous relationship with Mable, who goes after her every chance she can get. She and Mable do not get along at all. They can be in the same room together and occupy the same space together, but that's about where it ends -- there is no love between them. She does remain Hank's lover, though she spends just as much time now cuddling up with Pete. Pete is her safe space and boy does she adore the old man -- and I'm pretty sure the feeling is mutual. Her presence and companionship greatly calms and relaxes him. 

Health-wise, Emmy is fine; we were told upon her last vet visit that she is perfectly healthy, has a really healthy coat and teeth, and she weighed just shy of fifteen pounds -- she is the largest cat in size in the house, but has now been replaced by Hank as the heaviest. She has a voracious appetite and will eat almost anything, she meticulously grooms herself, and she is the prissiest, most Diva-like cat I've ever seen, yet with an attitude so much like Sadie, if she hadn't grown up with her I would say she was Sadie reincarnated. She is my beautiful girl and I am not ashamed to admit that she is my favorite cat we own.

Mable, age 1.5, female:

Mable has completely recovered from her femoral head removal surgery and honestly, at this point you wouldn't even know she'd had it. She is rambunctious, she is a screamer, she is a curtain-and-screen-door-climber, and she is the black goblin, as I refer to her. We will have her surgery paid off by the end of the year, thankfully. Mable is one of the most active cats in the house -- she loves to run and play with the boys, and she splits her time between me and Daisy pretty equally. However, I can tell since the surgery that she is more cautious in her play -- she doesn't go anywhere near as hard as she used to, and she knows when to stop. She has claimed the upstairs of the house as her territory, will chase Emmy downstairs if she dares come upstairs to invade that territory, and when she's upstairs and we're not, she will sit on the bedroom floor and wail because we're not up there with her. 

I love Mable very much, and she loves me -- but she worships Daisy. Daisy is her person. She wakes Daisy up every morning for love, and if she doesn't succeed in getting that love, will proceed to knock things over and/or attempt to destroy things in the bedroom until she wakes Daisy up and gets the love and attention she craves. When I come to bed for the day, she will come up on the bed, stand on Daisy's back, and cry at her for attention. My love and attention will usually suffice, and she will flop between our pillows to rest. She usually only wants the cuddles and hugs from Daisy; I can pick her up and love her and she accepts it, she doesn't fight me, but she does not proactively climb up on me and lay down or sit on me like she does with Daisy -- she is a mama's girl to the core. She is absolutely a little goblin, though, and I still adore her.

She does love her time in my office with me, whether there are any other cats in here or not -- she especially loves flopping out on the ottoman with Pete, using him as a pillow and/or a teddy bear. Her relationship with Pete is very cute. He would baby her as a kitten and she still craves that to this day; however, she is not a kitten anymore and is actually now larger than Pete, so when she lays on top of him it can and frequently does make him uncomfortable. He accepts it though; I know he realizes Mable is just trying to love him. Frequently these days I will find her sleeping with me in bed when I wake up in the afternoon, whether Pete is there with me or not, so she does have some love for me. I wonder how her dynamic with us will change once Pete is gone, as it's clear she sees him as a father figure. Mable is such a solitary cat, though -- likely the most solitary/independent cat in the house.

Mable is healthy but is forever destined, we think, to be a smaller cat in weight and size; her mother was also a very small cat. Mable is 11.5 pounds and just slightly larger than Pete and Charlie. She also has short legs like Hank, giving her the look of a dachshund cat. She really hasn't gotten much bigger over the course of the past year or so and at this juncture, I really don't expect her to get any larger. She may get fatter, but I doubt she'll gain any significant size in any more growth spurts. Otherwise, from all of her vet visits we've had, she is very healthy with zero known issues now that her hip is fixed. 

Charles, age 9mo., male:

What a wonderful little boy.

Charlie is absolutely the wildest, most inquisitive, and most loving cat in the house (aside from Pete, but I think his love exceeds even Pete's sometimes). Charlie is boundless energy, Charlie has immense intelligence and a knack for being a troublemaker, and he loves both of us (and everyone else) so very intensely. This is a cat who knows he hit the jackpot with this household. He loves to run and play with Gary, for hours. He loves to play with Mable. He is the only cat in the house who can really get Emmy to actually play with him. He bonded very strongly with Mable when he was just a baby, but they both sort of grew out of that -- he is now bonded very much with the other boys -- Pete, Hank, and Gary -- and he absolutely adores loving on them and being loved by them. I originally got Charlie so that Hank and Emmy could have a little son, and I am proud to say that's what he became. Hank really loves the little white boy, and will make over him incessantly. Pete loves him too. And, to Gary, he's the big brother he can get in trouble with. 

Charlie is mostly healthy. He has allergies (he's an itchy boy, and has dug hot spots on himself a few times) and he can be sneezy/wheezy, he pants like a dog when he runs/plays too hard, etc. Otherwise he seems absolutely healthy and is very active. He eats a wild amount of food and treats to fuel his energy, and he's a mama's boy at heart (I mean, look at the above picture). He is roughly 12 pounds, I'm guessing -- heavier than Mable but not by a lot. It's mostly muscle on him, too. Recently he's gone through a growth spurt and he's getting bigger by the month, by the way it seems. The vets think he's going to end up being a very big boy -- something I found wild because he was one of the smallest kittens we'd brought home. His giant blue eyes are captivating and so very expressive. Daisy adores Charlie; she had dreams about him before we adopted him, and I chose him for his very Hank-like personality and Hank-like kitten energy; what we got was that, as well as the smartest cat I've seen since Pete. Charlie was adopted a few weeks after Sadie died, and wasn't really her "replacement," (I was originally looking for another little girl, and wanted the fluffy orange girl I saw that day, who I would've named "Tilly") but he stood out and I almost immediately fell in love with him, just as much as Daisy did. We couldn't take them both, so I chose Charlie -- the little flame-point man with giant ice-blue eyes.

We don't know if Charlie is going to "toast up" more or not as he gets older. He was almost completely white when we adopted him, with the exception of his little face markings and a bit of color on his ears and tail. He has since started to get a little more toasty as he's gotten older, but he's not even a year old yet and it can take a few years for flame points to really solidify their coats. I look forward to many fun years with this little man as he is so very Pete like in his love language and mannerisms. 

Gary, age 8mo., male:

The namesake of Daisy's father is, as I've said many times, the perfect little kitten.  I've written about Gary here at length, of course; he has had his health issues and he had to be sequestered far longer than any of the other kittens we adopted. However, as he has grown and acclimated to the house, he has become a wonderful little cat -- and I don't say that lightly. He is so even-tempered, so curious and explorative (everything is new, exciting, and a wonder to him) and he is such a sweet boy. This is the cat who curls up with us very day to sleep, who lays on my desk with me and doesn't want us out of his sight. This is the cat who loves Pete, Charlie, and Hank so fiercely and would never hurt anyone or anything (except maybe for gnats or flies). He is so wonderfully cuddly, loves to be held, loves the tummy and chin rubs, and is a voracious eater of dry food and treats. This is the cat that loves water so much he will get into the shower with Daisy and will waterboard himself at the drinking fountain or sink. 

Gary, while once pretty sickly, is mostly okay now. He will occasionally still have diarrhea or awful kitten farts, but he otherwise appears to be really healthy. I do think his growth was somewhat stunted due to malnutrition when he was younger, and he is very much a smaller cat -- maybe 6-7 pounds max right now. He is slowly growing through, and he is indeed less than a year old; he doesn't turn a year old until January, so he has some room and time to grow. He also has the highest percentage of Maine Coon in his genetics than anyone else in the house, so I expect him to get much bigger -- it just may take a bit longer. He does share the same boundless energy Charlie has (I lovingly call them "the double trouble boys") and he has the sweetest innocence in his demeanor, curiosity about everything. He is very much a child and acts like a toddler -- incessantly exploratory, pushes boundaries, gets into everything, nips on fingers and toes, etc. But, unlike some other cats I've known, Gary does not have a mean bone in his body. He is an incredibly loving little goblin. He just wants to love and be loved. I don't think this little boy knows the concept of being mean or spiteful; every day he seems to just be enamored with living life.  

That's part of why I love him so very much -- he is very nearly a perfect kitten. And even though he's coming up on being a year old here in a few months, he is still very much a kitten, still very young and learning new things every day. Gary bonded with me hard (as I did with him). That day in the shelter when I picked him up and he sunk happily into my arms, looking up at me like "so you're my dad now," did it for me. He rarely wants to leave my side unless he's sleeping or spending time with Charlie. He'll lay with me all night on my desk while I'm working, he'll sleep with me and Daisy at our heads between the pillows or against my back/hip/shoulder. He's the first that that comes running to greet me/us when we come back from being out of the house, and wants to be in my office with me at almost all times almost as much (and sometimes more) than Pete does. He loves his food and he loves his treats, but he will not eat wet food -- much like Hank. He is cuddly, he loves to be held and babied and made over.  

That, in a nutshell, is my boy. I could share hundreds of photos of him here, because I really do have hundreds of photos of him. He really gives off those "lifelong companion" vibes like Pete did. I get the sense that once Pete is gone, Charlie and Mable will be Daisy's lifelong companions and Gary will be mine. I'd say Empress too, but we're still working on getting her there.

Soooo...yeah, that's the big cat update for the year. Everyone is fine. Everyone is thriving (to the best of their abilities). I love my kids, each and every one of them. I would not be who I am today without them.

Summer is (NOT) Over

The high temperature today is supposed to be 93. Tomorrow, it's supposed to be 96.

Sunday, there's the possibility of severe storms in the area. 

It's clear that summer is not completely over yet, but it feels like we're in its death throes. 

The Columbia fleece hoodies arrived, and they're marvelous. They fit wonderfully and are currently being given a quick wash and dry before the cream/fawn colored one is stuffed into my suitcase to take with me to Canada as an extra jacket to wear. I tried to order a second blue one for my mother for Christmas, and it let me order it, only to tell me two days later I was getting a refund because it was out of stock, sorry. 

I don't think I'll stuff the rain jacket into the suitcase, though -- ironic, as I originally bought it specifically for Canada. No, I think the fleeces will be fine as they're basically waterproof anyway. Well, mostly. You know what I mean if you've ever had polar fleece clothing. 

In other news, but also related, I have pared down and edited the suitcase some more.

This is the blurb from Daisy's cousin about the wedding, venue, and attire:

Casual and comfy? Bonfire? Cool. Normal pants and jacket it is, I'm ditching the fancy slacks and blazer (that I myself got married in) and will now only pack the most comfortable clothing possible for the entirety of the Canadian trip.  

Weather pending indeed -- I am a little skeptical there. October is the perfect time for a bonfire of course, given that it's not pouring rain or snowing (because, Atlantic Canada). "Short and sweet" I like. I've been to weddings that seem to drag on forever for no real reason, and I've gone to short/casual weddings that have been fun and have been fairly intimate little ceremonies. I like the latter far more. My own wedding was somewhere in the middle of the two. 

The venue is east of Halifax by some distance; maybe twenty miles or so. It appears to be on a cove just north of one of the more scenic harbours in the region. Of course, at 5:30pm in October, it will be getting dark -- but not too dark, of course. I really like the setting of the wedding and have looked at some photos of the venue, which is but a few miles away from where the bride's mother and father (Daisy's aunt and uncle) live. It's nice. Rustic and rural (the building itself looks to be an old barn rebuilt/repurposed into a B&B type of place) but very nicely modernized and surrounded by forest and water. 

Daisy is full of dread about the trip -- about the time off work, the time out of state/country, the money we spent on it, and leaving the cats behind once again as Pete gets ever older and more feeble. 

"It's a week without Pete at the end of his life that I can't ever get back," she told me. And, of course, she's right. But Pete is going to go, eventually, whether we're here that week or not. Like I knew with Sadie, it's coming. It may not be coming in the immediate, but it's still coming, and likely sooner than we think. Our cats seem to die in January -- it's not like it's planned, it's just how it's happened -- and I think Pete has at least that long left, if not more. 

I myself am very much looking forward to the trip, as all of you know. I relish any opportunity I can get to go to Canada for the Canadiana of it all. And the money/time isn't a huge concern for me on this trip; I can travel light and eat light most of the time (with the exception of the poutines and Tim Hortons I will consume while there) and I already have enough cash socked away for incidentals, with more coming (I'll get to this below). I'll have a new book, a handheld game system, my phone, my podcasts, and my music with me as well -- I will be fully entertained for the trip and I don't need much else, honestly. My job approved my PTO the day after I submitted it, my leadership knows I'll be out -- even though I still have to let my team know -- and everything's taken care of there.

Our catsitter let us know she can, indeed, work us in while we're gone that week. We're paying her a bit extra for her to be able to do so, but to me it's absolutely worth it to know that I will be able to relax more during the trip knowing that she's making sure the babies are okay. It is not a small amount we're paying her, but it is what it is -- it's probably 20% of what it would be to board the cats somewhere, so that's how I look at it. And we trust her implicitly. So, there's that, that's done. We'll just have to pay her at some point between now and then and she'll have to pick up our house keys from us again.

This will be a busy weekend for us, in the hot and sweltering weather of summer's last gasps -- tomorrow, we have a vet appointment for Pete and Hank. Pete is going in for his next checkup of thyroid bloodwork and to see if his meds need to be adjusted further, and Hank is getting his eye looked at one last time to determine whether we need to put him on any more eye drops or just discontinue their use completely (we've been weaning off them since we returned from North Carolina, at the vet's suggestion). So, that'll be an adventure. Pete doesn't mind the car, even if sometimes it can make him queasy. Hank absolutely hates the car and will cry the entire time he's in it, in the carrier, etc. He'll pout and be big mad in the vet's office too:

I will have to hold him in the carrier, on my lap on the front seat, and soothe him the entire time we're in the car to and from the vet's office, otherwise he'll howl. He'll still probably howl. It's Hank, and he has cemented himself as the orange house loaf™ who does not leave the confines of our safe, mostly-quiet home, ever. Vet visits with Hank are a bear.

Anyway, after that, in the heat, we will be taking all of my stuff over to Half-Price Books to sell it off. That's the plan, anyway -- if it's too hot or we're too tired, I'm willing to push it off by a week -- but it can't be pushed out any further than that as we'll be out of time to do it before the trip (the weekend before the trip, as we are working right up until we leave, is going to be consumed with last minute things that must be done before we leave). So, I'm willing to play it by ear. If we do have to push it out by a week at least it'll give Daisy more time to go through her stuff and find out what she wants to get rid of as well. 

Believe me, I really really want to get it done as soon as possible, but just like everything else, it's going to come down to time and energy -- and extreme heat saps almost all of my energy right out of my body -- and it'll be during a day where I generally have energy drain the longer I'm awake and mobile anyhow (Saturday). I'm great to do things very early on Saturday mornings, but my energy rapidly begins to die off from about 3pm onward. When it's extremely hot, that energy drain is far worse, and faster. The vet appointment isn't until 11:30, which means it would likely be after 1 or 2 before we could get home to even load the car with the boxes of stuff to sell. That's late for me, and that's in the throes of the hottest part of the day -- I just don't know if I can muster the energy to do it that late. If it were my choice I'd be there when they open at 10am so I could be home by noon or so.

Daisy actually offered me that option, honestly -- she was like "I can drop you off and you can do that while I take the boys to the vet" and while that was a tempting offer...it can't be done, because the space in the back seat of the car where Pete would be...would be filled with the boxes of everything I'd be selling. Not to mention that I have no idea how long it will take to go through everything I'm taking in there. If it's dead quiet, it could take twenty minutes. If it's busy, it could take two hours or more. If there's a way we could get all the stuff into the car with both the cats in there too, I'd consider it...but I really don't think there is. 

[EDIT: we have chosen not to do Half-Price Books tomorrow, instead opting for next weekend or for the Friday morning before we leave.]

Summer is Over

 It is 53 degrees in Omaha right now, September 7.

I don't even think it got above 65 on Friday, and barely passed 70 yesterday.

There is a chill in the air, a cold breeze that ruffles the curtains of my open window, with the occasional thick waft of bonfire smoke from people in the surrounding neighborhoods openly enjoying their backyards.

Summer is over. Fall is here. We're a week past Labor Day now, both the college and NFL football seasons have begun, all schools are back in session, allergies are back, I've started Christmas shopping, and the days are getting shorter. In less than a month, we fly to Canada for Daisy's cousin's wedding, something we still have to prepare heavily for. 

Daisy's grandfather's sister, who was 103, died on Friday. We went to visit her twice on two separate trips to Nova Scotia, and I took my voice recorder with me both times so we could talk to her and get those experiences recorded. The first time, it was in 2023 when Daisy and I went up to Canada alone to see family, and she was still in her home at that point in Pirate Harbour. When we returned in 2024, with Mama, she had been moved into an assisted living facility in the nearby town of Antigonish. Daisy's sister and her entire family came with us to visit her then. She was very clearly miserable in the assisted living facility and it was...not a really nice, cheerful place for her to be in, by any means. 

When we found out that she'd died, Daisy and I both had a similar reaction -- simultaneously "Oh Mama, we're so sorry" and "good." Because that old lady, as sweet as she was to us and as much as she adored Mama, was miserable and was waiting to die -- even saying it on occasion. She was not happy, she was not comfortable, she was incredibly lonely in the assisted living facility, and...well, she was 103.

With her passing, the last remaining member of Daisy's grandfather's generation on that side of the family is now gone. Mind you, the woman had kids and grandchildren (and likely some great-grandchildren at this point) but she was the last one of that generation left. This woman had a hand-signed letter from Queen Elizabeth for her 100th birthday -- she is now gone.

"People from back home have been calling me and texting me with updates," Mama said to us yesterday afternoon.

"...updates on what?" I asked. "It's not like she's going to get any more dead."

"The arrangements," Mama replied, which -- in hindsight -- I probably should have considered.

As an aside, I didn't really think about that -- if I somehow make it to 103, I absolutely don't care what they do with my body when I'm gone. It's not like I could be a viable organ donor at that point, and I would likely be far more of a burden than a blessing to anyone still in my life at that juncture. Grind me up and feed me to the fish at the aquarium for all I care. Put me in a Hefty bag and toss me out of a moving car off the bridge into the East River. 

Were she to ever go back to Nova Scotia for another trip, it would have been for this particular funeral -- but Mama is now too old and enfeebled to do long travel by plane anymore, and she has a few health conditions that make it even more unbearable for her these days. This is why she's not coming back with us next month for the wedding -- it would be far too hard on her. 

I never want to be trapped in my own body, unable to move or to travel or to even have true autonomy anymore. This woman was 60 years old when I was born; I'm sure she is at peace now that she's no longer locked into a nursing home and basically attached to a hospital bed 23 hours a day. I always said I'd be shocked if I made it to 40 -- well, I turn 43 this year. Do I need to update my prediction to 60? And if I make it to 60 and all the health issues I have now have amped up, do I want to go on past that?

These are hard questions and I don't have answers for them. 

So, I guess the funeral will go on without all of us; she'll either be cremated or buried (or both, like Daisy's grandfather was) and if we know where her grave is, we'll very likely go visit it next month when we're there. 

And again I think to my parents, and to Daisy's parents, about how finite and mortal all of us really are. We're all here for a good time, not a long time. Over the past 13 years of our relationship (the official anniversary date we will cross while we're in Canada, actually), I have developed a very strong bond with Daisy's parents. When they go it will affect me just as much as when my own go. It's all just so sad and slightly morbid to think about, but it is what it is. 

Keep in mind that Daisy's grandmother is also in her 90s and isn't doing too great health-wise. No, we don't expect her to go tomorrow or anything like that, but it could happen any time. This is the same grandmother who, when she heard of the death of her sister-in-law, began baking loaves of bread to send over to the family because, after all, that's tradition -- make food for the family when someone dies, right?

That is immensely sweet, of course. 

Our trip next month takes us right to the family homestead for the first four days of it, and with that, a lot of time with Daisy's grandmother at a time when half of the family will be prepping for the wedding in Halifax. We'll get to see the local family and I'm guessing some of the cousins who will come in for the wedding. Daisy has many cousins, and I've met most of them (all but a small handful) at least once. They're all great people, but I do have my favorites -- the two daughters and one of the sons of Daisy's uncle who lives next door to the family homestead, I adore immensely. The other cousin I adore is...well, the one getting married. 

Not only is our trip the week of the wedding, but the week before Canadian Thanksgiving. I would imagine Canada in general will be out and about and the air will be charged with the sights and sounds of Canadian Autumn™ in full swing. Grocery stores will likely be a madhouse, traffic -- even in the rural part of the province where we'll be spending most of our time -- will likely be somewhat hectic, and I expect there to be a little more hustle and bustle than usual. 

But, we'll be removed from a lot of that. Our goal for those first four days is to unwind and relax, get some quiet time with Daisy's grandmother, go do some Canada shopping, get some poutines and Tim Hortons, etc. The second half of the trip is when everything ramps up.

The wedding is the weekend before Canadian Thanksgiving. Two days before the wedding, we're driving into Halifax to see the sights and sounds of the city, go to Halifax Harbour, do some vegan restaurant tourism, etc. Then we'll be staying at the hotel that gave us the wedding rate for the wedding party, going to the wedding, and then immediately flying out the day after the wedding. We will be back on the ground in Omaha -- if everything goes according to plan -- shortly before the clock strikes midnight in Canada for Canadian Thanksgiving. 

We did, originally, want to book the trip to coincide with Canadian Thanksgiving -- I have always wanted to experience that, in Canada, with the Canadian family. It's just not how it worked out this time. We had to book the trip when and how the flights were available based on our allowed time off as well as flight prices, and even in advance that was far more difficult than a lot of you would likely imagine. With the time off we already used to visit my parents last month, our PTO was at a premium and there was a lot of strategy involved to make all of this work out. As I've mentioned before, I've always been the "get us there the fastest, and get us home the fastest" person, even if it costs more money to do so. I don't want to route through four different airports and spend twelve hours in layovers -- I want to go through as few airports as possible and be from point A to point B in less than twelve hours if possible. Time is money, and I don't waste it when I'm on vacation. I waste money, there's a difference. 

Ironically, money is about the last thing I have left that is any real concern to me about this trip -- and not in the way you'd think, either. I mentioned here a few weeks ago that I save up cash, collect it, get cash back from grocery store purchases, etc etc and then exchange it in Canada for Canadian money that will go much farther. Well, I've got a nice wad of bills stashed away already to do that with, and plan to double that amount by the time we leave -- but again, as we did before Canada last year, it's time to make another trip to Half-Price Books to sell a lot of old stuff.

But Brandon, you may be saying, just how much more shit could you physically have to sell? 

Well, this time around it's not a lot of valuable things, or really anything that's going to get me a lot of cash -- it will net some, to be sure, but nothing really substantial. This time around it's more about cleaning house than anything else.

Let me explain. I subscribe to about, ehhhh...maybe 30ish different comic series? New issues arrive every month. I read them, separate out what I save for my Dad and take with us when we go visit North Carolina, and the rest go into boxes up here in my office. These comics I used to organize and gift to one of our close friends who has two teenage boys -- the primary demographic for comics -- and I would give these boys multiple boxes of them at a time when our friend would come over to visit. According to her, the boys loved the comics, and well, they were just taking up space in the house -- it's not like any of them are really worth much. I considered it charity, a good deed, something that made me feel better and that I was doing some good to bring these kids a little joy in their lives. I never asked for anything in return nor did I ever want anything -- I just wanted them to enjoy the books.

Well, last year, our friend told us that the boys didn't want them anymore, that they were sort of growing out of them and had said, while it was nice of me to gift the books to them, it was no longer necessary. It sort of broke my heart a little, but...I get it, kids grow in and out of things. It is what it is. But, my subscriptions didn't stop, and because they were no longer being vacated from my home on a semi-regular basis, I began filling boxes upon boxes with comic books. Once a box got filled, I'd seal it up and begin filling another. 

In that time, I've probably gathered up about ten boxes of comics. I figured I'd either find somewhere to store them, someone else to give them away to, or...I would end up selling them to Half-Price Books. 

Now, Half-Price Books doesn't really give sellers a good deal on comics. I sold most of my older collection to them several years ago as part of everything else I sold to them and probably only got about $100 or so for the comics part of that, possibly much less. I've been told in the past that they buy common back issues (read: what I have) by the pound at a fixed price, but I don't think that is exactly accurate. But, what I do know is that I have a ton of comics taking up space in my upstairs office, and I do know that they buy them -- as well as books, magazines, CDs, movies, games, cards, board games, etc. 

So, at the same time we began planning this trip to Canada, I also began planning a trip over there to, essentially, sell all the comics, magazines, and stray books we have laying around the house. For a long time I subscribed to various magazines that have all just recently ended their subscriptions (the only ones I still subscribe to are Smithsonian and Popular Mechanics, and I'm pulling aside the Popular Mechanics issues for my dad). I also have a stack of CDs I've purchased, listened to, ripped digitally to my hard drive, and am ready to sell as well -- and a few DVDs and random books. So, it's a nice collection that I've been slowly building with the intent to sell off. I used to just recycle the magazines, but even if I only get a quarter apiece for them I'll still walk out of there with a quarter I didn't have before, and someone else will maybe get to enjoy them. 

Adding to this, we just got new sheets for the queen-size bed in Daisy's office -- which she would eventually like to use (for guests, for the cats, for a quick quiet nap, etc) but in order to do so, that bed needs to be cleaned off and the office needs to be cleaned out badly. Well, Daisy has become motivated to do this as of late, and I am not going to hold her back from that -- she also knows of the Half-Price Books plan, and there is a lot of stuff in storage in her office that she has fully stated and admitted that she doesn't need and will never use/read/etc despite her best intentions...so it'll go into "sell" boxes too. My overall goal, for years on end? Gut this house and sell or donate all the junk we don't need. We're working on it.

Where does that leave us? Well, it means over the course of the next few weeks we will be cleaning and boxing/packing everything we can up to sell, and making a trip over to Half-Price Books to hopefully get several hundred dollars for it. 

Well, that may be a little optimistic. I am shooting for about $200 or so from the stuff I personally take over there, and if I get less than that, fuck it, it's still out of the house. 

Whatever money we get, especially for my stuff, goes into the Canada Fund™ to pay for groceries, incidentals, Tim Hortons, gas, poutines, etc once I exchange it for Canadian cash in the airport. Last year, after my large sell-off, I had a few hundred dollars' worth of "walkin' around money," which I used for various things when we were up there. This is a shorter trip this time around, so my goal is the same, but somewhat more do-able: use cash for everything possible, especially the little things like one-off foods and coffees, gas stations, restaurants, etc, and anything bigger can be put on a card. Any cash leftover at the end of the trip can be saved for the trip next year, because there is always a trip next year. 

Actually, I think I had like $10-15 left in Canadian money after last year's trip and I'm pretty sure I just gave it to the parents so they could use it on their next trip up there (which I'm sure they did, if they remembered they had it). My memory is fuzzy on it, as my memory frequently is these days.

So yeah. That's on the list of plans.

My jacket I ordered from Walmart a few weeks ago finally arrived yesterday. It was shipped from China (because of course it was) and it is...a lot different than I expected. I thought it was going to be canvas or denim based on the photo:

It's not. It's 100% polyester and it's a full-zip hoodie. The colors are accurate, but the cuffs and pockets depicted, as well as the drawstring, certainly are not. 

However, however...it is faux-fur lined, throughout the entire interior -- just as the picture makes it look -- and it is warm and comfortable as hell. 

I paid $40 for it, roughly, and I am absolutely keeping it and wearing it. It was inexpensive enough to where if something happens to it or it rips or something, I won't be mad, and if it lasts for years I now have another zipper hoodie jacket that's thicker/heavier to add to my collection. It's likely going to be my travel jacket for Canada this year. Just heavy enough to keep me warm in the Canadian fall without being too hot or unwieldy for daily wear. 

However, before this arrived, I also ordered a Columbia rain jacket and two Columbia zipper hoodies, because I hedge my bets and in the Nebraska winter, you can never have too many hoodies:

The hoodies have not arrived yet, but they're polar fleece -- not normal sweatshirt material. The rain jacket arrived and it is much as it looks above -- a light nylon windbreaker with a hood, nothing fancy. I could return the rain jacket at this juncture if I wanted to, but ehhhh...I like it, and it's Columbia, so it's not like it's going to fall apart on me. I am greatly looking forward to those fleece hoodies, though, and at least one of them will go into my suitcase for the trip. If I like them better than the blue Chinese jacket, I'll likely wear one and pack the second as a spare and leave that jacket at home.

I've got options, is what I'm saying. I like options. 

The suitcase still vexes me. I'll likely add/remove things up until the day we leave the house. I like being prepared for all scenarios, but that's easier said than done for an international trip over a holiday week in the country we're flying into, during one of the most unpredictable times of the year for weather. I'm also now debating whether I should take my suit coat at all as it's supposed to be a very casual outdoor wedding. Skipping the suit coat and leaving it at home would save some space in the suitcase. I just don't know, really. 

Brandon Prepares to Conquer Canada, Part IV: Suitcasin' It

 The suitcase is, for most intents and purposes, packed and ready to go now. I'm not happy with it, nor am I happy with the small amount of space I have to work with -- even for such a large suitcase -- but it is what it is. Strategy is key. 

"It's going to be cold at the wedding," Mama told us. "It's outdoors, in the evening, in Canada in October. There's gonna be a bonfire." 

I don't even really know what to say to that; I have been there when it's been chilly at night before -- when we were there in May two years ago, it was nice and chilly at night and in the morning, and when we were there for our first trip ten years ago this week it was very chilly at night then too. 

I just want to be comfortable. I don't need to be warm or cold, I just need to be comfortable. If I'm comfortable, nothing else really matters. I guess it depends on how really casual this wedding is supposed to be. Like, I'm guessing it will not be casual enough for hoodies and sweatpants but...if it's outside, in October, at night...who knows. 

I am still debating on a few items for the luggage. How many pairs of pants do I really need for a nine-day trip? Am I good taking a couple pairs of thick jersey shorts that go down way past my knees instead of full sweatpants? Six of these nine days we'll have access to laundry at the family homestead. And I'm sure I'll find new sweatpants and/or another hoodie if I really want to get them, so do I absolutely need to pack these extra things? What about sandals? Will it be too cold for sandals? I wear sandals until it's too cold outside (or inside) to stand it. Will October in Canada be too cold? What if it rains all day every day?

Et cetera.

It's all overwhelming, honestly. I was overwhelmed by it yesterday afternoon and needed to take a nap before I could resume my strategy in the evening

Look, I know, I am likely way overthinking...well...pretty much everything. And you're very right if you think that. I can be absolutely fuckin' neurotic about so many things. 

The shoes I bought for the wedding, the leather Skechers, are the most uncomfortable pair of shoes I've ever owned and I am immediately returning them at the soonest possibility for me to get to Whole Foods. They cut into the front/top of my ankles with every step I take. I tried them on and walked around the house a bit, thinking "maybe I could deal with it for the wedding and then just never wear them again, donate them, etc" but within ten steps I was like no, no, I can't wear these. Do you know how uncomfortable shoes have to be for me to be like "I can't wear these"?

So, they went back into the box and my pair of charcoal grey/black Hey Dudes came out of the closet. Because casual wedding I guess means I'm wearing the Hey Dudes that I've owned for four years and aren't really beat up because I don't wear them that often. 

Fuck it.

If I find other shoes while I'm up there (which is, actually, a possibility), cool. Otherwise it's gonna be the Hey Dudes and my sandals for the entire trip, because I don't have the room to carry extra shit. it is what it is, honestly.

Today is Labor Day. I have a lot of feelings about Labor Day and what it has traditionally meant to me over the years. When I was a kid, it was little more to me than an extra day off school a week or two after school started. It should have meant more to me then as it really signifies the end of summer and the beginning of fall, even if the seasons haven't yet officially changed. 

For the past few years, Labor Day has had extreme sentimental value to me simply because over the holiday I am almost always traveling. The past two years over the holiday, we've been in North Carolina. Before that, in 2017, we drove home to West Virginia for the week to see family -- it was the last time I saw my home state or saw my grandmother alive (she died about three months later). A decade ago now, I was seeing Canada for the first time at the end of August and beginning of September. I have had many great memories of long, relaxing Labor Day weekends.

These days, I just get an extra day off work. But it feels like I should be going somewhere, doing something unexpected and/or expensive. Maybe that's just me. I can be, and usually am, nostalgic for the past, and for past experiences. 

The Almanac has predicted this winter to be mild and fairly dry for our area. I really hope that it is correct. I long for the winters of my youth, where it would creep into the 40s and 50s a fair amount of the days and felt warmer simply because there was a little humidity in the air. If I can't have that, I'll take mild and dry.

I've been trying to convince the wife that Wilmington would be a good place to live. Either there or one of the other surrounding towns. I don't want to live on the island where my parents are -- well, actually, I do, but it is a very touristy area populated by senior citizens who don't know how to drive (which we saw in abundance while there) and Proud Boys in monster trucks. I don't need or want that. But, Wilmington has:

• A great Gabe's
• A Whole Foods and a Trader Joe's
• Daisy's favorite vegan restaurant on the planet (Sealevel City Vegan Diner)
• Hands down the best bagel shop we've ever been to (Seaside Bagel)
• The second-best donut shop I've ever been to (Brooklyn Cafe; #1 is Voodoo Doughnuts)
• What appeared to be mostly reasonable traffic and a beautiful, Omaha-like downtown area
• An easy to access and fly-in-and-out-of airport
• Close access to multiple beaches in the area
• Close access to my parents without being on top of them 
• Friends/family in the area (I have multiple friends who live in NC, and my parents -- and Daisy now has a friend who lives in Wilmington)
• Relatively low chances of being taken out by a hurricane as the inland parts of the city are well above sea level
• Almost zero snow, ever -- it's a, maybe, twice-a-decade thing there -- and mild/warm temperatures almost year round
• It's NC, so, alligators on occasion

Daisy...is not convinced. She says it does not feel like home. I countered by saying that to me, Omaha definitely does not feel like home and I have now (by force) lived here for going on twelve years. 

Yes, there are downsides to Wilmington -- it is unbearably hot and humid in the summer, for one. But, as I also told Daisy, it's unbearably hot and humid in the summer in Omaha, too, and air conditioning exists for a reason. Daisy and I are also in the unique position of both of us working fully-remote jobs now, jobs that either of us can work from anywhere in the country at any time as long as we have a stable, reliable internet connection. Previously, we couldn't do that -- I especially couldn't do that as my last company required certain people in certain states to work in an office in said state or they had to resign their positions. 

As an aside, for that last thing -- in my program we had a don't ask, don't tell policy about that, as people moved all over the place all the time. It was basically an unwritten rule that it wouldn't be an issue until it was forced to be one. As a result, I had people working for me in Texas, New Mexico, Arizona, Oklahoma, Pennsylvania, Virginia, South Carolina, Kansas, Missouri, and Oregon over the span of about five years or so. It was never a problem unless someone made it into a problem, and our higher leadership and I did everything we could to keep those people from becoming problems. 

But, my work at that company is long over now, and I'm now working for a very large, multinational corporation who, on my first day of training, had half of my class consist of Canadians and the other half were scattered around the states in various locations.

I need to get out of Omaha before it eats me alive. I am getting too old to enjoy, properly enjoy, living in one of the places I've always wanted to live. I don't want to retire to a beach community; instead, I want to live there and be young and energetic enough to actually enjoy it. 

Still, it is a moot point for the time being -- we made the decision long ago to stay here in Omaha until both of Daisy's parents have passed on to the next life. Neither of them are young, but neither of them are "gonna die next week" old either. We've likely got at least another decade here in Omaha unless they decide they want to go somewhere else, which they will not and I do not think they'd choose to do at this point in their lives. Also, should go without saying, we do not want them to die. We want them both around as long as possible. 

More than this, Daisy and I have had discussions about eventually not just moving out of state, but out of the country -- depending, of course, on many different factors, both monetary as well as political. However, about the only country I really want to live in is...well, Canada. And, if you think it would be hard to move six cats from Omaha to North Carolina, can you imagine doing that overseas? Because I can't. I have no idea how it would be feasible for us to lug six cats and all of our belongings to somewhere in Europe, not to mention the costs involved in jumping off the proverbial American ship.

Mind you, Pete doesn't have much time left, but the other five cats we've got a good 12-15 years with (hopefully), since they're all still young. Mable especially isn't allowed to die until we've paid off her hip surgery. 

Anyway, I've said my piece with her. Maybe after another several years' worth of visits to North Carolina, she'll change her mind and warm up to it more. This is part of why I want to make the trip in the spring or in the fall -- like, April/May or October. She has to know, and feel, the weather there in times where it's not the midst of summer. She has to see the area outside of a tourist season to know what it's really like. 

I return to work tonight for the overnight, approximately 18 hours from now. It's a short week for me because of the holiday, but aside from the trip to Canada there are no more holidays now until Thanksgiving. I feel like I got a lot accomplished over this long weekend, but not nearly enough -- time and the exhaustion I almost constantly feel now really put a damper on what I could get done.

Brandon Prepares to Conquer Canada, Part III: The End of Summer

 Well, we are now in Labor Day weekend, which is the unofficial end of summer and start of fall. As if on cue, it started raining on Friday and really hasn't stopped for longer than a few minutes since -- likely the most rain we've had over a few days' span all year up to this point, at least from a consistency point of view. 

I have the weekend off; I don't return to work until 10pm Monday night. This means my extra "Labor Day" holiday is today. I giveth no fucks about what's going on at work; I know we have coverage for the shifts necessary and once that was achieved, I stopped caring. This weekend for me has been about family, spending time with Daisy, and shopping/paying bills. 

I'm sort of in a holding pattern at this point for the rest of my normal life stuff or for the planning of the Canada trip; I'm either waiting for supplies to arrive for various reasons. Most of the Labor Day sales for various companies or sites don't interest me in the least and I really haven't paid attention to them; I've instead been slowly acquiring the supplies necessary for a trip to Canada in the fall months and am really just biding my time waiting for a lot of it to arrive. Here's the list so far:

• Six different types of vegan jerky and three different packs of vegan Slim Jims to sample/try to see which one(s) I want to take on the trip in my backpack (arrives Tuesday) 
• Not to be outdone, Daisy also ordered a large amount of Louisville vegan jerky that will arrive...sometime, eventually, who knows
• A case of Lenny & Larry's "The Complete Cookie" white chocolate macadamia, to not only eat here in the house -- yes, they're "good for you" cookies -- but to take several of in the backpack (arrived yesterday)
• A $30 jacket from Walmart to see if it's too light/heavy to wear daily up there (arrives sometime mid-month, it's being shipped from overseas; meh, it looked cool and was worth a shot)
• A $53 thin/packable hooded jacket from Columbia to wear anytime as long as I like it, but specifically for the Canada trip (arrives Tuesday; if I don't like it, I got it from Amazon and can easily return it)
• A Poison t-shirt that I originally ordered from Walmart but the order got cancelled because they were out of stock, so I reordered it from Old Navy, who had the exact shirt in stock (arrives in "7-9 business days")
• An Ozzy Osbourne tribute shirt, also from Old Navy (arrives in "5-8 business days")
• The final two presents for my Dad for Christmas, yet again from Old Navy, done in the same order as the Ozzy shirt
• Two Jonathan Coulton CDs (those aren't for the trip, they're just a me thing)
• Three cases of different energy drinks (also not for the trip, just for me)
• A bottle of "Snickerdudel" Old Spice limited edition holiday body wash (again, just a me thing)

I am still trying to mentally plot my suitcase out; the backpack is nearly done. I'll add a few things here and there to the backpack, but there's nothing else I need to put in it that's not already in there. The suitcase is an entirely different ballgame. I'll likely only take about 1/3 of what is in it now and will try to leave it as close to half-empty as I can. Traveling to Canada for me is just like camping, but into a motel with a Tim Hortons next door instead of a tent. I try to survive on the barest of essentials, consume a large amount of what I take with me so that I'm not bringing it back, and leave as much space as possible in the bags to bring new things back. 

Of course, there's a lot of political instability between our two countries right now -- something I never actually thought I'd say. We're likely going to face a fair amount more scrutiny and a bit more brusqueness this time around simply because we're Americans, so my goal is to blend in as much as possible while we're up there. That's also part of the reason for getting a new jacket to wear while there -- if the wife and I can blend in and pass for Canadian there will be less proverbial eyes on us and therefore less worry that we'll be subject to rudeness or any other sort of discrimination.

Per Mama, who is indeed Canadian, this is nothing new; Canadians have generally looked down on and/or disliked most Americans since the beginning, and it's been a running theme her entire life. It's not really something she's seen change; when she married Dad, fifty years ago, it was difficult for him to get a job in Canada simply because he was American, despite the fact that he was living in Canada and was married to a Canadian. Canada has always employed a "Canada first" policy that tends to be way more harsh to outsiders (just from what I've seen and been told) than our "America first" mindset here. You know that whole "made in the USA" and "buy American" sentiment that seems to surge in popularity here every few years? Yeah, it has always been really strong in Canada and I am sure with the actions of our current president, it has absolutely reached a fever pitch there with anti-American sentiment now running at the highest it's ever been. But, even before that, I have watched Daisy's family members, including her grandmother, physically recoil in disgust when they find out that a food item, condiment, napkin/paper towels etc was either made in America or has American components/ingredients. That blew my mind.

Now mind you, I wasn't born or raised in that culture, but I can't imagine feeling that way when reading the fine print on a ketchup bottle or paper towel packaging and seeing some components or ingredients came from another country. Maybe I'm just used to it? Half the shit in my house was made in China, Japan, Mexico, the Philippines, Malaysia, India, Bangladesh, or somewhere in South America. It's absolutely not something I ever really think about, much less recoil at. All of my vapes, all of the companies who manufacture and produce the disposables, coils, tanks, mods, etc -- all of them are Chinese. 

So, what I'm saying is...yes, we have to be a bit cautious and mindful while we're up there. More so than ever before. Daisy's family doesn't really treat us any differently of course -- we are welcomed with love and open arms because we're family and also because they know we despise Donald Trump, and aren't "typical" Americans. And, luckily, most of the people we see and spend time with up there are family, or are longtime family friends who also know our viewpoints and mindsets. Still, I would never go out in public wearing any clearly American clothing or anything else that might draw extra attention to myself. I can only hope our rental car this time around doesn't have American plates (it's a toss up a lot of the time, at least in Atlantic Canada, whether this will be the case). I enjoy myself, I learn the local lingo, will now attempt to emulate a bit of the accent of the area consciously, and otherwise stay under the radar. 

Despite it being a holiday weekend, I haven't gotten a lot of real rest or sleep. I've been averaging about 5-6 hours a day/night, and it's not been enough. On Thursday, I got up and did some household chores, and then cooked spaghetti and (vegan) meatballs for the wife and myself for our weekly "dinner and Star Trek night." Friday I spent doing a lot of yard work and even more housework before passing out for a few hours in the afternoon due to exhaustion. Saturday was spent galivanting around town with Mama -- we took her out to lunch for falafels and then went to HomeGoods with her before returning to the family home for several more hours. 

I do need to break down some events though, things I haven't covered here before. 

On Thursday night, during our Star Trek-fueled dinner, Daisy said she smelled smoke -- or like something was really hot, like she could "smell heat." I got a faint whiff of it, and we scoured the house for anything we could find, and came up empty. She thought in the end that it may have been the plastic food processor parts in the dishwasher getting warm during the drying cycle, as she is never downstairs when the dishwasher is running (generally, she puts it on before bed and goes upstairs, and it runs while I'm working the overnight -- but on Thursday I'd been running an extra cycle because I washed all the cats' bowls and their water fountain). When she entered the kitchen again some time after this, she smelled it again, and at that time pinpointed it to the dishwasher's drying cycle for the plastic food processor parts in it being the likely culprit. I could smell that too but I was used to it because, well, the dishwasher is running almost every night when I'm downstairs. So, I didn't think much of anything else of it. 

However, she did tell me -- on Thursday night -- that weeks ago, when she was out in the backyard, she smelled a faint whiff of natural gas. Mind you, the utility board installed our new outside gas meter about two years ago now (eh, roughly, I can't really remember -- might have been three) and we have never had a problem with it. 

"You're just now telling me this?" I asked. I was mad. 

She said it slipped her mind and she never thought of it afterwards. I could not fathom that. I slightly lost my mind a little bit. 

The next day, I went out to do the yard work and it involved running the string trimmer along that side of the house where the gas meter was. So I went to investigate, and sure enough, I smelled gas. It wasn't strong, but it was enough to smell it in the air. There were no visible leaks on the meter and nothing looked out of place, but I knew that smelling gas was a bad thing. I immediately called Daisy over to the door and told her I smelled gas and she needed to call the utility board, and call them now, so that they'd send someone out before the holiday weekend. 

She comes back out a few minutes later and tells me "they're sending someone out on an emergency call ASAP, but they also said we need to evacuate the property."

Mind you, at this point it's hot, I've been in the sun for almost two hours and still have more work to do outside in the yard, and I am covered in sweat and grass. I am at the dirtiest and greasiest I have been in weeks. 

"Fuck that," I said. "I'm not evacuating shit, I still have another hour of yard work to do and the smell of gas is outside, very faint, not inside the house."

Daisy was ready to pack up all six of the cats and take her laptop over to her parents' to work for the day (she had not started work yet) and I was like "no, that's fucking stupid, it's outside the house."

The utility board guy and his truck pulled up to the house less than five minutes later, took a reading and was like "yeah, this nut is loose" -- he tightened it, and the problem was fixed. 

Daisy even had him check the inside of his house with the meter as well, just to make sure there were no other leaks. There were none. 

I wonder how much our gas bill was artificially inflated by a slow leak, for weeks or months, due to a nut that was slightly loose. 

So, crisis averted, we went on with our lives and I continued the yard work. When I finally finished, I had just come back in the house when Daisy came running to my room to tell me not to strip off my clothing yet and not to shower, because the Catsitter lady was coming over to drop off the house key and she couldn't deal with it because she was already working and on the phones for the day. So, I went back downstairs, every part of me aching, covered in sweat, and as filthy as Pigpen from Peanuts, and got the key from our very nice Catsitter lady.

I showered thereafter, and with Pete on my ottoman with me (and occasionally on my chest) I passed out in my chair from sheer exhaustion.

That night, our microwave blew out and died. 

We have had so many problems with microwaves since Daisy and I have been married. The microwave in our apartment blew out more than once, and we had it fixed there by the maintenance people and eventually replaced. The same thing happened here in the house a few years ago -- the techs were able to come fix it twice before the last one completely died and needed to be replaced. Now the same thing has happened again -- it will turn on and rotate the plate, but it will not heat anything anymore. Even before that we would occasionally hear it "short" and make a zzaaaap noise if we'd been cooking anything on the stove beneath it before we used it -- I guess that's a huge design flaw of the over-the-range microwaves. Either that or they just, as they say, "don't make 'em like they used to."

Anyway, Daisy will have to open a home warranty ticket on that to get it fixed or replaced, because in 2025 you can't really function without a working microwave.

The stove is fucked too; the front burner on the right side doesn't work and hasn't worked in years, and the oven itself has something wrong with the control board or something because when it's on, it will flick back and forth between self-clean mode and bake mode. Over and over. The oven, at least, is likely old enough to where if it's a major part, we could just get the thing completely replaced with our home warranty. But, all of it is a hassle. It all takes time and is energy-consuming when legitimately all I want to do is try to find a way to get restful sleep and to feel revitalized instead of in joint pain when I wake up. 

I've found that as I get older, a lot of my time is consumed by pain management. I find myself needing to take glucosamine or ibuprofen, or both, almost every single day. In the spring and fall, that expands to sinus pain and pressure pills too, when my face and nose decides that it wants to pressurize so badly it sends lightning strikes of pain through my cheekbones and teeth. I have also found myself supplementing all of these pain management techniques with energy drinks and strong coffee, because I frequently have trouble acquiring the "get up and go" or "actually stay the fuck awake" energy I need to be able to...y'know, move about the house, do my job, leave the house for errands, or really do anything. Am I just getting old now? Is this part of the process, or am I really breaking down prematurely? I honestly don't know. I turn 43 in a few months and it seems early for my body to just be without energy this much and in such constant joint pain all the time, but maybe not.

Brandon Prepares to Conquer Canada, Part II

 My PTO request for the Canada trip has been approved, and all parties in leadership are aware I'll be out during that week. That was the final hurdle to overcome for me. I will now clear some space on my credit cards (after all, I did use those cards while traveling to NC and back), finish packing up, and when that flight lifts off to the Great White North, goddammit, I will be so ready.

We are there for a little over a full week, as two days of the trip are travel-only. We fly out of Omaha into Philadelphia (which I will now be able to add to the list of airports/cities I've visited, as I've never been there before -- but I hear it's always sunny there) and from Philadelphia directly into Halifax. When we return, it's the same route in reverse. 

I have spent this week, off and on anyway, preparing supplies. I ordered a new phone stand charger, which will go directly into my backpack, and separate plugs for it. I ordered little jars of Noxzema so that I can shave while I'm there without taking a pressurized can of shaving cream or the entire mug/brush shaving soap set that I use here at home.

As an aside, if you're a guy and you've never used Noxzema -- like, normal, blue-jar plain Noxzema -- as a shaving cream, holy hell are you missing out on one of the best shaving experiences ever. Around twenty years ago, I read something online about people using Noxzema for shaving, so I figured I'd try it. I've never had a better shave. It's a bit pricey, and it can absolutely be messy, so I don't use it every time (that's what the mug/brush kit is for, which I like almost as much) but when I want to look and feel my absolute best, the Noxzema shave is the way to go. I will have to touch up the beard the day of/night before the wedding, and there's no easier alternative than to just toss a good disposable razor and a small jar of Noxzema into the travel bag. Until then, aside from a little weekly upkeep here and there, I'm letting the beard grow back out evenly between now and the trip. It takes forever for my beard to really grow out anyway. 

I have also ordered a few types of vegan jerky to test out before the trip; it is a tradition of mine that when traveling to Canada, I always have a bag full of vegan jerky to munch on in airports, in the hotel room, etc. It started several years ago when Walmart put my favorite, Beyond Jerky, on deep clearance -- which allowed me to get proverbial cases of it all at once pretty cheaply. Beyond Jerky, sadly, now seems to be discontinued as I haven't been able to find it in stores or online in well over a year:

Well, shit.

That's really sad to me because it was great. So, I've been trying to find a suitable replacement that isn't ungodly expensive or, if ungodly expensive, actually puts enough into a bag where it's worth the price. This can also get pricey, so I'm trying a few different varieties found on Amazon one pack at a time. The plan is, well, whichever one I like best, order a fuckton of it and stuff it all into my travel backpack. 

The travel backpack, for Canada, is always light and left at least half empty. All of my mostly-important stuff and clothing goes into the checked suitcase, leaving the travel backpack (which is all I took to NC) for my passport, a change of clothes, a spare pair of shoes/glasses, my pills and electronics (such as my mp3 players, vapes, etc) and small food items like the jerky or some protein bars, etc. On the way there, the backpack is a contingency plan of sorts -- if the plane loses my luggage or it's delayed coming in and they have to deliver it to the family homestead later (or what have you), I've at least got a change of clothes, my meds, passport, and food. It's not the end of the world is what I'm saying. I can work around a lot of things with that. No, it's not ideal, but it's workable.

On the way back, the travel backpack is usually bursting full of Canadian candy bars, ketchup chips, some of the new wardrobe purchases I've made, and any other odds and ends that I can bring home. This is planned, this is travel-by-design for me. And most of the time I am amazingly efficient at it.

I may have mentioned this earlier, but I have hit my weight-loss goal for the time being -- or at least, the goal I had from 2018 until now -- I am, finally, back in the 200s again for the first time since the Bush administration. Or, at least I was before I went to NC for a week and ate like an absolute asshole. I have not weighed myself since I returned home. I also don't expect to be in the 200s by the time I get back from Canada; when I am there, I absolutely partake of all of the best foods the country has to offer -- it's not just the poutines, but it's their breads and cheeses, their vegan lunch meats (far superior to those I can get stateside), their sodas, their ketchup and all-dressed chips, their (also far superior) Canadian candy bars, Tim Hortons, etc. I absolutely let myself go and throw caution to the wind when I'm in Canada, and it is so very worth it.

But, I digress.

I should be done stockpiling supplies by the end of next week, and then phase II of the preparations can begin -- making sure I maximize all space while also making sure I bring all the essentials. As I mentioned in my last entry here, the suitcase is currently a "dry run" where I am just checking to see how much space things take up. I'll be removing and replacing a lot of the stuff in it, and will constantly be arranging and rearranging items for weight/weight distribution and just general space likely up until the night before we leave. I am slightly obsessive about it. Daisy thinks I'm batshit crazy about it, in fact. But I am meticulous, and I am a planner. Everything is done by design. I know how long each of my vapes last, because I use them every day. I know how many Nicorette mints I tend to go through during a day of travel through airports. I know what shoes, and what pants, to wear for maximum comfort during travel. I know how long I can live in a single hoodie and pants before I absolutely need to change/wash them at the family homestead. I know how long my mp3 players' batteries last on a full charge. These are likely afterthoughts to most folks, but not to me. 

We have heard back from our Catsitter lady and she may be able to watch the cats again while we're in Canada -- we offered to pay her more to offset the cost of gas, as the other job she's doing during that time is across town about, oh, fifteen miles away. She's considering it, at least, and is going to see if she can work it into her schedule. I'm almost willing to pay her whatever she asks, even if it would normally be an exorbitant fee, because the cats like her so much and she was wonderful with them when we were in NC. I can't stress how absolutely at ease I was with her taking care of the kids. 

I am letting the dye fade out of my hair for the next few weeks -- I will not re-up the color in it, I will not touch it up or treat it with color-protecting products -- I am letting it fade out so that a week or so before the trip, Daisy can re-do it with the new black dye I purchased from Sally Beauty Supply a few weeks ago and have it be all fresh, but with a week or so buffer in order to let any excess wash out and make the hair look more natural. My normal hair is growing back in at the roots, and as it's naturally medium brown it's not too hard to get it to absorb the color needed to make it fully black. I'm eschewing the Just For Men beard dye this time around, though. 

Brandon Prepares to Conquer Canada, Part I

 Our trip to Canada is in the beginning of October. Next week is September. So, it's a lot closer than it seems. As such, we (mainly me) have been doing everything possible to start preparing for it now, because I know once I get bogged down with work stresses again on a daily basis, finding the energy to do so during the brief few days I'm off every week will prove to be an almost insurmountable task.

And, to be fair, there are a lot more preparations necessary for international travel. When we go to Canada, it's not just a "throw some clothes and vapes into my backpack and wing it" experience -- there are so very many factors to consider and plan for, such as the rental car, hotel accommodations (because after all, in Canada, we're not staying with my parents) for two different cities, planning international flights, planning for contingencies like luggage getting lost on international flights, exchanging currency, making sure we take clothing for all possible weather situations, etc. It's so much more work and planning than it is to just fly to North Carolina to visit my parents.

Adding to this, we're not just going for a pleasure trip this time around -- this trip is specifically to see some family briefly and then attend Daisy's cousin's wedding the day before we fly home. PTO is tight for both of us because we just returned from North Carolina -- I have zero wiggle room left after applying my PTO last night upon my return to work. We'll get back into Omaha on a Sunday night (and it hurts that I had to burn the PTO for that day, as I won't get home for hours after I'd have to start work) and both of us immediately return to work the next day with no breathing space or recovery time. 

But, it's still an international trip, so normal international trip preparations must be made in addition to preparation for a wedding we'll be attending.

As an aside, on average I attend about one wedding a year. Again, average. Most times it's not an incredibly formal affair (I don't think this one will be either), but I still try to make myself look nice, if not incredibly presentable. I owe that to the folks getting married. The problem is, well, I don't really have any "dressy" clothing. I have two sport coats -- one I got married in and the other I tend to wear to weddings, but as I've lost so much weight it looks like a tent on me now. I have maybe four pairs of dressy slacks in a few assorted colors, and I look weird in them when I wear them. I have two pairs of incredibly uncomfortable dress shoes that I can't wear for long periods of time or my feet will hurt for days (actually, I'll probably donate those soon). Everything else in my closet is jeans/sweatpants, t-shirts, shorts, hoodies, and flip-flops. I don't leave the house anymore unless I have to, and as formal dress opportunities are once a year on average, aside from those things my wardrobe has been pared down considerably over the course of the past few years since the pandemic. 

I also find it hard to pack for Canada in October. In October, it could be crazy cold below freezing every day/night, or they could be having an Indian Summer™ and it could be in the 60s and 70s every day. When we were there in May a couple of years ago, it was like this too -- below freezing in the mornings and still spring-brisk in the daytime/afternoon hours. I think it hit 70 for the first time one of the last days we were there. So I mean, we kind of have to consider both types of weather because in Atlantic Canada anything and everything can exist in the same day -- I've seen it. 

Space is at a premium too -- as I've written here before, when we travel, we tend to shop and update our wardrobes considerably. Canadian Walmarts are amazing and other chains up there like Giant Tiger are great too. They carry clothing in fat-people sizes and are wildly affordable, especially with the exchange rate being what it is. Let's check on that for a second, shall we?

Yeah, that's about average. Basically, look at it this way -- in Canada, our money goes 39% farther.

But because we know we will be getting new clothing in Canada, it generally shapes what we take with us because, after all, we have to save space in our luggage. Suitcases have a max weight limit of 50 pounds for checked baggage -- and both of us tend to come reaaaaally close to that on return trips from Canada. But, also, like... why would I pack a hoodie, for example, if I know I'll get at least one new one while in Canada? Same goes for a lot of other clothing too. I don't know if there's a trip to Canada we've made where I didn't come back with at least one (last time, it was three) new hoodies. So, it's hard to plan for. What if we go up there and don't find anything new? Etc. 

I have preliminarily started packing my suitcase; there are other things that will go into it and things that I'll end up taking out of it. Mable was not amused:

So far, I have a couple pairs of sweatpants, some jeans, a zipper hoodie, a pullover hoodie, some t-shirts, and my cosmetics case/bag (see the far right of the photo). Where Mable is sitting, I'll zipper in the sport coat and other clothing specifically for the wedding to keep it separate. I also have to take a lint roller, because cats. 

Almost all of the clothing currently pictured in that suitcase will likely change between now and the trip. This is just a "dry run," so to speak, to figure out what I really need and how much space I really have to work with. 

Because of the dress shoes situation I mentioned earlier, I looked up and purchased a nice pair of black slip-on Skechers dressy-ish shoes this afternoon on Amazon. They'll likely be my main shoes when I'm traveling this time around; they would work both in casual as well as formal or semi-formal applications:

Good enough, right? Can wear 'em with normal pants as well as with dress pants and they won't stand out too much either way.

Mind you, I don't need more shoes, lord knows I have enough. But I have to be able to wear something comfortable and easy when traveling, and my other slip-on shoes are either Hey Dudes (too casual) or are tan/white, which do not go with the black/gray ensemble I'm wearing for the wedding. My other choices are Chuck Taylors with flames on them (which, incidentally, I wore to the last wedding I attended) or...flip flops.

Yeah, again, I'm not a dressy guy.

Daisy's cousin, who is an amazing person (her husband-to-be is too, by the way) would likely find it quite amusing that I'm stressing even this much about what shoes to wear to her wedding. But honestly I want to show up, I want my wife to be proud to be seen with me. I want to look good. 

I showed my wife the planned outfits when she came into my office on her break, and her response was "you know this is a really casual affair, right?"

Yes, yes I do.

I then folded up my jacket and dressy pants, and tossed a nice v-neck into the suitcase and zipped it up. Wedding outfit: done. 

I am excited, if you couldn't tell; I adore Canada. There's nowhere else on the planet I'd rather go, and when I'm there, there's nowhere else on the planet I'd rather be. Canada -- especially Atlantic Canada, Nova Scotia -- feels so much like home to me. It just feels right, it feels safe there, and even though I'm an American, everything and every place feels like I am welcomed with open arms -- come to us, West Virginia boy, bathe in our maple syrup and Timmies, eat of our bountiful poutine, and listen to the soothing sounds of Gordon Lightfoot, Rush, and The Tragically Hip. I may be an outsider, but I never feel like one when I'm there. Ever.