Brandon Prepares to Conquer Canada, Part VI: Miles, Baby, Miles

 We are a week out before we leave for the Great White North™ and most of the important things are now taken care of. We still have a few small things to do of course, but it is what it is. Bills are paid, Catsitter has the keys (she will get her money when we leave; we withdrew it this morning), front grass is mowed, and I am almost completely packed and ready to rumble. It's going to be in the 60s during the day and the 40s/50s at night when we're in Canada, so most days we should be comfortable in almost any clothing we take with us. 

"Did you pack shorts?" Daisy asked me this morning.

"Yes," I said. "At least two pairs, maybe three. The longer shorts, so if I want to wear those instead of pants if the weather is nice, I can." 

I packed a comfortable pair of flip-flops too, by the way. I don't like wearing socks and shoes unless it's warranted. Generally in Canada in the fall, I would say it's warranted, but if it's going to be in the 60s every day, well, maybe not some days. 

We shall see. Per the local weatherman here, Omaha isn't going to see anything "fall like" until at least October 8th, and even then it may be fleeting. We're still hitting mid-80s every day most of the time. So, Canada is likely going to be just a bit of a shock to our systems. Depending on the weather here when we leave, I may change up my entire travel outfit. 

Daisy is very excited for the trip, because it's nine days of uninterrupted time with me -- I asked her something along the lines of won't you get sick of being with me 24/7 by the end of that?  and her answer of "absolutely not" with shock and a little hurt in it that surprised me. 

She then asked me "are you saying you will be sick of me after all that time?"

Well, no, of course I won't; this was more about her having to put up with me, because I can be a bear and a burden when I have to sleep in hotels for over a week and will be getting the most physical activity every day that I've had for the better part of a year. I can get cranky. And after a while my body sort of defaults to it, whether I want to or not. It is unintentional, I assure you.

To help us out on the trip, and I may have mentioned this before, we got a new card -- an AAdvantage Citi card, with a huge limit. The bonus with it is that it earns a crazy number of airline miles for American Airlines when we use it, and after we use it to a certain point, it gives us an insane bonus number of miles -- like, enough to where our next trip to Canada, or to visit my parents in NC, will be essentially free. 

We got the card a few weeks ago (I got a copy too, as an authorized user) and we have been using it for many things -- little things for the most part, but things nonetheless. It's what we'll be using in Canada for the bulk of our purchases -- things I don't use the cash for anyway. Stuff like gas, food, lodging, whatever souvenir clothing (or just clothing in general) we get, etc. And everything racks up those beloved, precious miles. The goal is to get home and pay it off quickly with our paychecks and the bonuses Daisy gets from her job. But it also means we can live a life of semi-luxury in a foreign country for a little over a week. I'm not talking caviar and Mercedes money, but a few nice meals out and some shopping trips where we don't really have to worry about a "budget," per se, will be nice.

In reality yes, we will be budgeting to an extent -- but it's not necessarily at the top of our minds for nearly anything we'll do while we're there. And I also have my own cards and will have the cash, of course -- I put travel notices on my cards last night so that I didn't forget about it. I just want to be comfortable for the time we're there. It's going to be hard enough being an American in Canada this trip, even mostly-rural, Atlantic Canada -- as I've said before, I don't want to stick out any more than we have to, and I certainly don't want to be singled out by anyone up there who can't stand America now. 

I read a news story a few weeks ago about "flag-jacking," which is when Americans who are traveling sew Canadian flag patches onto their clothing and pretend to be Canadian because they're treated better in other countries than if they're known to be American, and...I get it. Canadians are apparently furious about this, but it isn't a new thing -- it's been commonplace all the way back to the 60s and 70s. I guess it's just getting more attention now because of how much more America is hated by the world now than ever before. 

Are we flag-jacking when we go up there because we wear Canadian clothing and try to blend in? I don't know, exactly. Daisy is, as I've said here many times, a Canadian citizen -- and I, while American myself, am married to a Canadian citizen. And we have a ton of family there. So, I therefore feel that we can be justified in whatever heritage/patriotism and displays of it we choose to partake in while we're there and while traveling. I am a very strong supporter and lover of Canada, and I hate what's happening to my home country down here. I am not pretending to be Canadian to be treated better, when I'm there or anywhere else -- our Canadian family accepted me as one of their own and said "welcome home" a long time ago. But, do I want everyone I encounter in the Great White North™ to immediately know I'm an American as soon as they see me? Fuck no. 

Of course, that's always more difficult than it seems. I try to blend in more subtly; I will take with me (and wear) Red Green, Tragically Hip, Gordon Lightfoot, and Rush t-shirts, and the rest of my clothing is purposely nondescript and/or very similar to what normal folks in Atlantic Canada would wear -- hoodies, light jackets, jeans, etc. Daisy just wears her normal clothing, which I wouldn't classify as screaming "American in disguise" but I also wouldn't classify as "American, look at me" either...but it's also not really similar to a lot of what the Canadians there would wear either, so I don't know. What I'm saying is that most folks, unless they're out hunting Americans, aren't going to give either of us a second look when we're out and about, and that is exactly what I/we are going for. 

However, there is one small problem with that -- our hair.

Daisy does have dark sea-green and purple hair. I have hair that's been dyed black, faded out to a greenish black/blue, and then re-upped to cement that darker color in this afternoon. Most folks our age up there, in rural Atlantic Canada, do not have crazy hair colors. Teenagers do, punk rock kids into their 20s and maybe even early 30s can, but it's not like it is here in the states where it's every other person -- it's few and far between up there in the rural areas. I can probably count on one hand the number of people who I've seen with odd hair colors when we've been up there, and one of them is Daisy's cousin (who we likely won't even see on this trip). So that alone will make us stick out a little more than usual. Daisy plans to get hers cut while we're there at the salon she loves to go to (they do an excellent job on her hair, by the way) but we shall see how that pans out. Daisy has not had a haircut outside of our trips to Canada for the past three years, aside from any trimming she does herself. 

I am also grateful that we're flying directly into Halifax and not into Maine and then driving up, because there's a much slimmer possibility that we'll end up with a rental car with American plates that way. We can proverbially fly under the radar a lot better if we've got a car with plates from one of the Atlantic provinces. Plus, those gas prices in Canada are no joke.

If you think I'm kidding about any of this, I'm not; these are all real concerns I've had over the course of the past several weeks and months. 

Anyway.

We've gotten several of the other little things done. Hank has his appointment to see the eye specialist on Thursday; we're likely going to figure out that day what awaits him once we return from Canada. Some days his eye looks like it's getting better, and other days it looks terrible. I obviously don't want him to lose the eye, but it's really not getting any better at all no matter what we do or how many vet visits we take him to. I am hoping we can get some answers on Thursday.

My boss at work asked me if I'd cover the weekend for someone when I got back; I can't. I did not even mention to him that it'll be my first days of real rest after running for almost two weeks straight -- mainly because he won't see it that way and it's irrelevant to the situation -- but because we'll be out of country, a lot of stuff we would have done during that time is being pushed to that weekend, including Mama's birthday celebration. That week, Daisy's sister is supposed to come into town with her husband and the kids, and it will be the first time we've seen them in almost a full year. I can tell you now that I will be absolutely exhausted once we return from Canada, and I still have to return to work less than 24 hours after my return home to then work three 11-hour shifts back to back. It's going to be really difficult and very tiring for me, and I know it now. The last thing I want to do is shorten the break that I finally get at the end of that to cover for someone else at work because they can't properly staff a weekend dayshift with anyone who knows what they're doing.

No lie, that's the reason. Our staffing has been cut at work to the barest of bare minimums by our corporate overlords, who deem that having more than four people working the overnight shift is "unnecessary" and don't believe we need a full-time director or manager covering the other 3-4 nights of the week that my boss and I aren't on shift. Seriously. 

News flash, we definitely need more than four people and we absolutely need that leadership coverage. My boss and I are doing everything all night from 3pm to 7am every day we're there. He does it from 3pm to 8 when I come in, and then aside from the director-level stuff, I take over for him from 8 to 7. It is exhausting. I have done a lot in that job over the past 11 years I've worked there (for three different contracting companies, I might add) but up until now I have never had the vast majority of the actual work on shift be solely my responsibility. It is draining and soul-sucking to do the work of at least three or four different people day in, day out, for one paycheck. There is a little more gratitude for it now from the leadership, but nowhere near as much as I feel is warranted or deserved. I don't think a lot of the higher leadership realizes how much I and I alone keep that place running every week. Yes, we all do our parts, and my boss and executive director are good at their jobs, but they're not the ones working the gears behind the scenes in the hours when nobody else is awake and nobody else is responsible for everything -- that, my friends, is me and me alone. Additionally, because of that, on my nights off it is very noticeable that I'm not there handling things because shit doesn't get done, issues get dropped, questions get asked, etc. Yes, there are a couple of very capable people running the place on my nights off (including one of my closest friends) but I don't think it's that unreasonable to say that they are simply not me, and can only do about 60% of what I can do. That's not me being arrogant, it's just the facts. 

So with all that being said, I wish them luck while I'm in Canada and completely unreachable. I wish them luck when they struggle through half of October, historically one of the worst months in that job almost consistently every year. Maybe they'll finally see how much my mere presence there on shift keeps things running the way they're supposed to be. 

One of my employees -- coincidentally, the one who is my "in charge" while I'm gone -- has the running joke that something major always goes wrong when I'm out of the office. An issue will explode, we'll start having system-wide failures of applications or websites, etc -- or both. Or multiple things. Because of this I'm sort of considered overnights' good luck charm, but the other side of this coin heavily implies these things don't happen when I'm there because I'm there rectifying shit. Mind you, I can't stop it when we have a systemwide failure of something, but I can tell you that most issues do not explode because I am there to dive on those grenades before they become grenades. 

Anyway. Onward. Much more to do before the plane lifts off. 

Brandon Prepares to Conquer Canada, Part V: Flush With Cash

 At this point, my packing -- and most of my planning -- for the trip to Canada is done. Aside from a few day-of items I'll toss into my backpack and some little maintenance things here and there (i.e., re-dyeing my hair, shaping my beard, prepping the house, etc), there's nothing I have left to do. 

Daisy has taken the two days before we leave off of work so that she has time to pack and can get a little relaxation in before it's run-run-run for the week we'll be gone. I already have those two days off because of my normal work schedule, but she normally would not. 

To be fair, there's a laundry list of things that need to be done before we leave, including getting the house key back to our Catsitter and paying her for her services. Life goes on regardless of whether we'll be here or not, so even if it doesn't seem like there's a lot to do, there is -- putting a hold on the mail, setting up all the house cameras, putting travel notices on our cards, etc. Just a lot of little things. Daisy getting the breathing space to actually tackle some of those little things -- the ones I don't take care of myself -- is of utmost importance. Most of those little things are done in the few days before the trip itself -- I know this because we've taken many trips over the years. 

The Half-Price Books excursion was a success; we did it yesterday afternoon, and after about a...oh, 40-minute or so wait for them to count everything up, they gave me $130 for my several boxes of comics and books/magazines/CDs. I told Daisy that realistically that was about double what I was expecting to get, so they must have changed their magazines and comics payout policies over the course of the past year or so. I took far more stuff in there last year and got about the same amount offered to me. So, I didn't question it -- I signed off on the little slip and now I am $130 richer.

I will now be saving every single magazine and comic to take in there about once a year. After all, I used to just give them away. I will still set aside the books for my dad, of course, but everything else will go into the "take it and sell it" boxes. 

With that, I'm roughly about done with cash to take to Canada to exchange for Canadian money. What I have at this juncture, because of the exchange rate, will be enough to pay for some grocery trips, some dinners out, some special event stuff, etc. I am not personally really worried about money to cover things at this point. If I go grocery shopping between now and when we leave, and I likely will, I'll probably pull out a bit more cash back to add to it, but at this juncture I'm not exactly sure it's necessary. 

Weather has slowly tried to return to "Nebraska normal" for mid-September; this means that yes, it can and frequently does go up to 90 outside most days, but occasionally we get some rain and a blustery thunderstorm that rolls through, and most of the time I don't want to die every day if the AC isn't constantly running. I also think my body is starting to regulate the seasons' changes a little better -- I had a really bad allergy day yesterday, but I have been sleeping more and longer/harder, and I haven't had a lot of the sinus pain and pressure I usually do when the seasons begin to change -- yet. I'm still waiting for the daily nosebleeds and the pain/pressure in all of my face and teeth to really hit, because I'm sure it's coming sooner rather than later. In fact, I should likely prepare for that for Canada. 

In preparations for Canada, I mentioned that I'd been trying to find the best jerky to take with me on the trip. Well, that's done now; I found a few different brands that I like, and I stopped looking because trying multiple new kinds of vegan jerky from Amazon a few times a week is goddamn expensive. My backpack is stuffed with Trlblazer (no, not a typo) and Agro vegan jerky and "meat" sticks, and that'll be enough. 

The other reason I stopped shopping around is what it was doing to my guts. The incredibly high levels of protein in these jerkies -- consuming close to half a pound a day for a week or so on end to try different ones -- was absolutely wreaking havoc on my digestive system. I had some of the worst, most frequent, and voluminous gas I've had in years. It was unstoppable, unrelenting, and could peel paint from a wall. I'm sure you don't need to know this, but I don't particularly hold things back here on this page, so...there you go. 

In preparations for the trip, last night Daisy bleached and re-dyed her hair a super-dark sea green, leaving "peek-a-boo" sections of the purple underneath. It is dazzlingly beautiful and it looks wonderful for spooky season. I have yet to re-blacken my hair, and I have actually been trying to let the old black dye from earlier this summer fade out of it naturally as much as possible before I do so, as the undertone of that black is a dark, muddy green -- which I actually kind of like. We were going to re-dye it yesterday, but time and energy got the better of us. Today, she is at the parents' to (ironically) re-dye Mama's hair, as they're also going on a short trip to see Daisy's sister and family sometime next week, and then Daisy has to go do her kitten-feeding volunteer hours at the shelter this afternoon. 

I am stuck going in ("going in" meaning "going downstairs") to work earlier than usual tonight; my boss asked if I could cover some of the earlier evening hours because we're shorthanded, which I was happy to do. Do you sense the sarcasm there? This is, of course, something I don't want to do, but it is an obligation simply because of my position and job duties. It means I'll work a 14-hour shift, essentially. No, I'm not looking forward to it, but it is what it is. It is, as they say, part of the job sometimes.

In the time before I have to do that, while I'm here home alone, I have made sure to take care of some of the other chores around the house -- I am running a cleaning cycle on the washing machine, I have stripped and washed/dried the sheets and blankets for the bed, and I am currently backing up my hard drive. If I didn't have to go to work early tonight, once Daisy got off her shift at the shelter, we were going to go get flu shots. Well, that can't happen now, so I guess she'll be going to get one without me and I will just wing it and pray I don't get the flu -- at least for a bit, anyhow. I can do it next Saturday morning, but as I told Daisy, I will not be leaving the house when WVU is playing a big game on national network television in the afternoon hours, so it's either we do it really early in the morning or it doesn't get done.

You may think that's silly of me, but I meter out my time on Saturdays meticulously, and when there's an event that I plan to participate in or attend or a task I must accomplish, it's because I have no other time during the week for it or it is something that specifically happens that very day at a preset time, and it is what it is. 

For example -- I need to mow the grass one last time before we leave for Canada. I've got two weeks with which to do this. Next Saturday, if I'm getting my flu shot and the game is on in the afternoon, is out -- there will be no time and I will not have the energy. It's also supposed to rain and storm for the next three days (though at this juncture, nothing severe is predicted). So, that means Thursday would likely be too wet to mow, Friday might be okay if stuff dries out enough, and Saturday I have to do the above aforementioned things. Sunday, I have to go back to work again so doing anything that's going to destroy and sap all of my energy out of me is a no-go before I have to work a 12-hour shift overnight. The following weekend I'll be on a plane. So...yeah, not happening. 

So, yes, things have to be metered and meticulously planned because there are only so many times and time slots I can actually do these things. 

And of course, have to re-blacken the hair too, which given the schedule now won't happen until at least Thursday night because of my work schedule as well as Daisy's. 

I didn't sign up for this much "being an adult" horseshit. When I was younger I was perfectly content to believe that being an adult would mean I'd have a lot more free time, not a lot less. Jesus, I can't imagine how quickly I would've lost my marbles if I'd had kids instead of cats. I'm tired enough as it is now. 

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.

[EDIT: The vet, upon Pete's latest bloodwork, let us know that he is still in stage 2, not stage 3 yet, of kidney disease, and that his thyroid levels look better than he's ever seen. All other bloodwork looks great, so keeping everything at the levels we're at now is going to be a key to Pete's continued longevity. Next checkup, barring any unforeseen circumstances, is in January sometime.]

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.

[EDIT: That consultation is now scheduled for October 2.] 

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.