The benefits of getting to know your neighbours (the Canadian spelling)

Sir Fuzz-butt, The Sparkinator

At o'dark-hundred this morning when Sparky and I headed out for his first walk of the day, I noticed a young woman standing outside the main entrance of the south tower in our complex. She was holding a charming, and judging by the size of his or her feet, a soon-to-be much larger, black puppy in her arms.

“I forgot my keys,” she explained.

December in Canada is dark and chilly. Luckily today’s temperature was not the bone-freezing cold that we can get, but was too cold to be stuck outside.

“My fob will get you inside the lobby, but I don’t think it will work for the elevator,” I said, as Sparky and I crossed the driveway to her building.

My electronic fob unlatched the main door, and we continued across the lobby to the elevators hoping that maybe, just maybe, I could activate the elevator for her floor.

December morning

Nope! It wouldn’t open the stairway doors either, so she had to hang out in the lobby until another resident from her building arrived and activated the elevators. It’s the downside to living in a moderately secure complex. No electronic fob. No access. 

It’s happened to me, and a few others.

“Do you know any of your neighbours? Someone that you can call on the intercom, and ask for help?” I asked.

“Not really,” she said.

And that isn’t surprising in a city, even a small-ish city of 40,000 residents. It’s easy to just nod a greeting and keep walking.

Beatty St before condo conversion

But, I’m a small-town girl at heart. Many of the places that I have lived were less than 5000 residents and I knew enough people that I could get whatever help I needed. 

Even when Lawrie and I lived in a converted warehouse on Beatty Street in downtown Vancouver, we made a point of getting to know the other residents. It started with a building-wide roaming cocktail party that turned into close friendships that lasted for many years.

Close friends, Isla Mujeres

In 2007, when we moved to live full-time on Isla Mujeres, Mexico, we knew only four people and they were snowbirds, living on the island from November to April. The next winter we hosted a neighbourhood party, inviting everyone in our area who had just built, or who were currently building a house. Within a year our Bachilleres neighbourhood had become known for its roving house parties, group gatherings, and tight-knit friendships.

Trish, Tina, and me, wine-touring

Here in Penticton, I have made a point of befriending many of the residents in our condo complex, and their pets. We are each other’s safety net. If one of us is not feeling well, the others volunteer to walk pets, fetch groceries, or just check on the person. Some of us socialize regularly. Some meet up for food and drinks occasionally. And others just chat in the hallways.

Many people live on their own in this complex, people of a variety of ages, and a variety of backgrounds. It’s nice to know that some of those folks are watching out for me, and I am also watching out for them.

Wherever you live, you should get to know the other folks living near you. You could make a lasting friendship.

Merry Christmas! Seasons Greeting! Happy New Year to all!

Lynda

Sparky sends his woofs!

Sparky, one of the main characters in my novels

Sparky's Epic Adventure Across North America (St. Stephens & Sunset Tides New Brunswick)

 June 11th: Staying at the Sunset Tides.

Sparky and I have a choice of two lovely bedrooms, our own kitchen, an enormous bathroom/shower, laundry facilities, and multiple choices of how to make my coffee. Espresso. Kuereg. Or standard filter. Amazing. The hosts Angela and Aaron are warm, welcoming people. The property has a beach where guests can have a bonfire (unless the no-campfire regulation is in effect).

The nightly rate for this beautiful two-bedroom seaside apartment is cheaper than a scruffy Howard Johnson in downtown Bangor Maine.

Until now, I had no idea how beautiful this area is between St. Stephen's and St. Andrew's in New Brunswick. It's a good thing that Lawrie isn't here with me. We'd probably drink a bottle of wine, find a real estate salesperson, and buy a house on the waterfront. Several of our real estate deals were purchased just like that.... in the Okanagan BC, Montreal Quebec, and Mexico.

As I have said, this area is gorgeous!

Welcome sign at Sunset Tides

One of two lovely bedrooms

Kitchen, living area, and coffee bar!

View at Sunset Tides New Brunswick

 

Milltown / St. Stephen's New Brunswick 

Milltown St. Stephen's NB

Sparky - Milltown NB

Sparky's Epic Adventure Across North America (West Virginia)

 May 31st Charleston West Virginia, state capitol.

I only drove 200 miles this day, because of a restless sleep the previous night. I stopped in Charleston West Virginia, and checked into the first hotel that I could find.

The Hawthorne Suites was interesting for a chain-style hotel. Every room was equipped with dishes, a proper fridge, and a microwave, plus had the use of the outside BBQs and patio seating. Judging by the number of company trucks, I think their clientele was primarily people on work assignments who were living at the hotel. It was a great place to overnight.

Sparky charming the front desk ladies

Charleston West Virginia Governor's mansion

The dome of the capitol building

Across the river at Charleston WV

The capitol grounds, Charleston West Virginia

Sparky's Epic Adventure Across North America (Tennessee back to Kentucky)

May 29th traveling between Lebanon Tennessee and Berea Kentucky. The fun part of traveling with Miss Google telling me where to go, is she also says things like: Speed trap ahead! Thanks, Miss Google.

Crosses in front of church for Memorial Day service

Sparky's Epic Adventure Across North America (Kentucky)

May 26th, day 26 of Sparky's Epic Adventure. We wandered through more of Missouri, and a bit of Illinois, then overnighted in Paducah Kentucky. I took the scenic backroads today so we were 7 hours on the road.

Before we left Paducah in the morning, we roamed around the historic area of Paducah. It was a Saturday, and the market was in operation. I purchased a metal dog sculpture from the artist to add to our overloaded car! What was I thinking?

On the backroads

Paducah Kentucky market

Ewin Ledbetter and my new dog

Historic area of Paducah Kentucky

Historic area of Paducah Kentucky

Sparky's first Christmas - final excerpt Chapter 9

 

Chapter 9

Life is good!

What an exciting day. I played gently with my Christmas gifts because I didn’t want to hurt them. Tommy and Chica raced around the bedroom shredding the wrapping paper and chasing the pieces blown by the warm tropical wind. Servant and Driver laughed at their silly antics.

Chica batted her catnip mouse and her little foam balls across the room, back and forth, until they got stuck under furniture. She was only five years old, and had a lot of energy.

“Never mind, Chica, Servant said. “I’ll get them for you later.”

Tommy discovered canned shrimp and a bag of catnip in his stocking. The catnip made him very playful for a few minutes and then he fell asleep. Maybe because he is fourteen years old, he gets tired faster.

Later in the morning we had breakfast, played together in the kitchen, and then everyone including Servant and Driver had a siesta. Early in the afternoon I could smell delicious aromas coming from the barbeque in the courtyard. Driver was slowly roasting the turkey for our Christmas dinner. In my previous home, I didn’t know what that smell was or where it was coming from, and it made me drool with hunger. Now I was here, in this house, and I am going to eat some of that delicious meat. What a lucky doggie.

After sundown the festive lights on our palm trees created a fairyland of light and color in our yard. Beautiful music drifted through the house, and our people sang about funny things I had never heard of; snowmen, one-horse-sleighs, and jingle bells.

A few of Servant and Driver’s friends came over and we ate a tasty dinner exactly like Chica had described. Turkey is amazing! It was the best meal I had ever eaten. The humans talked, laughed, clinked their glasses together and wished each other a Merry Christmas. ¡Feliz Navidad!

I slowly drifted off to sleep clutching my new stuffed toy. I was grateful, happy, and very sleepy. I thought about all the people and animals who had never known so much love.

Merry Christmas. ¡Feliz Navidad!

 

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Learning the rules - excerpt from A Surprise Gift, Sparky's story

 

Chapter 7

Learning the rules

“Buen diá Princesa Chica. ¿Cómo está?” I said, “Good day Princess Chica. How are you?”

“¿Estoy bien, gracias, y tú?” Chica answered me in cat-Spanish and I understood. She had said she was doing well, thank you, and then asked how I was.

I was so pleased I couldn’t stop my tail from doing its helicopter-spin of happiness. “I’m very well thank you,” I replied, then I noticed she was sitting beside a little tree that was covered in cute decorations.

“Oh, that’s a good idea, an indoor bathroom for pets,” I said. “But why is it sitting on a table? It should be on the floor.”

“No!” Chica quickly said. “This is our Christmas tree, un árbol de Navidad. Our humans would be upset if you peed on it.”

“Really?” I put my front paws on the low wooden table and gave the tree a sniff. It didn’t smell anything like a real tree. “What’s a Christmas tree?” I asked.

“It is part of the decorations our humans display at this time of the year.”

“So, Servant and Driver are also Decorators? Do we call them Decorator One and Decorator Two?” The rules of my new home were very puzzling. And why shouldn’t I pee on the tree? That’s what trees were for.

“No,” Chica answered, “she’s always Servant and he’s always Driver. Tommy says we don’t want to confuse them.”

“Si, now I remember. He told me that humans are difficult to train.” I agreed.

“Si, very difficult,” she agreed. “Tommy is very smart, and you should always listen to his advice.”

“I will,” I said, carefully studying the fancy tree. I still didn’t understand why I couldn’t use it for my indoor bathroom.

“We are extra lucky because we were born in Mexico and there are many winter celebrations, not just Christmas,” Chica said. “The holiday season starts with December 12th, Día de la Virgen de Guadalupe- Virgin of Guadalupe Day. Then, December 16^th to the 24^th is the Posadas, the procession recreating the journey of Mary and Joseph, and December 24^th, Nochebuena or Christmas Eve is when Mexican families have their special feasts. Our people and many of their friends are called Gringos and they have their feast on December 25^th.”

“Is that when the people create loud noises?  Lots of booms and bangs?”

“Yes, fireworks scare me,” Chica answered.

“I usually just hide under something and try to sleep,” I said.

“Me too!” Chica said. “The best part of the holiday season is that our people like to invite their friends and some of their cat-friendly dogs to a party at our house. They laugh, play music, sing, and eat lots of yummy foods.”

“I don’t think my first human had a lot of money. We never had a party,” I said, wistfully. “Parties sound like a lot of fun.”

“Si,” she agreed, “and our humans also go to our friends’ houses to celebrate.”

“Do you get invited too?” I asked.

“Tommy and I are invited to the parties that are close by,” she said, “We follow Servant and Driver along the beach.”

“What else do you do to celebrate?” I asked.

“My goodness you ask a lot of silly questions!” Chica flicked her tail and glared at me.

“I’m sorry. I just don’t understand everything about my new life yet.” I said, “please be patient with me.”

She sighed, “Yes, you’re right. I’m sorry. We were all strays at one time.” She licked one paw and cleaned her whiskers.

I was fascinated. She knew how to self-clean just like Tommy. Maybe she could teach me, but not right now, because she was still talking about the holidays.

“And there are parades with funny costumes,” she said, “and music, and people tossing candy for the children and their parents. Many people go to a building called a church and sing nice songs,” she added. “It’s a very busy time on the island, but we enjoy the excitement. My favorite day is Christmas Day. We get presents in the morning, then we eat turkey and sweet potatoes at dinner time.”

“Turkey? What’s that?” I asked.

“Turkey is awesome! It’s a huge bird that is roasted for hours and then we feast on it. Servant, Driver, Tommy, me, and of course you this year. We eat and eat, and then fall asleep.” Just thinking about the upcoming feast made Chica feel sleepy. She stretched and yawned, “the celebrations continue until January 6^th Día de Reyes, when the Mexican children receive their presents from the three kings.”

“Presents? What are presents?”

“Presents are my favorite,” she replied with a sly grin. “You’ll see.”

Oh no, I really don’t like it when a cat gives me a sneaky smile. I am pretty sure it means something bad for me, like another visit to the cat-doctor.

Maybe I should just hide outside in the bushes on Christmas day.

 To be continued ...

Happy Holidays and Seasons Greetings

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Woof, woof, Sparky

I'm a hero! - excerpt from A Surprise Gift, Sparky's story

 

I’m a hero!

“I’m going rollerblading,” Servant said to Driver. 

(Servant and Driver are the names that Thomas the Cat gave our humans when he first met them.) 

Servant was carrying a pair of boots that had a row of wheels attached to the bottom, thick gloves, a hard thing like the moto drivers wear on their heads, and a broom.

“What’s the broom for?” Driver asked.

Good question. Why would she need a broom? I wondered.

“For sweeping the concrete pad at the park,” she replied. “The little kids like to toss pebbles onto the concrete. If my blades hit the stones I might trip.”

“Okay, have a good time,” he said.

Wagging my tail excitedly I waited for her to clip my leash to my collar and take me along. I have no clue what rollerblading is but I want to go with her.

“No, Sparky, you have to stay home and look after the house,” she said.

I tucked my tail, and slunk into my hiding place under the sofa. When she says those words, I know I must stay home with the cats.

Servant bent over and looked under the sofa, “don’t worry Sparky, we’ll go for a golf cart ride later.”

I gave her my sad-eyed-don’t-leave-me look, but she just smiled at me and shut the door.

A short time later I heard a horrible shrieking noise coming from someplace down the street. Oh no! I think Servant is hurt. I raced around the living room, looking for an exit. All the doors were tightly closed. Then I jumped onto the kitchen table, and slammed my broad shoulders through partially open window. It hurt! A lot! But I had to save my friend, Servant.

“Sparky! Stop!” Driver shouted at me.

I didn’t stop. I dashed outside and listened. There. More screams. Oh no, I hope I can save her. I ran south towards the little park where I sometimes swim in the ocean.

I ran, and ran, over the sharp rocks. Over the big stones. Over the sand, and through the prickly bushes. Suddenly the screaming stopped.

Panting and frightened, I raced into the park searching frantically for my human.

Then I heard Servant’s laughter coming from the street.

“She’s so cute. But my goodness, she’s noisy.” Servant said. She was standing beside a man and his daughter. They were all looking down at a small dog.

What an ugly dog. It was pink and hairless and made snorting noises like those dogs with the squished faces. It had two toes on each foot, that looked dangerously sharp. The man picked up the weird dog and it started to scream, again. “She doesn’t like to be picked up. But, she’s still too little to jump in the car on her own.”

Servant noticed me, “Sparky, what are you doing here?” She patted her thigh to call me to her, but I stayed back. My feet were planted. My sharp fangs were ready to use. I was prepared to spring into action if that pink dog attacked Servant.

“There he is,” said Driver as he parked the golf cart beside us. “When the screaming started Sparky jumped on the table and barged his way through the window. The one that we leave locked open, just wide enough for the cats to come and go. It was a very tight fit for Sparky.”

The man stuffed his weird little dog inside his car and the shrieks stopped. “I’m really sorry about the awful noise,” he said with a little shrug of his shoulders.

“It’s no problem,” Servant said, then bent down and called me to her. “Sparky baby, did you bruise your shoulders when you forced your way out of the window?”

“Guau-guau, jau-jau,” I answered. I was sore, but very relieved that she was okay.

“You are my hero! You saved me from the piglet,” she said with a wide grin.

Her hero! I felt very important. That piglet must be a very dangerous animal. It certainly sounded dangerous.

Driver and Servant waved goodbye to the man and we headed back home in our golf cart. A little later we had lunch at Ballyhoo Restaurante in Centro, to celebrate.

Servant said we were celebrating me being her hero!

Woof, woof, Sparky

Read more of my stories in this book available on Amazon! 

And there are 8 mysteries novels that feature me! 

The chore that I hate the most!

Cleaning the inside of my car is not my favourite chore, okay it's my least favourite chore. I would rather do anything else than clean the inside of my car.

Today I spent a frustrating hour contorting my body to scour out some of Sparky’s accumulated dog hair from under the dash, on the floor mats, and under or between the seats. I scrubbed at pawprints, and vacuumed up some of the sand and gravel that he tracked inside my pretty blue Mazda 3. 

And that got me to thinking about the cars of my childhood. When I was a little kid, Dad owned a 1950 beige serviceable Ford, it might have been a Customline Ford. It was a functional vehicle barely big enough for two adults, four growing daughters and the family dog. 

We as kids were frequently assigned the job of washing the car and cleaning the windows inside and out. I don't remember my mother owning a vacuum until the mid to late fifties. Yes, the car was Dad’s and the vacuum was Mom’s. It was the 1950’s. 

So, how did we clean the inside of the car? Think about it. Two adults who smoked in the vehicle with the windows rolled up. Four messy noisy kids. And a farty Cocker Spaniel who shed, a lot. 

Somewhere in the late 1950’s Mom eventually got a big awkward Hoover Constellation vacuum, but the back alley where we cleaned the family automobile didn’t have electricity so vacuuming the inside would have been impossible. In 1955 Dad was able to upgrade to a maroon-coloured two-door 1955 Oldsmobile Super-88. He was pretty darn proud of that car. 

I remember one Saturday morning when dad told us to wash and wax The Oldsmobile. We very industriously applied wax to the entire vehicle, only to discover that was the worst possible scenario. The particular type of wax that we were given was to be applied in small areas, and then buffed off as soon as the surface clouded. We scrubbed furiously at the hard wax in hopes of removing it before Dad discovered our mistake. 

Yeah, no such luck. He was less than impressed when he had to apply his muscles to remove the mess. 

Our next family automobile was a smaller sportier one, a Mercury Meteor. There were only two of the four daughters at home by that time, plus another family dog who also shed, a lot more than the Cocker Spaniel. The Mercury Meteor didn’t last long because dad was long-legged and the car was too small. 

The final family car was a big, long, boat of a thing, a copper-coloured 1967 Dodge Monaco. And we still had the big white dog who shed an amazing about of fur, and who went with us whenever possible. 

 

Our driveway didn’t have an electrical outlet and I am pretty sure Dad wouldn’t have spent money on someone else cleaning his car, when he had two healthy, strong teenage daughters living at home. 

I’ve driven and owned a wild assortment of vehicles since I became a licenced driver those many, many years ago; everything from two-hundred-dollar junker, to this 1915 Overland delivery truck, to an expensive Aston Martin. 

I love the freedom of owning a car. 

I just hate to clean the inside.

Cheers, Lynda and The Mucky Sparkinator

A little wine research and development: CORKED

Friday was research and development day for my newest novel, Corked. 

It's a murder-mystery set in a local, but fictitious, winery. 

With over three hundred wineries in British Columbia Canada, it was a challenge to pick a name for my winery, that wasn't already in use. I decided to use one of Lawrie's favourite expressions, and called it the No Regrets Winery. It is supposedly located in the southern part of the Okanagan Valley. 

For authenticity in the story I picked the brains of my winey-friends Prudence Mayer owner of Ruby Blues on the Naramata Bench, in Penticton, Sharon Hickey who works at Ruby Blues, plus wine consultant and long-time friend, Eric von Krosigk at Frind Estate in West Kelowna. 

Sharon Hickey and Kerry Younie - let's go!

This past week was bottling time at Ruby Blues for their whites, Gewürztraminer, Grüner Veltliner, Viognier, Riesling, and White Stiletto. Sparky and I received an invite to pop out and watch the action, so we did. Early Friday morning I drove to the property just in time to see the crew start the process. What an amazing operation. 

Rudy tipped the clean bottles onto the line, to be whisked away and cleaned, then filled, capped and capsuled. The bottles automatically made their way along the line until they arrived at the boxing station where Sharon Hickey and Kerry Younie checked each one for correct placement of the labels, and that it had been filled to the proper level, then added six each to the case before it passed under the taping device and slid down the line to be stacked on the wooden pallet. Wine-maker, Blair Gillingham took turns with Melanie, Spencer, Paul, and Prudence lifting and stacking the boxes. 

The hard-working crew were flying to keep up with the speeding bottles. At the end of the day they had bottled eighteen pallets of wine. 

That equals 18 pallets x 56 boxes on each pallet x 12 bottles in each box or 12096 bottles of yummy Ruby Blues wine. So, 12096 times in one day someone picked up a bottle, examined the label and the fill line, then placed it in the box. That's a shoulder-killing repetitive movement all for our sakes, so that we can enjoy the delicious product. 

Video of bottling line and workers in action.

When you read Corked, keep them in mind.

The automated line is the brain-child of Norman Cole, founder and owner of Artus Bottling Ltd. Started in 2005 the company provides a much-needed, mobile beverage bottling for the small to medium-sized wineries and cideries in the Okanagan Valley. Without this service many of the smaller companies struggled with maintaining their own equipment for use two a year; once in the spring to bottle the whites, and again in the fall to package up the reds.

Ruby Blues Wine & Gift Shop

In a few days, I will pop back out to Ruby Blues Winery to purchase a few bottles of their newest releases. 

Cheers 

Lynda and The Sparkinator

Want more info? Check the webpage for Ruby Blues https://www.rubyblueswinery.ca/

Frind Estate in West Kelowna webpage https://www.frindwinery.com/

 

CORKED 

Book #1 of the Death in the Vineyards series

coming soon!

Cover design by Mary Fry Designs