Postcards from the Edge

"Postcards from the Edge" was a movie from 1990, based on a semi-autobiographical novel by Carrie Fisher (Princess Leia in Star Wars for you young-uns) that she wrote in 1987.  Today's blog has absolutely nothing in common with that information, except that it popped into my head as a cool name for today's blog.

Taken from Watch Hill (which my bad vision saw as Witch Hill...which didn't make much sense)

Another day off, another day with no excuse to not blog.  I had lots of good chats with friends from abroad today before throwing myself out the door to hop on the scooter and take my first pictures of April.  The camera has been idle as of late, much like its owner.  It wasn't overly warm, and I only had an hour or so before I was due to do other tasks, so I decided to just head down South Shore road and snap photos things I had missed along the way on my last photography day.  There was no real theme...the photos aren't particularly arty, but I thought they would make good postcards...from the edge of this rock in the Atlantic.  And so you have it, today's postcards from the edge.

To start with I stopped at St. Mark's Church and had a nice little chat with some brave tourists on a scooter, map in hand, saying "I don't think this is the Church."  One can always tell the tourists, for aside from the map in hand, rental scooters have a logo on the side, a white and red license plate to remind the locals to give them a break and a wide berth, plus the bucket style helmet also with a logo.  "Which church are you looking for?" I offered.  "I don't know, it was shown on the cruise ship TV and it's old."  "Well, there are over 300 on the island, but you are probably looking for one of the following 3..."  I plotted out a route for them with the churches and forts and best scenic spots for them for their day and saw them scoot off on their Bermuda adventure.  I stayed behind to take a few more pictures of the interesting stonework of the Church...and some cool Bermuda vines that make their way over or through pretty much anything.

This is how things grow in Bermuda

The entry way was welcoming.

One of the entrances to St. Mark's

The stone was smooth.

All of the stone looked smooth and...soft.  Neat look.

The flowers think it's spring.

Lots of flowers around the grounds, all quite pretty

I decided to scoot up the road a bit further to John Smith's Bay...a beach that is very popular in the summer, and one I have never photographed before.

John Smith's Bay

The water was choppy with all the wind, but the Bermuda blues were on full display and the colours are still stunningly beautiful to me, even after all these years.

A little area to the side of John Smith's Bay by the parking lot

These are the last postcards from the edge of my rock...for today at least.

Bermuda...the untouched areas are the most gorgeous

Bermuda Misadventures!

One of the benefits of having a scooter is ease of transport.  No waiting on buses, no long walks from the bus stop to the final destination.  Being on a scooter in Bermuda is freedom in all it's 35 km/hr glory.  My friend Siobhan does not have a scooter, and as with some of the scooterless, does not always get into all of the nooks and crannies of the island to explore.  And so we decided we would have and adventure.  We pre-planned for a mutual day off with the idea to go exploring some new areas.  Long on my list to see was "Hog's Bay Park," which is a little sign I see just off the side of the road in Southampton.  The only feedback I have ever heard is that one should not go alone.  I need to start listening to subtle clues.

When the long awaited day of adventure arrived, I scooted down the road, thinking about the places Siobhan might not have seen that we could stop at as well, planning a lovely day in my head.  A few minutes later I realized that I had forgotten Siobhan, and had to turn the scooter around to go pick her up.  This is a good example of foreshadowing.  Once I had Siobhan and we carried down the road, she quickly forgot any hard feelings about being forgotten, and our excitement spilled over when we stopped for gas and answered "We're going on an adventure!" when the attendant asked where we were going.  He said to be careful, and next time to bring more ladies.  I don't think the scooter is really meant to hold many more people, but I left him to his whimsical ideas.

The first stop was the Fairmont Southampton Princess for lunch.  The lobby bar/restaurant Jasmine is always a nice place to stop for food.  Not speedy, but nice, and perfect when you have a leisurely afternoon ahead.  We were seated at the window, but the tourists were outside on the balcony enjoying what was relatively warm to them.  Dining with them, were...ducks!

Dining with ducks at the Fairmont Southampton Princess

And a few kiskadees.  These bright yellow and black birds have a distinctive call, and often wake me up mornings, occasionally photo bomb my pictures, and never let me get a good shot.  While they were focused on lunch, I finally got a few good shots.  Here is one.

Ready to dine and dash

Inside the lobby of the hotel I came across this neat 3D turtle.  It has an interesting story.  A sick turtle was found on the surface of the water around Bermuda.  A hyperinflation of the lungs made it so that it could not dive down below the surface of the water.  A good Samaritan brought it to the zoo, which has a rehab program for wild critters.  Rumor has it, that in their quest to find out what was wrong with it, that it was snuck into a CT Scanner somewhere on the island (and didn't want to sit still on the table).  The resulting CT films were used by an artist to do this 3D reconstruction...it is like wire inside a pane of glass to represent each layer, with the panes of glass stacked on top of each other.  The turtle eventually was healed, and released back into the wild, but this "sculpture" is on display to encourage donations to the rehabilitation program.

Off we went to Hog's Bay Park.  There was a Park's vehicle out front, which I thought was a good sign, indicating that upkeep was underway.  We followed a little trail...which ended a few paces later at a derelict house, with a lone ash tree, and the sounds of ne'er-do-wells inside the derelict building.  "What kind of a park is this?"  Siobhan said, clearly disappointed.  "I can't believe it," I said, as we walked back the way we came.

Shibby making the most of the adventure at first, standing in front of boarded up building

  But then I saw a little stepping stone path and thought we had gone the wrong way.  So we followed the stepping stones...around the other side of the derelict house and into the same dead end back yard.  Confused, and disappointed in our adventure thus far, we looked around to see if we had things wrong.  The sign clearly stated that this was the park.  A few rough looking youths peered out at us from trees and then ran back to the derelict house.  The only possibility was that maybe the park was beyond the field that ran alongside the parking lot and further back.

Derelict building and a lone ash tree on our quest for Hog's Bay Park

And so we headed down along the field, crossed it's end, saw the same girl pop out of the trees and dart back in, cell phone in hand, and became pretty sure our location was being reported and that little good could come of this.  Curiosity spurred us at a rapid walking pace through the trees at the end of the field...to which we found a lime kiln and numerous other paths between other fields.  I wasn't sure what a lime kiln was, but it sounded like a good place for a body dump, so I didn't linger too long.  Turns out that a lime kiln is used to make lime.  This is done by heating limestone, which Bermuda has, and the lime was later used in mortar for building.  A much less dodgy prospect that my original thought.

The Lime Kiln

Shibby's sense of appreciation for the alleged park had faded by now

It was impossible to enjoy the idea of walking along these other fields in the hopes that something park like would emerge as my mind was otherwise occupied wondering if my bike would be stripped or stolen by the time we got back, because the kids were clearly up to no good.  We walked as fast as we could back to the bike, past some more rustling bushes where the same kid furtively tried to hide when we turned back, and called that a write off.

However, there would still be time for other adventures!  We drove a little further up the road and saw the sign for Wadson's Farm.  I had never gone there before, but imagined a petting zoo of sorts, or at least free range chickens sunning themselves in lovely Bermuda and laying the odd egg in their free time.  Unfortunately all we found was a little store with a closed sign.  No sign of cage free chickens either.

I was starting to get nervous as I felt providing some new scenery was my duty.  I thought it would be nice to drive up to Port Royal Golf course and look over the edge of the earth.  It was kind of windy, and had someone else been around to take a picture we could have done a "Thelma and Louise" shot of the scooter and the edge and the sunset...but Thelma had to take the picture, and as Louise, there was no point in driving over the edge like kamikaze without Thelma, so we lived another day.

If I knew how to pop a wheelie, I would have done it for this shot

The day was not turning out to be the adventure we had hoped for.  But, a little further down the road we found the turn off for Vesey Nature Preserve.  I wasn't sure what was back there but it seemed like a good thing to check out.  We pulled into the parking lot and saw a little clearing, and had passed some ladies in exercise clothes on the way in so were sure we were off on a nature path this time.

Down the stairs looking for the trailhead

We walked into the little clearing, pushing aside some poky weeds that were as tall as us and made our way to what we thought was the trail head.  Instead we found a somewhat stinky little swamp and a dead end.  Siobhan was not impressed with the parks system at this point.

A disgruntled Shibby at the edge of the swamp

View from the edge of the swamp...leading back to the bike

The good news is that the clearing is a deceptive lead...if one heads up a little trail on the other side of a parking lot there is a reward.  To start with, there is an actual sign.

Entrance to the Vesey Nature Presume...a park at last!

In fact, we found several signs on the trail which loops around and gives you one or two options along the way.  We stuck to the left and made our way down the the cliff, past a limestone quarry, and back up to the lookout.  At this point we were actually having a really nice time, and had salvaged our adventure day.

Another sign!  Our lucky day!

Signs signs everywhere.  This one explains a limestone quarry at its edge

A gorgeous day...which has been lacking ever since...maybe tomorrow

An elevated platform to enjoy the view

Of course it was a little unnerving when we found this sign next as Siobhan was in sandals and shorts.  It may be beneficial to post this at the start of the trail rather than the end of the trail, but the powers that be apparently did not agree.  Fortunately we must have missed it because there were no complaints later on.

Perhaps more useful at the beginning of the trail rather than the end

We swore to have a better adventure the next time!  But in the end it was worth it for the view.

Smooth as glass in places on this fine day

Too Much To Do!

First off, I apologize if you are reading this twice.  I have changed computers, and with my new mobile and lightweight surface pro comes a slightly smaller and very flat keyboard that I am still learning.  I inadvertently hit wrong keys on it still, and therefore published my idle chatter earlier before I was through.  I will say...I learned how to type on one of those very very old school typewriters, where the keys were mounted on a metal post that actually caused a metal key to strike against a ribbon and make an ink mark on a page...you know, the kind where you had to push a key down about 2 inches to make a letter, and then manually pull the carriage back to the left at the end of the line instead of hitting the return key.  So my fingers feel like elephant feet on this paper thin and slightly narrower keyboard.

These days have been busy and the blog has been idle...but fear not, I have been on the move.  Well...after I get the requisite sleep I require post op.  I started the week off sleeping 14 hours (plus a 2 hr nap) and have whittled that down to 8 hours.  I finally discovered the pathology report in my email which explained exactly what happened during that long nap in the Mass General OR.  As I read it, they found a wee tumor and removed it, but also pulled out the entire thyroid and checked all of the other areas.  This is a good thing, but I think that involved a thyroid disconnect and reconnect, which is my excuse for sleeping too much lately.  Either way, it is time to wake up, and so I have managed to do all sorts of things this week, including a return to the gym (which has been painted and has all new staff during my 3 month absence), unpacking, and staying on top of things around the house.  Today's man task has been trying to figure out how I managed to use the entire 110GB hard drive of my surface pro in just transferring some of the files from my old beat up laptop.  I suspect it's the raw photos, but not sure til I finish trying to upload to this skydrive thing...which only accepts 400 pictures at a time (I sometimes take 2000 a month).

I also managed to nail down my final day of work, which will be July 8th.  My head is already thinking ahead to what needs to be done when I get back there.  And of course where to go and get lost next.  I have picked the landing point as Saskatchewan, and the first step will be to get all of the furballs there.  This will take 2 flights.  Apparently there is a 2 cat per cabin rule...so will have to book that up soon to secure passage for them home.

I have also managed to find my way into work, dodge the first cockroaches of spring which I believe were stalking me in my neighbourhood, fill skydrive without successfully making enough room on my surface pro, and realize how many other things I need to get done on my day off on Sunday.  Oh yeah...and write a meaningful blog with pretty pictures.  I was going to do that yesterday.  Fail.  This one is just to say I am still alive.  I will try to do better tomorrow!

Why Did the Chicken Cross the Road?

It's an age old question after all.  I never really wondered before why it was important enough for the first person to have asked why the chicken crossed the road.  Does it matter what side of the road the chicken is on?  Well, as I discovered barrelling down Cambridge Road on a fully loaded scooter (1 Jenny, 1 Siobhan), the point at which it matters why the chicken crosses the road is when you realize that the chicken is on the road and that impact is imminent.  Possibly due to my post surgical status I may have had a decreased range of motion in my neck and not sighted the chicken soon enough.  I laid on full brakes and willed my scooter to stop.  Shibby let out a little gasp of horror.  And the chicken leaped into the air and fully splayed his body out in mid air in front of the tire while letting out a death cluck "te-GAAAAAWK."  At that point I closed my eyes and squeezed the brakes even harder.  "Oh my God.  Did we just hit a chicken?" I said.  At a full stop but unable to turn my head to look behind I peered over the handlebars looking for evidence of feathers in my tire.  Shibby, who WAS able to turn her head more than 45 degrees said "No, he's still going."  "Whew, I thought we might have grazed him...it was close."  The chicken was indignant, but most definitely alive and at worst missing a wing feather, and gave no sign of explaining why he chose to dart into traffic at that particular moment.

random chicken hanging out in Bermuda

Bermuda actually has a lot of feral chickens.  As I understand it, someone's chickens got loose when a hurricane damaged their enclosure, and now the little critters roam everywhere.  Well, they used to until Bermuda got into culling chickens, via poison I believe.  All that glitters is not gold they say, and that is true enough.  Bermuda is beautiful, but there are times that it needs to be called to task for its policies.  The chicken cull is one of those times.  I see far less chickens than I used to, and I fear the tactics used were grim.  Even Fido, who used to hop on my shoe looking for crumbs when I sat outside for coffee at work, has disappeared.  Security said the lab staff were the worst culprits in encouraging the chickens...I will admit they did start following anyone wearing dark blue scrubs.

Animal cruelty is not addressed frequently enough in Bermuda.  While there are many diligent people and groups working to help animals, there is still much to be done.  One thing Bermuda IS being called to task for today though, is that international notice has been made of a long standing raw sewage drain that goes directly into the ocean off of Hungry Bay.  Today the media announced that the US Consulate is warning American traveller's of this, that the bacterial levels can reach 4 times the acceptable US standard leading to infections, and that traveller's should consider Hepatitis A and typhoid shots.  Two other headlines claim "Bathing in Bermuda's water does not pose a health risk - Govt," and "Bermudian scientist calls for more testing," but neither discuss another important element.  In 2014, should a country which prides itself as a tourist product showcasing beautiful beach beauty be pumping raw sewage into the ocean near those same beaches and its famous coral reef?  Health reasons aside, is this appropriate in this day and age from an environmental aspect, from a marketing and tourism aspect as well?  I don't think people really need to go out and get a typhoid shot (my guesstimate on risk assessment is that recommendation is overkill), but I do think there is a better solution, and I do think Bermuda needs to get its act together and find it.  I realize it costs money at a bad time in the island's finances, but it will cost even more in the future.  This truly is a stain on Bermuda's famous pink undershorts as far as international appeal goes.  I hope to see a speedy response, and kudos to the consulate for applying pressure where it is due.

That's my commentary on the local news today. Time to go to work.

Just an Ordinary Day

"The stars are windows from heaven where angels peek through" 



It was an ordinary morning 5 years ago today.  A cup of coffee on the couch, staying in as everything still looked white and cold outside.  There was no sign of spring in sight.  I called home and my Dad answered the phone and related where everyone was and what they were all doing.  Not far into the conversation I heard the other extension pick up.  "Hi Beag!" Jaycena said, using a nickname for me.  She reminded me that this was the weekend volleyball tournament that she was playing in and had been looking forward too for a couple of weeks.  She told me how it had been going so far, which games were left to play, and after a few minutes left the conversation to go back to me and my Dad.  She broke back in and said "Bye Beag, love you."  "Love you too, have fun."  I remember remarking to my Dad after that what an awesome kid she was, as it never ceased to amaze me that she never went through a phase where she was too old or too cool to make time for her aunts and uncles and grandparents and cousins, and never dropped the affectionate banter when she turned 14, or 15, or 16.  She had brightened my day, as always.

I didn't know, on that ordinary morning 5 years ago, that that was our last goodbye.  I didn't know that I would receive a phone call that night that would forever change who I am, and everyone who knew her and her friends Brooke and Laramie.

I can say that 5 years doesn't make it easier.  You may be surprised to hear that it actually gets harder.  You see, at one year, I knew she would be 17 and would be in Grade 11.  That she would still be a setter on the volleyball team, be giving her little brother a hard time but still looking out for him in that way that older siblings do as they treat their younger counterparts as an old favorite and familiar possession.  I knew she would be driving the little red car, wearing a favorite hoodie, carrying her ipod everywhere.  When I would see her friend's facebook updates, I knew she would have been at that tournament, celebrating that friend's birthday, hanging at the park.  It was the same 2 years out, except this was the big senior year.  She would graduate.  I looked at dresses online and chose one that I imagined her picking...bright orange organza and silk, shining like she did.   At 3 years, I knew she would be in secondary school.  But I didn't know if she would have chosen a College or University.  Would she still have wanted to do graphic design like she did when she was 15 and 16?  At 4 years, I knew she would still be in college or University.  But when a new Taylor Swift song came out I wondered if she would still love it, or if her tastes in music would have changed.  I wondered but was no longer certain if she would still prefer Silver brand jeans, Lu Lu Lemon, and Hollister.  She would be old enough to be engaged if she wanted to be.  Would she be hoping to travel, or maybe shopping for wedding dresses, or just enjoying making her place in the world? 

Today when I think of the girl I knew so well I am pained by mystery.  If she chose college she could be done, whereas in University she would be third year.  She may or may not be in the workforce or a student.  She could be anywhere.  She might be travelling.  She might be single, she might be engaged.  And after 5 years of not seeing her changes, likes, and dislikes, she could really be anyone.  The only thing I know is I would love her.  She would make me laugh, and smile.  I am pretty sure she would meet me with a hug at the door.

No, 5 years is not easier.  And there is no such thing as an ordinary day.  I miss you terribly, but celebrate my memories and the joy of knowing you daily.  Love you today, always, and forever Jaycena.  Shine bright Laramie and Brooke.

Hanging in the Plaza Premier Lounge

I normally don't bother with the airport lounges.  My exception is the 6 hour layover between Toronto and Regina on my flights home from Bermuda.  The Plaza Premier Lounge in Lester B Pearson is located right after the security area, before you go down the escalator to the gates.  The admission fee is based on the number of hours you stay, rather than a daily rate.  Food and beverages are included (including alcoholic ones), as well as cozy chairs, computers and internet access, and showers.  What more could you ask for really?

And so here I sit, cozied in using up the free internet, wondering what I should blog about today since I have been negligent as of late.  I don't have access to any of my pictures, so the usual adventures will have to wait to be caught up on.  I guess I am limited to the events of my day thus far, the dreaded downs of the ups and downs of air travel.  Here's how it went so far.

I tried to check in online, but I was not allowed to do so from my destination.  When I went to call the taxi I realized the flight was delayed...this was actually an up as it allowed me more time at home with the kitties before heading to the airport.  When I got to the airport and checked in, I was horrified to see that my seat assignment was a middle seat.  I hate being wedged between others.  I like my space.  I tried to choose another seat, but there were only 4 seats available on the whole plane...all of them middle seats.  The only plus was that it was row 14, so at least I would be among the first to get off the plane.  I got to my seat to find someone sitting in it.  She was assigned the aisle seat but was just sitting in mine.  I offered to let her keep it, but she had no intention of staying there, for some reason she just wanted to be in it until I was.  Strange.  As I sat down, the window seat passenger arrived and we all piled back out into the aisle and back in again.  And then...the talking started.  I am one of those people who can randomly talk to strangers for hours on some days, and on others happily stare out the window or into my book and enjoy anonymity.  I am tired, I have a cold, and a crappy seat assignment, and every intention in the world of just reading my book until this is over.  Except my neighbour is still chatting.  And in a way where a response is required...lots of questions.  She is a lovely lady, and it turns out I have even met the people she was staying with, but I just wasn't feeling all that sociable.  She explained to me that she still had the newspaper she flew down with the last week, the courses she was taking, the reviews she had read of the book in my hand, a list of books she likes, a discussion she had with another member of a book club about Hemingway when she was in the Southern Hemisphere (and I can explain exactly why she was there, for how long, and where she has been since and in between if you like).  Again, lovely lady, interesting life experiences.  But we haven't even started taxiing yet.

Some people pride themselves on travelling light.  I pride myself on transporting as much of my life with me as fits in the baggage allowance wherever I go.  I know all the tricks and trade, I can calculate the weight of my luggage to 49.5 pounds each without fail, and I know for a fact that no one ever weighs the carry on to make sure it's less than 35 pounds.  And my personal item is my purse, which deceptively is capable of carrying enough for a savvy traveller to live on for about 6 months while backpacking.  Therefore, I did a mental inventory of the resources I had available, and decided to offer up my novel since she expressed interest.  I had an arsenal of literature available between my feet in the kindle in the purse, and also pulled out a pair of headphones from the last Delta flight I was on and plugged into the entertainment system.  There were 5 movies I thought I would enjoy, but the Book Thief was the one I chose.  Through the headsets I could hear my neighbour, still in deep conversation with me.  She had seen the movie, and yes, I had read the book, so she was wondering if I knew if the funeral in the beginning was from the Orthodox culture, and why did Liesl's mother send her away at the beginning of the movie.  As I watched the movie, stopping to hit rewind many many times when interrupted by my neighbour who wanted to talk about passages in the book I had just loaned her, I teared up several times and thought they did a wonderful job of casting.  The movie was well done, but as usual, the book has some touches that I thought the movie missed.  For example, they introduce the narrator, Death, at the beginning and at the end, but completely obliterate him for the rest of the movie.  In the book, Death tells the story of Liesl, and often he is watching her in scenes...but the movie does not portray this.  As well, one of the most touching quotes of the book is altered, and in a diminishing way.  I won't say who, but Death says that when he comes for one of the characters, something like this (forgive me, it's from memory), "His soul sat up to meet me.  The best ones always do.  He was light as a child.  For so much of his soul was already given away to other places, other memories.  A glass of champagne in the summer.  The whisper of music on a breeze."  OK, I may have the analogies at the end wrong, but that's the point.  The movie simply says, "His soul was light as a child's" and some other much less moving words.  I will say that the observations of death at the end of the movie are almost better in the spoken word than the written.  I believe the final words of the movie were death saying, "I am haunted by humans."

So basically, my thought for the day, is that if you haven't read the Book Thief by Markus Zusac (again, from memory, but something like that), you should.  I am famously biased for preferring female authors.  This is a rare and wonderful exception.  It is really a wonderful tale with a unique twist.  I had no idea it was considered a children's book until I saw it posted there on Amazon (heck of a big book for children).

Oh, did my flights get better?  Well, my neighbour decided to let the back of the plane off first so we could keep chatting.  I then quickly cleared customs...which is amazing because one thing I am not used to after living for 5 years in a stone house without central heat, is how HOT room temperature is in North America.  As I dragged my 3 suitcases and giant purse through the airport in my winter boots and a sweater, with a cold, I broke into a sweat.  I thoroughly expected a pat down or suspicious person search.  My neighbour from the plane caught up to me again, and it turns out she was travelling with her 15 year old son.  I now know why she was so happy to have my company.  The terrible two's are nothing.  The terrible teens are the real test of parenthood.  This surly creature towered over her in stature, but emotionally toddled beside her throwing a temper tantrum.  "Shut up."  "I don't care."  "Good.  I don't ever WANT to go anywhere with you again."  I'm sure he's not a bad kid.  Just at that stage where he is embarrased to be in public with his mom.  Still young enough to be tired and overwrought by being stuck in a packed plane.  I must confess that I slowly fell back and ducked into a corner before they saw me.  Like THAT doesn't make me look even more airport suspicious.  Sweaty. nervous, and hiding in a corner before the security checkpoint.

Next stop, Regina, Saskatchewan. In the mean time...I found the lounge.  Internet.  And Wine.  And am here safe and sound, so will smile at the experience and call it a success.  Hope you are all having a good day!

Housesitting and Petsitting

There is a phenomenon in Bermuda known as "The house sit."  This is a concept I have rarely heard of back home, but it is very common in Bermuda.  When you go away, instead of asking a friend to check the mail or come in and feed the pets, you get someone to move in while you are away.  I suspect this is based on the premise of "trading up" in the world, a concept made possible by Bermuda's extremely high real estate and rental values.  If you have a house, you simply ask someone who has an apartment, and they are usually more than happy to uproot themselves and live out of a suitcase, often driving an hour or more to work, to have a vacation at your house so long as you have something they don't have.  Better beach access.  Better view.  Bigger kitchen.  A spare room so you can invite friends and family to the island.  Or, on a dry year, just the ability to use their water rather than your own limited supply (sad but true).  I have known people who rent tiny, dingy studio apartments because they know they can secure a house sit every few weeks, often for weeks at a time, and live in a property they cannot personally afford, and so are content to take a low end apartment because they don't plan on being there unless they have to be.  One girl I know had as many as 8 guests fly in while the owners were away, and, so long as there are no damages, the owners don't really complain.  After all, their property is safe from break ins, and their pets have full time care.

Because I have pets, and because living in someone else's space is my idea of a stressor rather than a vacation, I have never been one to house sit.  And sadly, because I don't really have good beach access or a view, and only a one bedroom apartment, albeit a new and nice one, I don't get a lot of offers to house sit when I am away.  Add into that the fact that my cats are lovely, but occasionally demanding, and the fluffy one bites, and it's not easy to find someone to take care of them at all when I go.  I would like to thank all the previous friends who have braved caring for my furballs, especially for Siobhan, the only person to actually house sit, but, when one has been on the road too much, there are also professional pet services on the island.

I got a couple of inquiries about this earlier this month, and so can say that the service I found first and have tried and liked is Passion Paw Paws.  Even the name sounds great!  The owner, Sarita, can stay over as a house sit, or if you prefer she can come in once or twice a day for 30 min sessions to feed and play with your pets.  She will send you email updates of how the day went, and photos of your furry friends (aka proof of life) to make your travel a little more care free.  They take very detailed information of your pets' likes and dislikes, hiding spots, feeding routines, and special requests (Lexi for example likes cheese slices, but only if handed to her in tiny squares that she can lick off your fingertips.  While this isn't exactly part of her daily nutrition regime, it's a good icebreaker for kitty sitter and bitey cat).  I have been quite happy with the service, and have recommended her to others.  So if no one considers your situation a trade up, you can always call in the professionals!

Noah's Ark also has some pet sitter recommendations, and while I haven't tried them, they were well recommended, so do call them if you are looking for some suggestions of who to call.

Overall, pet sitters are a lot less stressful on my pets than boarding, so if you are going away, I recommend you give Passion Paw Paws a try.