Bah -- Weekends

Ha Ha -- fooled ya. Three posts in April and it looked like I might be back to blogging regularly, until almost a month blows by with not even a random picture to let everyone know I'm alive. It's a good thing my followers are also my Facebook friends and my blog isn't the only "Is she alive?" gauge I have, otherwise I'd like to think I'm important enough to SOME people that someone somewhere would be worried.

I'm giving up on weekends. I know that was my FB status last weekend, but I really truly tried to focus on the fact that it's Victoria Day on Monday, and ignoring the Saturday/Sunday combo just prior to it so I could be true to my word.

See, for anyone who wasn't paying attention, 2 weekends ago, things were going swimmingly until I got a frantic phone call from Mom asking me to meet her at the vet clinic ASAP. Kristy and I disengaged from our coffee/suntanning and dutifully went.

As it turns out, Sugar (my mom's current superstar) was very lethargic, vomiting and convulsing, so after an hour of mopping up vast amounts of drool, watching her have a seizure and listening to the results from the battery of tests she underwent, we finally had a result. Oddly enough, Sugar was suffering from acute WATER intoxication resulting in a potassium deficiency or 'hypokalemia'. Turns out (as crazy as it may sound), drinking large amounts of water can actually be very detrimental to your health (check this out if you're in doubt). Fast forward 4 very boring hours of sitting on the vet office floor while Sugar was rigged to an IV and we eventually had our maniac back, but it was still extremely scary. I can safely say if I go the rest of my life without ever seeing another dog have a seizure, I'd be fine with it. The scariest part was that she was a little less than an hour from her internal organs shutting down. A little food for thought for pet owners as we approach the hot summer months -- monitor your pet's water intake.

After averting crisis #1, I went home, exhausted and promptly fell asleep. The next day as Kristy and I were grocery shopping, I got a phone call from mom who mentioned the neighbours down the road had started a substantial brush fire. She was nonchalant about it since the volunteer fire department was already on the scene working to put it out, and she had a full cistern of water at her disposal in case it spread. An hour later, I receive an increasingly more frantic phone call that her power is now out, rendering her cistern water inaccessible without the use of the electric pump. Within half an hour, I receive the third phone call of the night informing me she may have to evacuate soon as the fire had spread.

To a normal household, evacuation might be a stressful experience, but in her situation, it was beyond that. 13 dogs and a horse make it no easy task.

So Kristy and I fuel up and head out to the farm to go lend a hand and prevent mom from having a total breakdown.

By the time we got there things were pretty much under control, though, so we helped make coffee for the firefighters and checked out the damage so far. At about 9, we were tired, so we headed back to town, leaving the fire crew to their work and mom in considerably better spirits.

Then last weekend, as per usual, Kristy and I were chilling out having a coffee and people watching when my phone rings with a call from Home. Since I know full well my mom is on the plane home from Vancouver, I'm puzzled but I pick up. It's my dad, wondering if I can come pick up my brother who has evidently broke his shoulder in a dirt biking accident.

We meet him outside of town, and he rushes back to Grande Prairie to pick up mom. We take Garhett to the hospital, where they diagnose him with a fractured clavicle. Garhett whines that it might prevent him from going out again the next day -- as if that's the worst of his worries.

Amazingly, Mother's Day went off without a hitch.

All this week, I've been excited about camping. While a few friends have bailed already, Kristy, my friend Rick, and I were still very gungho about going. Rick had taken Friday off to drive here from Edmonton, and despite the warnings about snow, we still decided we'd make the most of May Long.

Last night I receive a phone call from Rick. His fuel pump in his car appears to be shot, so he'll be delayed by a day while he gets it fixed. I remain optimistic.

This morning another call: it's not the fuel pump, it's something BEHIND the fuel pump, and probably won't be fixed until Tuesday. I'm bummed about not getting to hang with him, but remain optimistic that Ms. K and I can still do something this weekend in order to salvage it.

Tonight we decide to go for coffee and on our way to Tim Hortons we hear something every car owner fears... a loud Kah-thunk sound, followed by rattling, followed by hissing air. Something punctured the tire of the car.

So here I sit at 10 to 1 in the morning, hoping a tire shop is open in the morning in order to replace the tire and thinking our w.e.e.k.e.n.d. plans are pretty much shot if not.

Oh boy.

If you're the one who placed the weekend curse on me, let me know. We can work out our differences some other way.