Life Lately
A visit to Vancouver island, a sick dog, and my husbands new online shopping addiction.
Seven beautiful days on Vancouver Island, visiting the ‘parentals’ who lucky for me, live in Parksville. Typically, husband Brad and I fly out around this time every year, cash flow and schedules permitting of course. We eagerly anticipate the break from snowbanks and blizzards. This year was no exception. It was (is?) the winter that never ends. Scared to finalize that statement.
On the island, flowers are in bloom, and the grass and trees are green. Dishing out plenty of ocean views, just smell that ocean air (humour me). This is the life.
Mountans and open sea, miles of sandy beaches, collecting shells while the tides out. 4pm happy hour, (we are old). Eagles circling above ‘100 stairs’ at Sunray Beach. And I could not forget to hit up my favourite fish and chips place at the French Creek Pub at the French Creek Harbour.
At the young age of 82, Dad still plays bass and sings in a band 2 to 3 times a week. I cherish those afternoons and evenings at the pubs listening to, and watching them play. The crowds always have a chill-happy vibe, and never miss a chance to get up and dance to whatever song moves them. Also a big shout out to those senior lady ‘groupies’ bringing their awesomeness and best dance moves.
Meanwhile on the Prairies..
March/April 2026
Mother natures personality disorder update, as follows:
Warm sunny day - snow melting grass is finding it’s way through, birds and angles are singing, all is well in the world!
Next day, blizzard. For fuck sakes.
Following week, a few warm and sunny days - snow is melting, birds and angles singing. Yesss spring is here!
Next day, blizzard. For fuck sakes.
Repeat numerous times. I’ve lost count.
Before my little getaway, our Irish Wolfhound had been very sick with a bad case of pneumonia that landed him in emergency ICU for three nights. It was touch-and-go there for a bit. The fact that this was his second episode since January had me worried there is some other underlying issues.
Lots of sleepless nights, anxious moments and tears.
First few days of having him home, were stressful. I could barely wrap my head around the amount of pills we had to cram down his throat daily, about 25 every 12 to 24 hours. Ugh, poor guy.
I should have recorded this insane process - me, shoving pills stuffed in pill pockets (to help smooth the process) then jamming my hand down his ginormous throat.
But as any mom with a sick fur-babe knows, I was in full-on survival mode. Every hour of the day was spent trying to get him to eat, or forcing meds down his throat.
Autopilot - Zombified
With this sick pup development and the price of flights, Brad graciously stayed home to tend to Finn, giving me a much needed mental break, and giving him some ‘house to himself/me time.’
This me time also cultivated the opportunity for his first ever karaoke debut at our neighbourhood pub singing Tiny Dancer by Elton John. . He says people loved it, I then tried to explain the diplomacy of people just trying to be kind and polite.
He is now entertaining the idea of joining the weekly karaoke club.
Dude! You don’t even sing. What is happening?
At this point I'd only been gone for 6 hours..
Oye
Regardless of missing my husbands historic musical debut, getting away to the cool, salty air and beauty of the Pacific Ocean really did help reset my brain. Spending time with mom and dad, was priceless. Strolling through old-growth rainforest with my best friend, who made the journey to join me on the last leg of my trip, definitely what I needed. I even got to hug my favourite 800-year-old tree.
I think that helped too.
I wasn’t sure I could let my mind rest after the past few weeks. Relaxing my mind seemed like an impossibility. But I was wrong.
Wait there’s more
Did I mention my husband purchased some fart neutralizing underwear? I suppose you’d probably remember that conversation.
It’s the first pair of underwear I’ve ever seen that comes with an instruction manual.
Entertainment aside they are actually nice looking and functional as far as self proclaimed ball cradling, luxury underwear go.
So even if they don’t neutralize those toxic odors, all is not lost.
He’s been going through some sort of incessant online shopping phase. Many interesting things have showed up on our doorstep. Bird houses from china, (that the birds refuse to use I might add) Some sort of suction mask for choking? That will probably never get used because I have no idea if thats actually its purpose. Some other interesting paraphernalia.. I will spare you the details.
Starting to get nervous every time there’s a new box at the door.
Also, no more birdhouses please.
On a side note, when i started writing this edition of this little ‘life letter’ it was April 24th, and we were on what felt like, blizzard #225.
I don’t feel like I’m being irrational when I say, I actually really do want to move. For real, I’m done. The rage is strong.
I’m ready.
Hi
For those who just found me here, my name is Tam Dayle. I’m a photographer and writer, born and raised on the Canadian prairies.
Dayle With A Why is 100% reader-supported. If you’ve gotten this far, I thank you for showing up to read my stuff.
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