In which I go clamming.

I have so much to blog about lately because so much has been going on in my life, it's ridiculous.

Sunday at the dog park was a relative bust because it wasn't actually a dog park. It was something like a large, uncultivated field with a weird paved part up the middle that went on for about a mile. Unfortunately, I carpooled there with my roommate so I felt bad turning back once I realized it was not the place for Ella. She is an old, old dog who cannot (and does not want) to walk for long stretches at a time. So we took turns carrying her to the meeting spot which was basically just the place where the grass met the edge of a beautiful body of water. Ella was polite but obviously wondering WTF we were doing there. There was no shade and it was hot. I'm oversensitive about Ella because she's old and has a heart murmur and bad hips and all that jazz and I really don't want to stress her more than I can avoid. So we turned back after only a couple of minutes but it worked out because everyone else there left too. Oh well.

Monday was an adventure. My alarm went off at 6:30am ("Why is my alarm going off?" I wondered as I groped for it in the dark) and I got dressed and forced some oatmeal down my throat. I bounded (stumbled, groggily) down the front steps and hopped (climbed awkwardly) into the front bench of my Canadian neighbor's boyfriend's truck. My American neighbor, Canadian neighbor and said boyfriend were already waiting for me. We headed off to the beach on a quest for clams!

You may be wondering to yourself, what does one need to go clamming? Our materials included a garden hoe, a couple five gallon buckets and our bare hands. Off through the countryside we drove, stopping at a couple different beaches to dig around. Unfortunately for us and fortunately for the clams, we couldn't find any. So we went to a couple different barns that my Canadian neighbor was associated with on the way to her parents for a barbecue. At one of the barns lived a beautiful pair of black Percherons, 18.3hh! (For those unfamiliar with horses, one hand = 4in, so these guys were well over 6ft at the shoulder). I met my first Norwegian Fjord horse at the last barn. A good day for ponies, if not clams :) We rounded out the day with lunch at Canadian neighbor's parents' house. It was a beautiful house a stone's throw from a gorgeous private beach - so jealous.

I spent the evening listening to my Maryland Terps play (and win!) their opening football game against Miami. It was a good way to end my first weekend on my own here in Canada.