In the Closet

It's been a strange "winter getaway" this year.  I've kind of been numb over all the events that happened in the weeks before we left.  Thank goodness for the wedding, it was the only event that gave us any warning ahead of time and the only one that goes without saying, was happy.  I was best person and witnessed a good friend marry the woman of her dreams.  It was the perfect remedy for the two funerals that bracketed the "wedding of the year," as was the vacation that followed.  It's the vacation that I've already blogged about in earlier posts.  But here's the inside scoop on our Arizona vacation.

Arizona was a trip we made the last few years to escape at least some of the early months of wind,

cold and snow, that chilly fall "slide into" winter.  It's a time when it seems that even the furnace can't keep the damp away.   Although we would have loved to explore further afield, our trusty Irish Terrier was beginning to show signs of age and really wouldn't have done well in a kennel.  So instead he rode in luxury with the backseat raised and thick padding on the floor where he could snooze between rest stops.  With his travel bag beside him and content from the inevitable treat he received from the customs officer as we crossed the border, he was settled in for the trip.  It worked out well, we got our vacation and he got to come along.  In fact, we'd expected that he would travel with us again this year but we found out a few weeks before departure that that wasn't to be.  So we're missing our little Irish this year.

Meantime, we're halfway through our time in Arizona and the house we're staying in is feeling a bit like home - a home away from home.  But it only has two bedrooms and no den so when a friend came to visit, the spare bedroom I was using for office space was no more and I moved - literally, into the closet.  Fortunately it's a walk in closet off the master bedroom.  Unfortunately, its proximity is right next door to the bathroom and adjacent to the shower.  Not exactly plush surroundings as my laptop must be slid just so under the lower bar normally meant to hang clothes and I have to push the chair back carefully to miss my half open suitcase.  Yes, I've been here a month and still I haven't completely unpacked.  But in another month we'll be heading home, so now I call my state of unpacking, a time saving measure.  

Now the spare bedroom is again free but I'm beginning to like my time in the closet.  Maybe I'll stay for another week or two, or three.

Where do you do your best work?

Ryshia

www.ryshiakennie.com

P. J. O'Rourke - The End of An Era

P.J. O'Rourke

July 4, 2000 - September 22, 2015

This week I lost my friend and writing companion.  It's been a long and happy partnership, and my friend was tired - it was time to say goodbye.

My journey with Rourke began when we brought home a new puppy, an Irish Terrier.  Rourke began life in the heart of the British Columbia mountains.  I would joke about his "dual citizenship" for his sire was an American dog and Rourke was born on the fourth of July.  But none of that mattered much to Rourke.  What mattered to him was having his people close, having a bit of fun in the day - a game or two or maybe three, getting into a bit of mischief and going for that daily walk.

We wanted a good solid Irish name so we named him after one of my husband's favourite author's at that time, P. J. O'Rourke.

Rourke was a good traveller from the beginning and where we went, at least on our road trips, he went too.  He settled himself into the backseat ready for any adventure that was to follow.  Intelligent and quick to learn, he wasn't so quick to follow commands.  He had a mind of his own, a trait bred into him eons ago when the Irish Terrier was raised as an independent Irish farm dog.  Now that trait was clear with Rourke.  At obedience, he learned quickly but after learning a command he wasn't apt to repeat it over and over again.  Once he'd done it, the look on his face would say that was enough.  He loved little children and other dogs.  And a walk where either of those appeared ended up in a very distracted Rourke.  He wanted to visit the children and charge head first at the dog, ready for any game whether it was a nose sniffing hello or a pseudo fight.  While he could fly over an agility course, he wasn't so apt to stop if distracted by another dog.  He loved winter and shovelling his face through the banks of fresh snow.  Doing a rather face forward snowplow until there was snow clinging to his moustache.  He loved playing and even a few days before he died he was trying to do spins on the lawn.  But his favourite toys and games were with his stuffed animals - always oversized.

He was there when my first book, From the Dust was published in 2007 and through the writing journey thats followed with all its twists and turns.  He's accompanied me on fifteen years of idea laden walks.  Every morning he made sure that I took a break from writing to go on those walks.  There he strolled by my side, sniffing trees and shrubs, running ahead and always game to keep extending the walk to sniff one more tree and then one more.  In later years, our walks were slower but he still enjoyed every moment of the new sights and smells and the simple joy of being together.  A walk with Rourke never failed to end in feeling good - you couldn't help it.

There was ritual attached to my writing.  Every morning I would get my coffee and Rourke would follow me downstairs to my office where he would settle on his oversized dog bed.  It was a bed we'd brought home from a trip despite the good-natured griping of my husband at the size of it and the room it took, never mind the fact that we had to haul it thousands of miles.  My office looks empty without Rourke laying on that big dog bed.   Sometimes I can imagine he's still there.  


Through the ups and downs of establishing a writing career, Rourke was one of the constants.  When I was accepted by Harlequin intrigue I didn't know it but his time here was dwindling.  I like to think that he stuck around to see me become a Harlequin author and once that was accomplished, Rourke saw it as a time to let go.

I know that'll I'll never know the truth of that but but what I know for sure is that a little over a week before he died, the lameness he was experiencing was diagnosed as something much worse, bone cancer.  He spent his last week being held and pampered, the king of his domain, as he always was, and as loving as he had always been.   The end was peaceful in my arms, just as he arrived in our life as a small puppy over fifteen years ago.

Rest well, sweet Rourke.  Enjoy the stories from afar.

Ryshia
ryshiakennie.com

Rourke's Salmon Biscuits

1 can salmon (about 200 grams)

1/2 cup water

pinch of dill

a dash or two of lemon
a dash of pepper 

bake at 325 - flip the cookies after thirty minutes
and continue to bake for another half hour.

Turn off oven but leave cookies in the oven until it cools.  

Cookies will harden just a bit more