Grouse on Grouse on Grouse

When it was still warm outside (so many months ago now), my husband and I were sitting on our back deck with our end-of-the-evening cocktail.  Relaxing. Chilling. Comfortable silence.

Until we heard a sound... khkhkhkuuoo-uuoo-uuoo-uuoo

We're thinking "Owls.  Cool, we have owls!" 

But the sound continued... khkhkhkuuoo-uuoo-uuoo-uu  khkhkhkuuoouuoouuoouu
And we were no longer so sure about owls.  It was a different sound. But still really cool. 

And the coolest part was that the sound flitted around us, as a 'call and response'.  We'd hear it from a house or two above us, then from the direct left, then from somewhere to the right and down a little ways.  Finally, we heard the sound from a scant 7 feet away, in the underbrush of our 'natural' back yard. ('Natural' just means we've given up trying to tame the dandelions and thigh-high grasses that flourish up our little hill.)

And we realized that these sound-making things were very low to the ground. Couldn't be owls at all. 

So what could they be?  Seemed vaguely bird-like.  But it was night and pitch-black all around us. So definitely not starlings or robins or woodpeckers... and not your typical birdsong anyways.

So we listened.  And thought.  And wondered.  Until...

OMG! We have grouse!

OMG! OMG!  Of course we have grouse! Because we live on the side of (wait for it...) Grouse Mountain! 

It was a magical moment and a magical night.  The grouse trilled and warbled and communicated. Their many points of sound created an aural web around us while we savoured our G&Ts.

Shortly after that night, the boy was hired on Grouse Mountain. He works in the cafeteria as a cashier and busboy.  He has a nice blue shirt, a tidy black fleece and a name tag that says "Will - North Vancouver" on it.

At first, he'd come home with only a few tidbits about his new work experience, due to an overall air of uncertainty that kept him surprisingly short on words. This was his first job, so he had some things to learn about being an employee and taking instruction from others.

But after a handful of shifts, he began to feel at home in his new environment and his tongue loosened considerably. His stories came faster and furious-er and were more characteristically... embellished. (After all, one should never sacrifice a good story on the altar of the truth!)

He trilled, he warbled. He recounted his words, his co-workers' words and his supervisors' words in his own version of 'call and response' with his colourful descriptions of a worker's life on Grouse Mountain...

Most importantly, he communicated.

And we enjoyed the wall of sound as we savoured our G&Ts.



PS - this grouse is pretty cool also: 

It wasn't what I expected (but it ends well)

I was recently reminded by an old friend that there was a time (about 8 years back) when one of my signature phrases was "It wasn't what I expected".

 

Typically, I would be muttering this phrase after looking at the meal I'd ordered. Sometimes that meal would pass the visual test but then fail to measure up in the taste or texture department.

He and I were friends at work, so many lunches were consumed together and meals played a large part in our friendship. But admittedly that phrase bled over into other parts of my work and home life.

• Hmmm, I appreciate getting a raise, but when it's not quite enough to buy one Starbucks coffee a week... ?  
• Hmmm, our first kid seems bright enough and people say she's kind of cute, but that weird fainting, gasping thing where her eyes roll back in her head... ? 

"It wasn't what I expected"

One phrase. Loaded with disappointment.

Later (about 4 years back), my standard became less about expecting too much and instead about expecting the worst. A colleague of mine asked me about that tendency. He was an optimist (of the overflowing glass variety) so he didn't really understand it at all. I remember telling him that I'm less likely to be disappointed with what actually happens if I always expect the worst. I thought this would mean I'd be continuously pleasantly surprised when the worst did not happen.

So I pretty well veered from one extreme to the other.

From always expecting too much to expecting nothing at all.



Extremes are good, right? Shows conviction and certainty, right??

Well... maybe not so much.

Pretty late in the game (my second half-century learnings), I've realized that neither of these are on anyone's list of the keys to happiness.

So I am going less with Expectations and more with Events.

Kind of a flow, chi, zen sort of thing. (Midzen, remember?) The key is to be more open to events as they unfold and to find something enjoyable and just a little bit wonderful out of each event.

What in hell am I talking about, you ask? (Judging, judging... you could be bit more zen yourself...)

Since I started talking about food, I'll end that way too. A&W is my guilty pleasure for fast food - a rare treat every few months.

• So I go and order my Teen Burger - no onions - and a rootbeer.
• The burger arrives chock full of onions, the lettuce is wet and the bun is soggy.

In days past, it would not have been what I expected and I would have been annoyed. And even if I'd been expecting the worst and this is what I'd got, I would still have been annoyed (that 'pleasantly surprised' thing never really happened.)


So I focus instead on this particular event:

• The burger is warm 
• I have to scrape out the onions, so I get all of that mustardy, ketchupy goodness on my fingers 
• I bite and find that the bacon is just exactly crispy enough
• I take a long pull at the rootbeer and appreciate the melty puddles that the frosty mug has left on the table
• I glance up at my kid across the table, happy to have him here (ok, ok, he's pushing french fries into his mouth with both hands and kind of scowling at the same time, but that's his happy face when he's with me)

Turns out, this is a pretty wonderful moment.

Soggy buns be damned!