Dis 'N Dat

We finally got some summer here. Seriously. Temperatures were so low I had my fire going up to a few nights ago. Today is sunny but around 11C. A joke really.

Tourist season is busy so far. Good bookings for June. Many bookings for July and August. Earning my crusts for the winter. Guests who Airbnb are very interesting. My observation so far (which I've shared with a few) is that only very contented couples go for the Airbnb experience as their relationships can be under intimate scrutiny by other guests and by the hosts. Just my thoughts. I mean if one is civil and respectful to one's partner over an early breakfast the happy couples exam is passed with flying colours. And I read human beings well. I can detect the false exteriors, the phony smiles and the passive aggressive underpinnings quite easily.

I seem to be on the go much more than I'd like. Today is my first day for ME in over a week. I took naps, from exhaustion, a few times in the morning after the PGs left. I've never done that before. Could be my energy is not as good as it was due to health issues or age. I did mention this to my doctor but I get the raised eyebrow of "what do you expect?" which is not helpful.

Friends from Ontario have bought a gorgeous house here and held a little dinner party Friday night and served Lobster Newburg.

A friend has been experimenting with woodpiles and built me two of these. They are in the German tradition and called Holzhaufen. Huge advantage is they dry very quickly with the wind running through them.

I met an old blog friend and her husband for dinner this past week. The previous time we'd arranged it in Ontario she had health issues, but this time they were touring Newfoundland and we met up. Absolutely delightful in the flesh, so to speak, it is extraordinary how the internet has changed the way of forming friendships. I can honestly say, having met quite a few bloggers, that the friendships in real life "meets" are warm and always feel as if we've known each other a long time. Thank you Tessa and Martin!

My wonderful grief counsellor is giving a workshop in our town community centre tomorrow. Looking forward.

Looking forward is what it's all about. Truly. And that was my father's secret in life. Always looking forward. Happy Da's Day, old man.

Wherever you are.

Lemony Prune Mouth

I have to watch myself.

A dear friend maintains that as we get older our character defects become more emphasised and more entrenched.

Evidence corroborates.

If you're messy and cluttered the habits get worse as the energy dissipates with which to deal with them. The debris piles up in the face of decreased desire and perhaps a lifelong ennui. Whatever the cause.

I have to watch my inner judgemental self .

Particularly around drunks.

I was at a dinner party Saturday night. I should have left earlier than I did. Before it descended into loud arguments and hot debates and facets of friends that turn antagonistic/weepy/belligerent/ridiculous. Take your pick.

None of them will remember any of it in the morn. But I will. Alone in my rigid sobriety. Apart from one other. Who also engages in these mindless debates. He hosts and can't go to bed and leave his living room to an iffy scenario of mess and slop.

I sometimes have difficult with timing. Part of me doesn't want to desert the sinking ship of drunken debate and leave him alone on his island of sobriety.

And for a while, before the ocean of booze tips everyone into incoherence, the chat and food are enthralling and interesting.

And then.

Timing is everything. I can't seem to assess the best time to leave.

I think: I can't believe these people, all in their sixties, still behave like frat boys/girls when it comes to booze.

And I feel my mouth prune up and inner tut-tuts bang around in my head.

But I do manage to escape before the spliffs get passed around.

Not that anyone notices.

Our Lovely Humanity

It's never the perfect dinner parties I remember. You know, where everything is just so. Everything matching, flowers at attention, napkins crisp and clean and even, linen spotless, best silver aligned.

No. it's the wee touches of carelessness. Something the host/hostess forgot to put away or got thrown in a corner to be dealt with later just when the oven beeped.

I am included in these family get-togethers at friends of mine. All festive occasions. Between this couple they have 13 siblings plus their partners (or not), plus cousins and in-laws. I find it hard to talk about it without crying. Happy tears I should add as this huge family reminds me so much of my own when we all pile in together. And by now I'm like this stray sister as they tease me and ball-hop me to a huge degree. Acceptance.

And the food is awesome, this afternoon and into the evening it was all kinds of fish. Fresh crab, a clam chowder that would make you groan in pleasure, fresh cod, brewis, fish cakes and fresh baked rolls. And scrunchions. I don't eat desserts by choice but the selection would make you weep. Layered trifle in a huge bowl, 7 cup pudding with rum sauce, this fancy cinnamon roll that comes out like a swiss roll. And enough to feed hundreds. And masses of tulips and daffodils in jugs and vases everywhere.

The craic was 90, as my people say. But it was when I was in the bathroom that I smiled and felt so touched. We've all had these little slips, these forgetfullnesses. Like leaving the big tube of haemorrhoid cream beside the sink. I'll admit to walking around my own dining room serving guests with a trail of toilet paper floating behind me.

And them? Neatly arranged on three hooks at the back of their bathroom door were his underpants, her knickers and her bra.

Happy season of renewal and rebirth and re-invigoration to you all.

Blog Jam

Do you find that as the world spins more and more out of control males seem to fixate more and more on the world of sports? The gear, the beer, the cheer, the FB postings? I shouldn't say male. Some females of my acquaintance do too. I've always found it an odd pursuit, gaping at widescreen teevee sports, beer and wings and chips and popcorn at the ready, cheering for millionaire unknowns as if one knew them.

In extremis of the above paragraph: the superbowl had the most viewers, the most sexually charged performances, the most human traffic with pimps (an estimated 10,000), the raunchiest, most violent ads., etc., in history. And very few see anything wrong with that.

I'm thinking of starting a more cerebral type of dinner party circle here. A potluck and "bring something to read" event, drifting around to different houses once a month or so. I ran it by a friend today and she was really enthused. Elevating the level of discourse which tends to circle around the 3Ks here in my wee outport. If it doesn't start with me, where does it start. I instigated a really lovely one in Toronto years ago and most of us are still in touch.

I don't know why this story (true) popped into my head today, but it did. About 12 years ago I had a call from another accountant who had her own practice. She said she had to meet with me as she had a very sensitive matter to discuss. The long and the short of it was her son had died. He was a highly successful IT entrepreneur and hadn't filed his taxes in six years which was a total shock to her. A bachelor, he had left everything to her. She couldn't face the boxes and boxes of material he had left behind and engaged me to do the work. Which I did. But the oddest, weirdest thing was the way he died. The overhead fan in his bedroom had stopped working. He took a knife from his kitchen drawer and attempted to tighten one of the screws. The fan started up and the knife flew out of his hand and into his heart. Instant death. 34 years old.

I am preparing a story telling talk. I have so many stories. I really want to tell them. They float in and out of my head to bursting.

All of us should be telling more stories. I remember my granny's and even my great-granny's. And so many in between.