Is that not a thing of beauty! Is that not an inspired way to announce who I am and claim this place as mine! And as the fence progresses my home will make an even better first impression for visitors. I absolutely love it but I have to hang it a little higher.
I started sailing when I was nine. I took lessons every summer for several years and during my twenties I had my own sailboat. That’s why I got the life ring.
It says “spa” because of the hot tub.
Last night the fire went out and the house got cool and this morning it was -5° outside. I had all the electric heaters on and the fire going. It’s supposed to be like this for a week. Once the house heated up and the sun came out, I turned off the electrics and keep the fire hot.
Fetching wood is nasty. I hate the cold. The cold bites my sockless ankles but the warmth of the house hugs me tight when I come back inside.
It’s bright and sunny today and thank goodness. Snow is predicted for the next two days so today I went into the village to buy the long extension cords I need to bring power from the generator into the house and well pump in case there’s another long power failure. And I have got supplies for the impending visit of the Humphrey clan on Boxing Day.
I have two days alone before they come and I’m very happy about that. Darrell is not back until the second week of January so the solitude is complete and I feel in need of it.
From the bank yesterday: “Thank you for your understanding and patience. There were human errors made and a lack of communication which was unfair to you.”
I knew it but it felt good to hear it. I suspect a loans officer named Mary at Vancity is going to have an uncomfortable return to work when her vacation is over. Five different Vancity managers have been in communication with me over complications arising from her mistake.
From the Learning Curve Department: Wood is dirty. Many pieces have pitch/sap on them and most are covered in a patina of soil and sawdust. Some are scarred with carbon from somehow getting burned and so long ago I learned to use gloves.
And because it’s cold, I wear my trusty ski jacket — the ski jacket I wear everywhere I go and whenever I go out. That’s island life. Mr. Formerly Dapper moves around Gabriola looking like bad genes.
I’ve always had my ski jackets dry-cleaned but out of desperation — there’s no dry cleaner on the island — I Googled “can you wash a ski jacket.” And guess what. You can. And it’s easy. And my coat looks like new. And I’m thrilled.
From now on, I carry my wood in a bag. Duh.
She’s not housebroken. Not only that, she has a habit of eating canine Almond Roca —nuggets of litter encrusted kitty poop. Yum! It gives her breath of the dragon. Do you think Santa ever leaves a taser?