A surprise Meeting

Sunshine is impossibly stimulating. It kills the lethargy that sets in during the gloomy weather. 

When it’s sunny there’s always something wonderful to do: I just go to a beach or a park. And in between it’s actually pleasant doing the millions of things that have to be done here to maintain the place—like cleaning up the gardens and I re-seeding some thin areas in the new lawn.

Wednesday morning I did lots of little errands before Sheba and I went to meet our new (and small) dog-walking group that meets three mornings a week. They were dogs Sheba knows from the Sunday walks plus some new ones and they’re all young, like her. She gets much more exercise when we are with other dogs.

At the start of the walk I was introduced to Di and near the end of the walk, I wound up walking and talking with her. She was talking about growing up and I asked her, “Where did you grow up?”

“West Vancouver.”

“So did I!” I exclaimed in sincere amazement. “An indiscreet question: When did you graduate?”

“Before you.1957” 

“Oh. Me: 1965,” I said, but we talked about sharing the experience of going to the only high school in our community. It was like living in a small town, I said, and she agreed.

“You might have known my sister,” she said. “She is closer to your age.”

“What was her name?”

“Well, my maiden name is Riccard. I’m Dianne.”

“And Lynn’s your sister?” I was staring at Di. I’d stopped walking and grabbed her arm.

“Yes! Did you know her?”

And I silently teared up. She was a great friend; our fathers were close. I often sailed on their boat that often won the major sailing races. Plus: She married another acquaintance from high school, Jim Charlesworth. I cried because a drunk driver killed her at a very young age and here I was with her sister whom I’d never met. I was overcome. Lynn was the sweetest of women.

We talked all the way to the end of the walk and hugged goodbye. We’ll be seeing each other often on the walks, and Jim lives on Gabriola. He’s remarried. 

Life continues to surprise me here. 

I’ve been asked to write a story about saving the man in the grocery store with Robin. The store wants to post it on their bulleting board to honour Robin and alert staff to the kind of things that can happen. I look forward to bragging about what Robin did—what we did.

I came home and did laundry. Truly, from the sublime to the mundane in ten clicks.

But I also took my first steps on my new lawn. The grass is thin and tender still but I ventured out to re-seed places that needed it. The birds eat the seed as fast as I can lay it down. The day was spectacular so Her Highness and I went, of course, to Drumbeg, in the afternoon.

The magic of Drumbeg worked immediately but at one point a military helicopter flew low and overhead and it triggered a nasty seizure.

In the evening I watched Andrei, with pride, as he baked a piano full of cookies shaped like musical notes on the Great Canadian Baking Show.

Stunning Drumbeg

Work has resumed in the lot next door. I’m going to have noise all day beside me for the next year, in all likelihood. The heavy equipment ignited at 7:50 am this morning. Every night, the incoming owners drive by and look at what’s been done.

Her Highness and I went for a good walk beneath light cloud and then, mid-morning, the sun broke through and the rest of the day was euphorically beautiful. I went to a dental appointment and then we went to Drumbeg.

It truly is an experience like I wished I’d had in Church—going to Drumbeg. I sat through 75 minutes of Latin throughout my childhood and was bored. But wandering in Drumbeg is richly emotional and incredibly thought provoking.

I walk back and forth along the water along paths that now look like the bare skin of a young man sprouting fresh vibrant young shoots, rich with colour—these ones, green. Sheba white fluffy coat glows in the sunlight; the meadows are an orchestra of crickets, the wind is like the strings.

The stunning beauty of the park makes me think about how spectacular the world is and how lucky I am to be alive—and able to appreciate it. It makes me feel blessed to live here and I forget any problems I had before arriving.

I’ve been worrying about how I’ll get through winter but the park makes me check my attitude. It says to me: “I am here. I will always be here. I am beautiful every day. Come here to forget your troubles. Dress warm and dry in winter. Pass meaningful time with me.”

•

Yesterday was my first day without anything from three essential food groups: Cakes, pies and cookies. I am going to try to shed some tonnage but I cannot live without sweets, so I’m having a small square of chocolate for my lunch and dinner desserts. And I kept moving all day. It was easier than I thought the first day might be.

•

Horrors! What is even politically weirder than Donald Trump?

I’ll tell you: Me admiring Doug Ford. 

I was truly stunned seeing his videotaped interview about the damage he saw in the Tornado zone near Ottawa. He spoke genuinely, sincerely (never mentioning ‘thoughts and prayers’) and passionately. He spoke admirably from the heart and I realized, as he spoke, how phony and careful and strategic the politicians I admire so often sound after a tragedy.

He’s a total dick about the Toronto city council size, the Ontario sex education curriculum and probably other things, but he scored with me as a human being when I watched him on the national news committing to helping the storm victims.

•

I finished watching Bodyguard. What a terrific and engrossing story. I was riveted to every second of the final episode. It’s clearly poised for a second season but I cannot imagine the writers being able to maintain the complexity, suspense and intrigue of season one again.

Sunday and Monday

Sunday morning’s dog walk was eventful. 

·      I could barely walk because my hip was so sore. As we started, I wondered whether or not I’d last the entire walk, (I did.)

·      I met Amy, the woman who runs the local public library. We strolled and talked together for much of the walk.

·      I was invited to join a small group of dog walkers who walk each Monday, Wednesday and Friday mornings.

·      I met Chris, a dog, and another Sheba.

When we got home, we ate and then I decided to try to track an order I’d placed on Amazon and I discovered I’m an Amazon Prime member. (True to form, I have no memory of purchasing my membership.) That means I have access of another online inventory of films and TV series similar to Netflix.

At three o’clock—Wham! Like a switch had been thrown, the sky very  suddenly cleared and the sun came roaring out. I got directly into the spa and then Sheba and I went to Drumbeg. We had to; it has been too long.

Then it was Sunday night. Yay! Endeavour  and The Miniaturist. Yum!

Then to bed and it was torture. Turning in bed was agony and because of the pain, I kept waking up and remembering my dreams.

All my life my dreams have been about being lost or separated from my things/friends. Things are always going wrong in my dreams—always! And last night between the pain and that nature of my dreams I felt ready to throw in the towel. I was as unhappy as I’ve ever been.

I am so sick of being the lost person. I’ve been having these dreams my whole life and, as I say, I am sick, sick, sick of it.

Thankfully my hip is less intensely sore Monday morning because I went to meet Bev in Nanaimo for coffee and then go to visit Jane and Dana in Parksville. 

The breakfast with Bev was eventful in that her son recently was in a terrible boating accident and has severe PTSD. That gave us a lot to talk about and it felt good to put all my (dreadful) experience with symptoms to good use giving Bev insight into what her son is dealing with.

Then I went to Parksville, met Jane and Dana and we went to Beach Acres Resort at Rathtrevor Beach. Black Goose Innis a gorgeous semi-historic site and wonderfully warm and welcoming staff; it’s like eating in a movie set. The pub is more English than an English pub. It was just fabulous. 

Then we went for a very short walk. All three of us were having mobility issues, and then, as I motored home, the sky cleared again and sun shone hot on my shiny bald head.

I went immediately into the spa and Sheba sank into a coma she was so tired. It was a great day. I’m very happy that such great friends have moved into this rich and wonderful part of the world so that we can explore it together.

Black Goose Inn is a former private residence that is opulent in
the extreme. The restaurant and pub are fabulous.

All around the grounds of Beach Acres Resort are little cabins
that are in a magnificently maintained lot overlooking the sea.

This is the review from the resort and restaurant.

This is the endless Rathtrevor beach.

The End of the Rain?

It is fascinating to watch my pot plants evolve and to learn what’s going on from Darrell.

What you see here are the flowers growing. They look more like little leaves all knotted together with the threads of pistils shooting out. Darrell says to let the buds grow as tall as possible before harvesting and then drying them. 

Marijuana sells in the local dispensary for about $230 or so per ounce I think, so my two plants should yield a crop of considerable value. 

Next year I plan to seed four plants in my fenced-in vegetable garden—in the pathway so I don’t use up valuable produce beds.

I love Ven Diagrams

When it’s pouring rain outside even Sheba wants to be inside, so Saturday morning was dull, dull, dull here. It was wet but the swelling in my foot was down so when we did get out for a walk, it was much easier. And I felt good yesterday. (Friday I did not feel at all well.)

With the forest shrouded in milky blue cloud and with water dripping from every needle, I took Sheba for a walk on the trail nearby. Just as I had on Friday, I had to shed my coat. It looks so miserable outside but it’s still really lovely and warm.

I pulled all the books I haven’t read from my shelves and stacked them in the living room. Ol’ One Eye is going to get through them all. I’m starting with an anthology of award-winning short stories. Delicious!

I went into the village for lunch; I get sick of being at home all the time. And I did some shopping. I wonder when I will shop and not think about Grant dying in front of me and then coming back from the dead thanks to Robin’s CPR?

The rain was torrential in the afternoon. The sky was shitting rain like I’ve never seen before here and poor Sheba had cabin fever. We both did.

Today we go for the community dog walk under clouds that are supposed to disburse this afternoon to make way for at least a week of warm and sunny Indian Summer. I can hardly wait! It’s been raining since September 7^th!

•

Okay. It’s time. I’m eighteen pounds over my normal weight and it’s time to do something about it. 

When I started having seizures I stopped cooking and baking. I had to. It was too dangerous to do many things (including using the stove) and so I started eating out and snacking a lot. Then, when self-pity hit over my speech, I soothed my soul with sweets and when I moved here my mantra was pie every day.

If I can lose the weight, I’ll be my old self again—kind of. I’ll be my old self but still with issues. And speaking of issues….

I watched a short film about a community bus in Wales that serves isolated communities—particularly seniors. And in it, you meet many of the regular customers and one is a woman who was in a horrific car accident. 

Helen takes the bus back and forth to therapy and she references having virtually the same type of seizures as I do. I still find it mysteriously satisfying to hear that I am not alone.