Sometimes people drift into our lives in the most random ways. The really special ones stay, travelling with us through life’s unpredictable journey.
N and I met on our first day of junior high because we both had surnames beginning with S. In a homeroom filled with Smiths, Silvertons and Sylkas, we were drawn together–two kids who were completely different, yet strikingly similar.
Fiercely intelligent and loyal, N was a bit of a rebel without a cause back then. Athletic, competent and confident, where I was timid, clumsy and quiet, we might never have connected were it not for the wonder of alphabetization.
Although our lives took different paths after high school, we maintained a close friendship. Our communication evolved from long handwritten letters in the 80’s to emails and Skype. Once my parents passed, N became the main reason I continued to visit Powell River regularly.
N’s been a steady support through everything life has thrown at me over the decades–the deaths of my parents, my divorce, numerous moves… She has talked me through the depths of my anxiety more times than I remember.
She helped me buy my first house as a single girl, reminisced about my mom with me and even vacated her cottage to give my Sailor and me some alone time when we were visiting Powell River and staying with our respective parents. (She hung a huge a crucifix above the bed just before we arrived–an indication of her wicked sense of humor.)
Our forty year friendship ended abruptly on Saturday.
N died suddenly.
Rest easy, Norma.
What eats grass, is safe around Chihuahuas and doesn’t attract predators?
Curious? Me, too!
After paying my lawn guy $90 to mow the grass, I’m on the hunt for a voracious herbivore that won’t bother the neighbours and doesn’t smell bad.
All reasonable recommendations considered.
It’s time for a new handbag, so I’ve been scouring the internet reading purse reviews. (I realize this makes me sound like the world’s most boring person…I wear that label loud and proud.)
Today I researched the Fossil Maya Hobo on Amazon.
Amazon has both a Canadian and an American site
I knew I’d stumbled onto the US site when someone asked if the outside pocket is big enough to hold a small gun.
We may talk the same…but we’re different.
I’ve been feeling the bunny love lately!
Easter inspired me to share some favorite rodent images.
The gauzy wool scarf is by Smoking Lily–a BC company that makes all its products locally. How great is that? I picked it up at Rusty Rooster, a wonderful little shop in Cumberland.
Sadly the chocolate rabbit is all that’s left of the Easter stash I picked up for my Boy to enjoy when he comes home after his exams. Looks like another trip to Coombs Country Candy is in my future!
The stern bunny in the mug shot watches over me as I sleep.
Which image is your favorite big-eared cuddly creature?
Solo dining in a lovely restaurant with a good book for company is incredibly pampering. (I read it online, so it must be true.)
Since I’m all about looking out for number one these days, I grabbed Educated by Tara Westover (excellent, by the way) and headed out to Pescadores for my most favoritest breakfast ever–huevos rancheros.
I’m an early riser, so I arrived before the Saturday morning crowds. Although the restaurant wasn’t full, there was only one small table left…in the back corner literally beside the bathroom. (No exaggeration…I could’ve opened the bathroom door and turned on the light without getting up.)
Since listening to people pee (or worse!) while I lingered over my eggs and coffee didn’t sound particularly wonderful, I asked for a different table. My server was a bit grumpy, threatening to make me move back to the bathroom if they got busy and needed the larger table.
Sigh–not the best start to my Self-Care Saturday, and further evidence that the world is not set up for singletons.
However, a day that starts with a side of guacamole can’t be all bad–am I right?
I was lounging in the bath last night, when I realized how wonderful it is to have a bathtub. Not too long ago, I was “living” in a shack on a beach with very few creature comforts.
In no particular order, here are five things for which I’m super grateful:
- A bathtub! I don’t know if cleanliness is next to Godliness, but it’s next to impossible with only a teeny, tiny shower stall.
- A real kitchen with actual appliances, including a full size fridge/freezer. In my initial excitement at having the technology to freeze food, I may have eaten far too much ice-cream. I’m over my ice-cream feeding frenzy now…mostly.
- In-house laundry facilities. Not only do I have a squeaky clean body, but pristine clothes to cover it with!
- Improved mental health. My mainland year was tough, and I almost crumbled. I’m stronger and healthier now.
- Seeing my Boy doesn’t require a ferry ride (or two.) We’re both on the Island, separated only by a couple hundred kms of well-maintained highway. This is likely a contributing factor to #4.
So I had a hair appointment…
My stylist knew about my budding romance as I’d gone in for an emergency blow out prior to our first date. Of course, she asked how things were going.
After filling her in on recent developments, I said, “I think I should text him again…just to make sure he’s okay. What do you think? Good idea?”
There was an awkward pause, then…
My hairdresser said don’t do it.
Sadly, not the happiest six words for this Saturday, but perhaps the wisest.
So…I ventured into online dating.
I struck gold on my first try.
H is kind, intelligent and handsome.
I’m nothing if not cautious so we took it slow, texting for weeks before meeting.
I was super nervous the first time we met (for coffee), but H is very easy to talk to, and made me feel comfortable. We got together two more times, texting several times a day in between our dates.
I felt really good about things…until he suddenly stopped texting.
I’m dejected now that I’ve been dumped. Rational me understands that I shouldn’t be this miserable about someone I hardly knew, but irrational romantic me is still very sad.
At least my dog loves me.
Our wonderful janitor lent us four chicks for the day.
The children were enchanted by the fuzzy creatures. Everyone (even the squeamish ones) wanted to hold a wee fowl.
Perhaps I’m a little hard hearted, but I was more than ready to say buh bye to our downy guests at the end of the day.
The class had a faint farm-ish whiff by 2:30 and I just didn’t find the chicks cute. (I prefer my chicken skinless and deboned.)
As to class mascots, say hello to Chickie, the rubber chicken I squeeze when I want the class’ attention. Now he’s cute!
April 1, 2012 brought the cruelest joke ever–a snow storm!
Flash forward seven years, and we’re enjoying sunny days and double-digit temperatures as March exits like a lamb.
Welcome to April!