It's perfect

 Over the years, Anita and I got things from our children and grandchildren.  Pictures, and stuff that sometimes were a challenge to figure out.  Some we hung on walls and fridges.  And admired them.  And they were... perfect.  

A strange thing occurs when receiving those things.  Because most certainly someone who didn't know our children or grandchildren would wonder at the, perhaps unwarranted in their eyes, perfection of the thing.  But when love gets mingled in the mix, the broken, messy, strange, simple thing becomes... perfect.  

We got a hand-made shelf from Laura yesterday.  It was perfect.  

I think God thinks that about us...  

On the quiet

 It's raining... or at least trying to.  Gordon Lightfoot is in the background, talking about rainy day people, and I just finished a book from W.O Mitchel... Roses are Difficult Here. I think it starts slow, but it ended up being quite good.  

I sit alone.  And it gives me quite a bit of time to pause and reflect now that they afternoon nears closing.  I wonder if words come hard when life isn't so hard.  I am reminded when the words came easier... and I think I miss it.  Sitting in a coffee shop... "Pear tea please".  The shop is closed now... 

How are you doing....

The afternoon for once is warm enough that I can sit outside for a bit.  I pour myself a glass of white wine, sink into a chair on the front porch, and begin reading a new book.  Tolstoy.  It reads easy, but not quite with the same "maturity" of say, a Dickens.  But I like the easy...

I don't get far into the book before I drift.  And I find myself thinking, more and more actually, about old friends and people who I shared life with.  

A month or so ago I had called up a very good old friend Jack.  I had for a long time wondered how he was, since we hadn't connected for well, an awful lot of years.  I had texted him earlier to break the ice and he said he would happily talk over the phone some time.  

So I called after work one day.

We talked and I could tell it was Jack... the inflections, the same words, same thoughts, same feelings about life.  I'll do it again, because the old connections came back.

Gail has been trying to talk to us (me?) lately.  I'd known Gail and Walter from way, way back... young people times.  At first they were "just" our leaders, but then we came to be friends.  Walter died some time ago, but Gail keeps on going.  I'll make that call too some day.  Just to say hi and wonder how life is.

The memories bite a bit.  Before going inside I wondered why now I was beginning to think of the old friends.  Maybe it has something to do with being sixty three.      

The forest for the trees

"Hello."  We chat for a while about COVID and the way the testing has been going.  We tell her about Marleah and how she works with testing results.  And she asks us to say "thank you" to Marleah.

"So who will be first?", she asks.

I volunteer.

I wait for a few seconds.  "So what ahhh... nose hole... nostril... do you want to use?"

"Oh, it doesn't matter sir.  Just pick one..."

I close my eyes and lean my head back a little.  And she sticks the stick up my nose.  All the way up.  Right to the back of my head it seems.

Anita and I had been feeling rather under the weather the last few days.  We decided to get a test.  So we both went this morning to a testing center where one drives inside of an arena.

And now we wait.  But I think we're both just tired.  We have computeritis, too much screen time.

And that's what this surreal life is like.  We sat in the hot tub after going for a walk, and just sat there most of the time.  We talked a bit about COVID, and small stuff.  There wasn't much to say.

On our walk we talked about old friends and people we knew that we probably would never see again.  It bit a bit deep.  And we suggested that once we have time on our hands, we need to make an effort just to say hello to some of those people that had crossed our path.

And we noticed how nice the lawns looked and commented how its probably because people had time on their hands.

I expect that many people feel and see the same as we do.  We miss people.  But there's something neat about being able to pause and see the forest for the trees. 

Life goes on

We were saying a few days ago how quickly a week goes by.  And then I thought how slowly two years goes by.  And I think the secret was that a week doesn't hold many expectations, whereas the two years sends hints of retirement and a new normal.

Yesterday we went on a hike at the RBG arboretum.  We wanted to see the lilacs that in many cases were past their prime.  But they were still pretty great.  And then we walked, meandered really, on a trail in the woods while trying to stay spaced from an older gentleman ahead of us who had a camera with a huge lens on it.  He wanted to take pictures of well.... just about everything.  But we weren't in a hurry.   It was the family behind us with I don't know how many kids that was. 

It's interesting how COVID still monopolizes much of our conversation.  Most mornings while in our hot tub we talk about how it impacts our work and what things might look like in September.  And we wonder what our summer will look like and what we'll be able to do and not do.  It's too bad our powers that be are not able to hear us since I'm sure most of our ideas and solutions are just what this country and province needs to do.  Ah well...

And finally, my project for the summer is already done.  I had every intention to build a hosta-bed-retaining-wall over the summer.  But shoot... it's already done.  So now I'm on to other gardening projects.  It's all good and I have this isolation thing to thank for it.

And life goes on...   

Doing nothing

You can tell that we're getting into a bit of a routine, a new normal.  Despite all that is happening around us, there's a sense of being isolated from it all in our little village.  Like being a fly on the wall ... watching, but not being involved.

I'm still reading from Charles Williams, and came upon something to chew on:

"For as far," he added in an unwonted outbreak of anger, "I have done nothing at all.  Nothing. I have been only a useless loquacity."

....

"You may have been more than you know," the Hajji put in.

"Oh I may...", Lord Arglay said.  "They also serve who only sit about and chat.  But after believing in God---"

"Ah but you do!" Chloe cried, "and is that doing nothing?"

I think that goes deep.

Anyway... despite being a fly, life has been so very busy.  I now see why Dad wonders where his days have gone.  I certainly have gotten a lot done around the house, and work has never been busier.  I've been told to slow down... that's not happening.  

I wonder if maybe I need to find time just to believe... and that's not doing nothing.

A quiet Sunday...

Today Anita and I walked on a trail at Princess Point.

Most nights we walk around the neighborhood, but where we live there's only so many places to walk.  At the end of a busy day behind the computer - for both of us now - we enjoy just taking thirty minutes to walk around a block or two.  But today was different.

Princess Point is a fifteen minute drive from our place.  The parking lot was full of cars when we went there... I think everyone else just needed to get out.  There's primarily two trails there... one made from asphalt, another that meanders lazily through a woods, over bridges, along water.  We didn't take the asphalt one but noticed folks in suits and dresses did.

 Anyway... this was our first official trail hike.  The Spring flowers were out and folks were fishing and picnicking.  On our way home we said to each other that it was good to be here because we could do stuff like this.

At home I took a glass of red wine out on the back deck and curled up with Charles Williams.  The neighbor next door was making an awful racket rolling his lawn.  And I thought that even in the new normal, things are and will be okay.

I fell asleep...