We had an early start to the day in the drizzly cool air if Rochester. The hotel had a breakfast area included in the rate. I was surprised to find bananas the way I like them: firm and slightly green. We filled up our Yetis and Molly had her 318. Loaded up we pulled out of the hotel en route to Sparkill.

The drive was uneventful except for our podcast session. I usually download a few series of podcasts for a road trip and this was no exception. My go to podcasts are on CBC as I find they have relevant and interesting topics. We started the series on the Huawei case. Admittedly we didn’t know much about the company at all. I remember Rudy asking what it was when he saw the ads during televised sporting events. Now it’s a national news item. The podcast starts at the beginning; right from the plane ride to YVR. It’s interestingly complicated. And it causes you to think about global ripple effects on every business in the emerging markets. We often remark what tiny insignificant micro dots we are on the planet.

The drive to Sparkill takes us through a hilly area that is very beautiful and scenic. I imagine it’s breathtaking during the fall. I tell Rudy that another road trip is in order .. maybe with my friend Cathie in her convertible. Definitely on the list.

Sparkill is located near the Hudson River; it’s a quaint suburb of NYC and the forested landscape has lots of winding roads and angles. And not many sidewalks. As we pull into the parking lot behind my sisters loft, I call The Mountain House http://mountainhousepizza.com/home.html for our dinner. Rudy orders spaghetti and meatballs and I have the oil and garlic linguini. Rudy suggests we order a pizza for the road (breakfast) and I love that idea! While I take Molly for her outing, Rudy picks up our nosh.

We are delighted with our choices and we dig in. Complemented with beers from our Rochester stay we are happy campers. Rudy finds a suitably violent movie on demand and we hunker down. After the movie I make my daily call to the folks. All’s well at their end. My dad is enjoying his grandson and the endless card games. I know the feeling! Thanks Benji!!

It’s an early night. We settle into the soft lovely bed and conk out.

Good night NY.

As a result we are up reasonably early too. Pack up and go. Thanks sissy.

It’s a beautiful day in the neighbourhood.

Day 1 – on the road

Today after our tearful goodbyes, we hit the road. Dog, bikes, packed to the hilt with “stuff”. (Note to self: We need to get better at what we schlep). It was a dreary grey day but unseasonably mild; perfect for driving. Rudy needed to gas up so we stopped on our way out of Stratford. And we’re off. Driving spells snooze for me unless I’m behind the wheel. Boring. I wake up around Aberfoyle and Rudy realizes he’s left his credit card in the gas pump. I call the station and sure enough it’s been turned in (on Boxing Day no less! Honest shoppers!!) and I ask Tina to swing by and get it. Check.

As we pass through Hamilton the traffic picks up. The malls are busy! We are earlier than expected and I let my friend know we will be able to pop in to inspect her new digs in Niagara Falls. I set the gps for her new address and arrival time is approximately noon.

She’s on the south side of St Catherines near Lundys Lane. It’s a beautiful new subdivision surrounded by fields and forested green space. We find her place and I immediately take Molly for a quick stroll. As suspected she was ready for a 318 and a few pees. Rudy knocks on our friends door and she welcomes us in. We leave Molly in her car seat so she doesn’t track gravel and wet paws into the new house. We are only stopping for a quick coffee. Or so we thought!

SQ takes us on a tour of the house. It’s super cute located at the end of a private road second unit from the end. It has a single car garage that’s spacious enough for her suv and plenty of walk around space. Immediately on the left is a cozy sitting room/spare bedroom. Next to that is a large bathroom/laundry combo with a walk-in glass shower. Further down the hallway the space opens up into an open concept kitchen/dining/living room with a walkout onto a spacious covered deck that’s screened in overlooking the forested green space. It’s very quiet and serene. Privacy fences maximize the view and minimize the neighbours. Off the living room is the master suite with a large bedroom, walk-in closet and en-suite complete with soaker tub and glass shower. The stairs off the kitchen lead you down into a full finished basement that includes another tv area, bedroom, bathroom with a “party” shower, huge furnace/storage room and another area with table and chairs. The layout is perfect and flows nicely. I know she will be so happy there for years to come. Not to mention it’s lock and leave since the grounds are professionally maintained.

Back in the kitchen/dining area the new dining table has been set for four complete with cutlery for a three course meal. What!?!? We were popping in for coffee! We start with sundries tomato basil soup (yum), creamy potato salad, mixed green salad with mandarin and pomegranate seeds topped with poppyseed dressing, a baked spiral ham that could feed an army and a dessert (freshly baked) consisting of fruit salad cake and ice cream. Whoa. How do you spell piggy?? S-U-S-A-N-N-E!!

We literally rolled out of there feeling like a nap! As soon as we got into the car Rudy’s daughter called for the Christmas chat. We had a nice conversation and covered all the updates. She has some time off while her hubby heads back to work tomorrow.

I plug the Peace Bridge into the gps and we are off again. We pull into the Nexus lane and there’s one car ahead of us. Literally not even a minute and we’re at the booth. He takes our cards and enters our plate number. Asks Rudy where we’re going and for how long. That’s it. Literally not even a minute. It’s now about 2 ish. We want to find a place before dark.

Highlight: my sister has loaned us her EZ toll pass (like a 407 Transponder) and we pass through two tolls. That was not only convenient it was fast! Thanks sissy!!

Rochester seems like the best target and I google dog friendly hotels. I call the Hampton Inn and reserve a room. Next I plug the address into the gps. As we drive along we pass the exit for Attica. Rudy asks if it’s the same as the prison. More google. Yes. One and the same with the deadly riot in 1971 where many lost their lives. Interesting. We arrive at our destination and while Rudy checks in I take Molly for another outing.

Our room is pleasant enough. King bed (essential) decent bathroom and a small sitting area. First things first: Molly needs water. And I need the facilities. Rudy heads out in search of liquids (bottled water) and snacks. He’s back in no time and I crack a beer. Settling in for the night. Molly is happy to hop on the bed and immediately conks out. I put on my new festive pjs and join her (thanks again sissy!!)

One day closer to summer. Tomorrow: Sparkill NY.

The hierarchy of needs circa 1943 is timeless. It’s as relevant today as ever. For the past two weeks we have been “homeless”. Our home packed up and rented out for the winter ski season. Ten days at my sisters cottage and then four days with family at mom and dads apartment condo. Feeling baseless is a thing. Living out of a duffel bag and trying to stay organized is virtually impossible. You need a mindset of nomad, but that means your hierarchy is shifted down on the scale as you deal with the nomadic lifestyle. It’s not for me I can assure you.

I’m looking forward to getting back on an even keel. Where my belongings are stored and arranged to my satisfaction. Where Molly can relax and settle. Where private moments can be had privately. Everyone needs some space and down time. Alone and quiet in your thoughts. Family gatherings, especially when you’re squished in quarters too tightly, and “living” in a hotel, are hectic and lively at best and chaotic and loud at worst. In the end all’s well but there’s a lot of compromise and flexibility required. Everyone’s in the same boat: out of their routine and natural habitat.

Today was definitely mixed emotions. I’m excited for the adventure to the warmer climes, but leaving my folks behind was hard. Harder than last year. I know that I will see them in a few weeks when they come with my sister, but today they both cried as we hugged and bid farewell. That’s tough. We are part of each others routines and rely on our weekly visits for different reasons. I think seeing my uncle being so frail and ill was a stark reminder of our longevity as he’s only a year older than my dad. It hit us full blast. We are getting older.

So our interactions are all precious and special. We relish our time and enjoy the company and familiarity. Now we also talk about the inevitable and we take reality in stride. It sure makes me sad to see them cry. I try to overcome the sadness knowing that their grandson (my nephew Ben) is with them for a few more days and that our daily phone calls will still take place. I will miss the weekly visits no matter what.

I’m convinced that once all of us return to normal daily habits the bitterness will fade and be replaced with sweetness (and Florida sunshine certainly helps). I think about my friends and family members who have to adjust to holidays on their own by choice or fate. First Christmas without a loved one due to death must be extremely hard. For those who choose not to join the family gatherings I can’t empathize; I’m sure those who have suffered a loss would urge us to embrace and cherish the togetherness. Once it’s gone forever all you have are the memories.

I know I’m lucky. I’m grateful for that. I’m looking forward to calling my parents later today when we settle into our bunk for the night. I can hear my moms voice tell me: hug that Molly. Tonight I will. Tighter than usual.

Family gatherings are bittersweet; there’s a group around the table and you’re grateful. But you can’t help but think of those you love who are missing. We wish they were here.

The table is where it all happens. Cards. Drinks. Food. Laughter. Drinks. Snacks. Drinks. Drinks. In mom and dads little abode, there’s a lengthy dining table that fits everyone. No need for a kids table. We’re all adults. Mostly. And as we enjoy each others company while eating and drinking we reminisce about Christmas feasts of the past.

We also talked about food banks today and how the many charities take advantage of peoples good nature and giving spirit this time of year. People in need are needy throughout the year and not just at Christmas time. My theory is that churches (places of worship in general) who enjoy tax free status should have to open their doors to those in need of daycare, shelter during the day, meals and counsel. Parishioners could provide all of these services to their communities as needed. If more volunteers were required, solicit local high school students. We have so many untapped resources and duplications in our midst.

We shy away from politics because that’s a losing battle. Our dinner table would be as divided as Ottawa and Calgary or Washington and Little Rock.

What did come up, oddly, was an Instagram survey at the university of Albert. Students have started a survey amongst themselves rating departments. Which is worst. Criteria is your personal opinion. So far, engineering is the big loser. Who knew.

Of course after dinner everyone slows down a bit … some for a long winters nap. It’s all good. We solve the worlds problems with full bellies and enthusiasm. Merry Christmas 🎄

I think most people have a poo fixation to some degree. There’s just something about regularity that is fulfilling. Otherwise why would there be so many options advertised like crazy in the media? (Now that I’m typing this I’m wondering to myself if it’s actually me the ads are targeting … have I been profiled as a poo fanatic?)

Luckily I’m fairly regular. When I’m not I’m cranky. I know myself well enough to recognize the disruptions to my well being. The biggest of these is schedule and a close second is place. A good day starts with a routine (slight modifications allowed): coffee, dog walk, bm – in that order. After Rudy has his breakfast (and Molly has hers too) it’s time for a walk. Molly is totally a routine pooper; two or three a day and she’s a happy girl. Sometimes on the morning walk she has two (we call that “double Dutch”) so it’s always a best practice to have two bags ready.

After the walk Rudy is busy with whatever and that’s my personal best time. I might have another cup of coffee and read the paper or some news on my device. But in a perfect world that’s when nature calls. Now in retirement mode, this ritual takes place mid morning. Say 9:30 or 10 am. I’m not an early morning person. Never was. Never will be.

If the schedule is disrupted (like yesterday) due to travel plans then that spells trouble. My system can’t be rushed. It also isn’t awake before 8 am. Yesterday started at 6:30 am. Yuck. We were packing and gathering and sorting. All in a half sleep state. It’s still pitch dark out at that ungodly hour! Molly complies and her routine adjusts nicely. We are in the car by 7:30 am. It’s a two hour drive to our first destination and since Rudy is far more of a morning person he is the driver. Molly and I nap the entire way.

We drop Molly at her grooming appointment (the reason for the early start) and head out for breakfast. I’m not a breakfast person (mornings are tricky for me in any event, but eggs and breakfast foods are not my favourite) but by the time we get to eat it feels like lunch. Rudy is aware of my preferences so he’s trying to accommodate. I order the breakfast poutine which is a mash up of wieners, skillet potatoes, bacon, cheese and peppers. It’s really tasty. With coffee and water.

Then we run our errands. It’s not fun this time of year. Everyone seems to be on edge and distracted in their holiday frenzy. We finish our errands and make our way back to the groomer neighbourhood. We are too early. Molly is still in situ. So we head to the local diner called the Whistle Stop. I’m sure in the day it was a trackside venue for a quick fix. But nowadays it’s a convenience store/coffee shop. A local gathering place common to country villages. We sit and order drinks; Perrier for me and coffee for Rudy. It’s a busy place and I feel obligated to order food just to take up space. We agree to split a sandwich while we read the paper.

I’m starting to relax and feel normal again. The unpleasant ruse of earlier is fading. Along with that is Mother Nature starting to call. I try to tell her it’s a wrong number. Look where we are?? I’m in a rustic diner! I can’t take her call here!! She persists and I have no option. I walk the plank.

This is where disruption number two (place) has a gripping effect on me. I’m usually firmly resolved not to use sketchy bathrooms. My brain is able to send a strong cease and desist notice to my urges that allow me to hold all actions until the brain senses a suitable place. Better to have the uncomfortable feeling than deal with the psychological fallout from using a bad bathroom. For example, I would rather have a bladder implode than use an outhouse or Johnny on the spot. Period.

Yesterday I used the diner facilities. I had no choice. Sadly, along with sub-standard surroundings, these convenience locations have another pitfall: single ply toilet paper. It feels like using your bare hands unless you bunch up a good sized wad. Of course , in their efforts to be frugal and eco-friendly, someone like me ruins the notion. (In this case it could also be necessity to assist the ancient plumbing and lack of water pressure) Too much TP equals flushing problems. It was a five flusher for this reason. I’m sure some unsuspecting staff had to plunge. Sorry.

My good friends have a cottage. It’s spectacular in many ways … remote, secluded, off the grid (in every way) but has (had) no indoor plumbing. There was an envirolet toilet on the inside for peeing only. Peeing was a process. Firstly you add peatmoss with a small bulk barn scooper into the toilet (there’s no water in the bowl; in fact the bowl opens to a trough below). Then you pee. But the tp does not go in the toilet; it is placed in a waste paper bin. Then you add more peatmoss to the trough. No flush. But here’s the thing: a girls weekend means lots of drinking (and peeing) which on a good weekend you do dockside and in the lake however on this weekend it rained so we were trapped indoors. Not pretty for someone who has a toilet phobia (yes, that’s a real thing; google it)

Worse. For bm you have to use the outhouse. Located a short (but necessary obviously) distance from the cottage via a dirt pathway into the woods is the outhouse with a wooden/screen door. On day three of the girls weekend I got the call from Mother Nature. It was an urgent call that I needed to answer. My friends were cheering me on … it’s a big moment. I dashed out the door, into the drizzle, down the dirt (wet muddy) path to the outhouse. I pant using my mouth so I don’t inhale a smell that will trigger my gag reflex. As I approach the outhouse there’s a voice yelling “occupied” through the screen. Someone else is using the outhouse!! Oh no!!

Then there’s a flurry of reaction: I gasp and breathe in through my nose; the rainy low pressure has magnified the stench; I whip around to race back to dry land; I slip and slide through the mud back to the porch; my cheerleaders are waiting for the great news report. Occupied. That word is seared into my memory for all time. I’m practically in tears. What should have been extreme release and vindication became tortured agony. I was, eventually, able to complete my mission. However, I have not been able to return to the cottage under any conditions. They now have indoor plumbing but the ptsd from my first experience is overwhelming.

Others are far more liberal about their functions. I have a friend who makes it her first activity of the day. Wake and go. My sisters like that too. They semi brag about it. I seethe. Rudy’s friend has a weak bowel due to contracting a parasite years before; he goes within minutes of any meal. Like clockwork.

Others see poo as a science experiment: how well do we digest foods? My brother and sister (as kids) decided to challenge the claim (urban myth started by teachers to thwart gum chewing ) that swallowing gum builds up like a brick wall in your gut causing untold emergencies. They chewed entire packs of hubba bubba and swallowed it so they could scrutinize their poo subsequently. It turns out that gum is easily processed. Most people test the theory of digestion with corn. Many flush without even looking! That’s a sin.

It’s easy to poke fun at someone like me. I get it. I’ve been given poo gifts. Such as mugs, books, calendars. Funny toilet paper is another. Go ahead and laugh I think to myself. The next time you have complications you’ll know the feeling.

I wish you all free and clear movements.

May you never experience: Occupied!!!

My husband has a funny saying. When people ask, for example, how he feels about retiring he will say: I retired with mixed emotions; joy and happiness. The Christmas season is full of mixed emotions. But not always joy and happiness. This year, more than usual for some reason, I’m noticing a lot of people are downright miserable. I’ve tried to get a handle on it discussing possible scenarios with Rudy. But I think a good old fashioned interactive survey is in order. I’m going to start with my own family. I think the results may be surprising.

I personally love Christmas and everything about it. It’s a joyful time in so many ways. But I choose to see the positive side of the two-sided coin.

Like family gatherings it’s wonderful to have kinfolk assembled for meals and libations. No matter the menu or the venue it’s cheerful and lively. For some, however, it’s a stress sandwich. Rather than delight in the company they stress about who’s not there; some by choice, done by fate and some by tragedy/death. They agonize over the menu. It’s never enough, they forgot something, food is over/undercooked. Libations are truth serum; some get melancholy while others lose their filter. Others (clearing my throat) turn the event into a raging karaoke party. Groan.

Gift giving is so sweet. You show your love and friendship by choosing thoughtful gifts for your loved ones. And their reaction upon receipt is priceless. (Well maybe not the suture clip from my brother with personal nose hair attached). Rudy always has a bag of tricks too. It’s a highlight to have him haul out the knapsack at the end of the gift frenzy. He’s usually stumbled on one store late Christmas Eve. My dad has long ago given up on the gift thing. Funny when I reminded him about the fountain pen he didn’t recall that, but he does remember all the gifts he used to by for my mom only to be rebuffed. (He bought her expensive perfume; it gave her a headache. Chanel No 5?? He bought her a beautiful outfit. It’s wool; too itchy. He bought her jewelry. Not her style. He bought her an electric knife. How unromantic. He couldn’t win so he gave up). When I see the jammed stores and parking lots I imagine shoppers hustling and bustling in complete denial of the bills next month.

We aren’t religious anymore. I think we have our personal spirituality it’s just not displayed in an organized way in church. I must admit that the church gathering and hymn singing is comforting and peaceful. It also forces you to focus on the meaning of Christmas. I would love to attend a service if anyone was interested. But. A family festive gathering is enlightening too.

My personal opinion on the foul moods and anger in general this time of year is due to light (sunlight) deprivation. The shortest day and longest night is Dec 21! No wonder the wise men could follow the star .. it was visible for over 12 hours! Darkness can be menacing. Most scary movies take place in the dark. Nefarious activities are carried out under the cloak of darkness. Severus Snape was the Professor of the Dark Arts. I think Christmas is a Beacon during the seasons darkest days. Twinkling lights and decorations brighten the dark skies. Our annual tradition of touring for lights has been interesting there’s so many creative installations. There are a few Griswold types still out there. (I should add that this year our tour was complemented by a special hot cocoa that was simply delicious). Bringing light into the season is lovely and necessary.

Snow. Sure, lots of people are dreaming of a white Christmas. Winter sports depending on the snow are overjoyed with snowy forecasts. I think snow is a gorgeous backdrop to Christmas. But it can wreak havoc on simple things like dog walking and driving. In fact, we operate our schedules for travelling based on snow conditions. Who wants to turn a short drive into a blizzard-ly marathon? No thanks. When I hear about the fatal 20 car pike ups I cringe. I can’t imagine such devastation especially at this time of year. Emotions are high.

Marketing madness. It’s Q4 for retailers and the ads and gimmicks are flourishing. Charitable organizations prey on our willingness to give at this time of year the opportunities are abundant. Kettles at every store. Grocery gift boxes overflowing with donations. Feed the world flyers jamming mailboxes. (I wonder if it’s the same marketing geniuses that came up with UNICEF boxes around every kids neck at Halloween… we still used pennies then). Then the cynical types flooding social media with the list of charities showing how much from each dollar actually gets used for good rather than administrative costs (and marketing). Like union dues and taxes, we never seem to get a straight answer on the real size if the pie and how it’s divvied up.

Is the cup half full or empty. I think this comparison is particularly pertinent at this time of year. Is it as simple as choosing to be grateful and positive or do the Christmas blues really exist for some no matter what. I’m grateful for the family that gathers and toast those who aren’t there in person. I’m grateful for the bounty of food and drink and the ability to cook for others and enjoy their enjoyment. I’m grateful my parents are still with us to celebrate knowing that many wish for the same. I’m grateful for the companionship of my husband and my dog. I’m grateful I have such an amazing sister (who’s heart is as big as her brain). I’m grateful for our freedom and being able to experience winter without snow (Florida here we come). I’m grateful for real friends. My cup isn’t half full. It runneth over.

Merry Christmas 🎄

That’s how many collective years of history were in the room for lunch the other day. We were celebrating a couple of birthdays; my mom turns 83 today and my uncle turned 89 on Monday. Adding my dad and aunts 87’s in there that’s a lot. So much life lived. The thought that most of your life span is in the rear view mirror is jolting.

My parents were born in the 1930’s. We know from history classes that the dirty thirties were a hard time. The Great Depression. An entire world in economic crisis. On the heels of the worst depression comes a world war. Total devastation of their country. Starvation and refugees. Then in the 1950’s new adventures in a Canadian frontier. In the 1960’s starting a family. Three kids later …

Major changes throughout their lives yet, in many ways, old fashioned. Technology for example eluded them. There’s many times where they are baffled by the digital advances.

But I’m always in awe of their resilience and the survival instinct of humans in general. You take the hand you were dealt and work with it. Put your trauma into a compartment and live your life.

My dad has a scar on his upper lip. I asked him how he got it. He was about 4 or 5 years old. His parents owned a business. A Wirtschaft. He and his brother were fooling around. One chased the other and the glass pane in a door cracked. A jagged piece fell on my dad and cut his lip.

From some of the other stories it would appear that my dad was a bit wild and unruly but more often than not left his brother holding the bag and taking the blame. They both laugh at the memories.

Next year will be a collective 350 years … it’s awesome and too real. I wish they could live forever.

I found my Thrills …. on the nightstand. Next to my temporary bed. Thanks to my sister. She put them there for my chewing pleasure. She knows I love Thrills.

Gum has been a love hate relationship in my life.

When I was chewing with abandon, my mom used to call me Pat Quinn. Apparently he was an aggressive open mouth chewer. Gum is a stress reliever. I’m no NHL coach but I can imagine the anxiety and pressure. Gum helps.

It’s also a status symbol. Well it was in grade 8. Hubba Bubba was a thing. If you had the flavours you were all that. Daily fruit intake via gum. But science teacher Mr Pethic (nickname “pathetic”) was a stickler for the anti gum rules. Hence my punishment for getting caught with a mouthful wad: writing “I will not chew gum ” to fill the chalk board. A bit embarrassing albeit, but a huge reprieve from boring science and, better yet, a chance to write on the chalkboard. I firmly believe that pathetic had no idea he was making my day.

My brother and sister had other (strange) ideas about Hubba Bubba. Teachers used to have a zillion reasons why gum was horrible. Among the top five was that if you swallowed it you wouldn’t digest it and it would clog your innards. This was like a challenge to my sibs. There were a bit nerdy and inquisitive. Hence the gum digestion challenge. Eat an entire pack and swallow after chewing. Then assemble around the toilet the next day after a BM to see the results. Thanks to the experiment we never worried about swallowing gum again. It’s just like corn after all.

Going on a date without gum is like wearing dirty underwear. It’s not cool. Minty (or watermelon or strawberry for that matter) breath is essential. A mega smooch session requires gum breath. Period.

Going to court, however, is a gum restricted activity. In fact, there’s gum police. If you’re caught chewing gum in court (guilty your honour) the court clerk gum control person confronts you and chastises you. It’s verboten and enforced. Rationale?? Who knows. But it’s perfectly okay to dis the judge and process with lewd behaviour. Hmmm … whatever.

If you go on holiday to a poor area (third world Caribbean nation for example) they tell you the kids love gum. Pack extra to hand out. What they don’t tell you is you get swarmed. And yelled at. They don’t want gum per se. They want money!!

One of my all time favourite gum brands is Thrills. I have never chewed soap but apparently it’s what soap tastes like. It’s hard to find but my sister has found a supplier. I’m grateful. It’s been too long since I’ve had some Thrills.

Does everyone get excited about writing tools? There’s just something about the feel of a lovely pen in my hand that makes we want to write and scribble. Just now I was compelled to complete the entire Saturday Star crossword because I liked the pen so much. It’s my sisters from her pen jar by the door. And I think I’m going to steal it.

It’s nothing fancy. A black fine tipped sharpie that emits the finest scrawl when applied to paper. It’s a light feathery script that is making me happy to sit and doodle. I’m going to start on the Globe crossword next. Why end the ecstasy if I don’t have to. Particularly since Rudy and Molly are curled up snoozing while the snow gently falls outside. It’s like a Christmas card over here! Thanks Tina and Frank!

Musing to myself about how much I like to write with a pen, I recalled a memory from so many years ago. I think I was in grade 5. My favourite teacher EVER, Ken Dawson, was teaching us how to write cursive and how the writing instrument could make all the difference. I took everything he said to heart. Even reading Farley Mowat at the age of 10 when Nancy Drew was “it”. Mr Dawson told us fountain pens was where it was at. He also made us swoon (as much as grade givers can do so) when he picked up his guitar and sang Blowin in the Wind. Ok. Back to pens. Mr Dawson used a fountain pen himself and let us try it out.

I must have broken speed records running home to tell my parents I needed a fountain pen. My very life depended on it. They seemed unconvinced by my life and death situation. And eventually another grade five angst-ridden issue took over. I felt happy using Mr Dawson’s pen in class. Mostly because it was his and he was trusting me with it. After all, it was the Pen he used to grade us on report cards! A sacred utensil.

Months rolled by and Christmas arrived. My friend Ruth was getting earth shoes and Levi cords in cool colours. She always got tons of stuff. We celebrate Christmas on Christmas Eve. The routine was for us to walk up to church for the Christmas concert and when we walked (ran in a frenzy) home, somehow, perfectly magically, there would be presents under the tree. As a kid you naturally think bigger is better. So when my dad handed me a smallish box with a knowing smile on his face I was a bit disappointed. I unwrapped the box and it looked like a long jewellery box inside. I snapped the clamshell open. Inside laid the surprise of my life. A fountain pen.

I was so stunned I couldn’t even breathe. Dad said he had ink too and we could practice later at the table. Who knew a) that my dad was listening when I gushed about fountain pens and b) that he even knew what it was. Now I can sit back and imagine my dad going to the local stationary store and asking about fountain pens. Then choosing one for me. Feeling happy and proud that he could give such a meaningful gift. What a beautiful memory.

I still have that pen. It’s ink long dried. 45 years later.

Today as I write electronically it’s an old fashioned notion. One that I will treasure.

p.s. Mr Dawson is my security answer to “who was your favourite teacher”

It’s Friday the 13th but I’m feeling lucky. Superstition aside, today was a great day. The sun came out after an incredible full moon the night before and it was 4C. A whole lot better than the -9C from a few days ago. Funny how weather is a hot topic this time of year. Windchill. Streamers. Flurries. Squalls. All spell yuck.

But today was almost spring-like. It’s a bonus to get a great day this time of year.

Today was great in other ways too. It’s a result of just hanging out. Nothing to do. Nowhere to go. No one to see. Just hanging. Leisurely walk followed by a leisurely breakfast (except for the Nespresso machine; that thing hates me!) followed by a few errands. Including getting a new insurance company for our house and saving a bundle (thank you for dropping the ball Intact). Followed by a steak dinner/late lunch barbecued to perfection by the grill master Rudy. Followed by another beautiful walk in the sunshine.

And then Christmas movies complemented with rum and eggnog. A festive end to a lovely day. Including my daily call to the folks. All’s well on the parental front. Sigh of contentment.

We casually review our schedule for the next few days. There’s a lot of potential activity in the hopper. All of it requires a hefty commute. Not sure if that’s going to happen. Perhaps Lady Luck will intervene and a blast of seasonal weather will preclude any travel plans. Either way, today was a perfect day … in the lucky one.