One of my all time favourite German Christmas carols which translates to: quietly falls the snow. That’s a fitting vision for our day today. A full covering of white stuff with more coming down. Big chunky white flakes of Canadian weather.

The first real snow fall is awe inspiring. (I’m not counting the short lived sugar coating we had at Halloween). This is the real deal. I won’t be surprised to see snow plows today! With some colourful leaves still on the trees this snowfall is breathtaking. You can admire it, in my view, for a day or two. Then that’s enough. Well. Maybe a little dusting at Christmas.

What I dislike most about the winter season is the bundling up. I’m a flip flop kind of girl and winter means socks, boots and a host of other protective clothing. The thing is, I sweat. No matter what. So I bundle up for the elements only to start unzipping and unwinding as I go. It’s usually while walking the dog. I can feel the steam start to rise and fog up my glasses. Then the clammy wetness around my head. Hats are the first to go. Followed by scarf. Mittens. And so on. I must be a vision.

For those who embrace winter in all its splendour today’s weather is a bonanza. I can just imagine the retailers scrambling to set up their festive displays. Haul out the ice and snow scrapers. Set up the antifreeze at the front entrance. There’s nothing like a good dumping of snow to get everyone in a holiday spirit.

But we live in ski country. This is the Mecca for all things winter. We enjoy holiday house tours and a ski village decorated to the nines. There’s even a Blumination Trail where visitors can meander through elaborate light displays complemented by music. Yes folks. It’s a way to get winter-types ready for ski season and lure them to spend their dough before the slopes open for business.

Many of the dormant homes will now start to come alive as seasonal residents return to enjoy the social life of the hills. It is a whole new group of people and it’s very interesting to watch. Of course we lose daylight around 4 pm now so homes are beautifully illuminated in the spirit of the season.

Rudy and I are looking forward to escaping the cold winter months. Another family will be enjoying our home while we soak up the sun. It’s the perfect trade. And one that we embrace.

For now, though, I have my radio dial set to the Hallmark holiday channel and the TV cued with Christmas movies. I’m going to savour the sights and sounds of Canada’s winter until we migrate in a few weeks.

Ho Ho Ho 🎅🏼

The last thing you want to hear your dad say when you call is: I really screwed up today. In the flash of a microsecond your brain kicks into high gear and dozens of horrific scenarios play like a crazed video in your head. Then you hear your fake calm voice say: why, dad? What happened?

Then the story unfolds.

Well, I picked your mom up at her exercise class (I’m seeing a trip or fall…) and we decided that we were going to have steak for lunch. (Hmmmm …. okay) and your mom suggested she could make french fries. (Ya …. and?) but I told her I didn’t want the greasy smell in the house. So we drove to Ken’s.

Note: mom and dad eat their main meal at noon; mom exercises from 9:30 am to 10:30 am. So the timing here is around 10:45 am. I’m guessing.

When we got to Kens they were having a problem with the propane. (Ummmm … like they just opened and hadn’t fired the fryer up? Maybe?) So we waited. Then I ordered the fries and they put it in a cup overfilling it. (Oh, the cup tipped and you distractingly had a fender bender …) I gave the cup to mom to hold while I drove. And mom said I should eat the top fries to avoid a spill. So I did. By the time we got home the fries were almost gone. But I polished off the rest with ketchup. They were delicious.

Oh. Great dad. But how did you screw up?? (As I simultaneously breathe a sigh of relief that none of my scenarios was even remotely in the wheel house). Well, he says, by the time I ate the fries I wasn’t hungry anymore. So we skipped lunch. Mom put the steak back in the fridge. Right. So what did mom have for lunch. (Keeping in mind that dads the cook now).

Your mother had some crackers with liverwurst. Did you know Sobeys sells only Brandt now. Pillers is out. Aha! That’s the screw up. My mom didn’t get lunch … she likely complained and nagged the entire afternoon. I can hear the conversation in my mind:

I’m not hungry now because I ate the fries.

That’s ok. We can eat the steak later.

I can make the steak for you.

No. I don’t want that much. I’ll put it back in the fridge.

Ok. But what are you going to eat?

Don’t worry. I’m not that hungry. I’ll have some crackers.

Let me make you something.

No. I’m fine.

Ok. I have to go out to Walmart. I see you later.

**mom stews that dad would ruin their lunch. Dad carries on like the matter is closed **

Do you why I went to Walmart? He asks me. I guess you needed Aquafresh toothpaste? Right on! He says. I can only get my toothpaste at Walmart. Then, excitedly, he tells me about the “cheese aisle”. Did you know they have a whole aisle of only cheese?? I can find any cheese in one place. At Sobeys I have to look in a few places. I might shop at Walmart from now on if they sell Sensations ham. I let him know that Sensations is the Sobeys name brand so Walmart won’t sell it. Oh, he says disappointedly. I really like Walmart.

I guess he’s forgotten how bitterly he used to berate the retail behemoth. Times have changed.

When he gets home from his outing and the glucose rush from the starchy fries has worn off, he’s hungry again. So is mom. Mom has pulled a frozen dinner from the freezer. They heat it in the toaster oven (they push the “toast” button repeatedly until the food is warm since they don’t know how to reset the program).

They have a late dinner of red cabbage, potatoes and chicken. Whew.

Having grown up in Stratford and being addicted to Kens, I know all to well the pitfall. I’ve screwed up a few times myself.

Water is a force to be reckoned with. Living on the waters edge allows us front row seats to Mother Nature’s mood swings. One moment she’s calming and soothing. And the next she is angry and destructive. Lately it’s been the latter.

At a recent gathering at our place, one of our guests remarked that her grandfather, a nautical sort, used to talk about the three day blow. A gale wind foretelling of weather to come and seasons changing. It’s frightening to hear the blow. It rattled everything not securely tied and causes the waves to pummel the shoreline. Our neighbour came over to ask if we’d seen his launch ramp. A large aluminum structure that was ripped away and carried off. No. We don’t have the ramp but we do have missing stone steps and a few washed up trees.

There has been extensive damage reported around the Great Lakes. We were in good company. The devastation is profound. A provincial park near us was in the path of the battering sea. The row of campsites at waters edge are destroyed.

What is helping the disaster is the unusually high water levels. Heights not seen since the early 80’s according to those from the area. Of course in 2019 it’s global warming. So we wonder if the levels will again recede. Or if the mega power plant quietly planned for Meaford is enjoying the high surge. After all, the plant depends on sucking in and spitting out millions of gallons each day.

Regardless of the final outcomes, fall has descended on us. I’m officially looking forward to warmer climes.

Ahoy!

When I wake up in the morning I like to lie in bed (lounging beside Molly and Rudy) wrapped in my own thoughts. It’s a luxury of retirement and one of the best perks in my opinion. For years my overthinking mind would rudely startle me from my sleep. A perpetual to-do list churning and raging and nagging. This same mindset would carry on as I showered, dressed, walked the dog, commuted to work. In fact, it haunted me the whole day. Ticking off completed tasks while new ones merged into the mix. Stress at its finest. Now I simply enjoy the view.

I often think of my sister and her crazy routine. I admire her tenacity and grit. I feel sorry that she’s in constant motion. Then I remind myself that while you’re in you can’t imagine the other side. I used to think retirees were bored and wasting their talents. How wrong I was. But it took the actual (very scary I might add) action of retirement to open my eyes.

When I called my folks yesterday mom was already in bed so I chatted with dad. After the usual phone issues (which now make me laugh they’re so routine) we review his weekend. My sister came to visit. It was a flurry of activity. They carved a pumpkin and roasted the seeds. My dad really liked the seeds. That made me chuckle. My dad has had an aversion to pumpkins for as long as I can recall. When we hung up Rudy commented that it was interesting to hear my sister insisted on a pumpkin carving and seed roasting. A week earlier I had done the same. Rudy mused that it must have been a family tradition. Nope. I can’t ever remember carving a pumpkin unless it was at school or a friends house. It was never a tradition at our place. For reasons I can’t recall. Perhaps my sister knows.

Dads big enjoyment was creating the pumpkin face with a marker. His design will now be lit up for him to admire. My big surprise is that he liked the seeds! Carving a pumpkin was a welcome diversion for my dad… was my sister able to escape her stress treadmill enough to enjoy the moments too? I hope so … she made my dads day and better than the seeds is the joy of his experience. Pumpkin $3.99 – dads enthusiasm: priceless

My sister and I often do similar things that we notice or Rudy does. It’s a bit of a phenomenon. We meet up after weeks apart and have the same colour nail polish on. We buy similar household items. We fold and stack our towels the same. It’s a long list of sameness.

One day she too will retire and we can enjoy new views together. I can’t wait.

When I visit my mom and dad it’s usually their choice to go out for lunch. I call them every day to check in and start the reminding process of what’s ahead on their schedule. If they hear it enough times there’s a better chance it could sink in. I let them know I’m coming days in advance so they aren’t caught off guard (they like to stay in their pjs and lounge unless there’s something going on… luckily mom has activities 3 days a week!).

As soon as I say I’m coming my dad immediately says “let’s go out for lunch”. My mom says “is Molly coming”. I say I can bring Molly (she likes to feed her) but then we have to eat in. I can’t expect Molly to ride in the car for 2 hours then wait in the car another hour while we eat. There’s a disconnect somewhere. Either dad has tuned moms comment and my answer out or he’s made up his mind already and moved on. Whatever the issue is all he knows is I’m coming and we are eating out.

When I arrive my mom asks where Molly is. I tell her it was dads decision to eat out. Now there’s a quandary. Mom accuses dad of being the reason Molly is absent. The most confusing (and hilarious) spat ensues. It’s over without resolve when dad declares we are going to Molly Blooms (a local pub) for lunch. Now I wonder when I call that dad is thinking food Molly (Blooms) rather than canine Molly. I will never know. My parents brains are firing at a whole new dimension and speed.

I don’t have the heart to tell dad that Molly Blooms is a rather depressing dark pub where tabletops are usually sticky and the smell of spilt beer is pervasive. Dad, I think, likes it for a few reasons: he’s familiar with it, they serve Guinness on tap, there’s TVs all over the place. When mom and dad go out alone I think he likes the tv entertainment. But I don’t like the parking and the stairs. Neither is suited to mobility challenged seniors. There’s so many other options.

So I convince dad that we should explore other options in town and find a few more favourites. Moms in favour of that. Dad agrees. He’s very agreeable when he’s hungry. I usually bring a bunch of stuff when I come. This time it was frozen dinners that I made, some homemade soup, crackers for mom (that dad can’t find anywhere driving my mom bonkers) and a tiny food chopper for dad. He thinks gadgets will improve his culinary prowess. Hmmm that’s Mr Frying Pan we’re talking about. We quickly put their haul away. Moms already firm that Frank will be eating soup when he arrives the next day. Dad is eager to go and eat.

I suggest Kelseys. Off we go to “the mall”. As we drive dad states that he’s never been there. Good I say; something new is nice for a change. I’m sure dad would like to debate that but he’s too hungry to bother. We pull up to the mall and are shocked to find that Kelseys is now Montana’s. And there’s a construction crew digging a new pad next door. Progress in the big city. We have to navigate the parking lot to find a spot close to the door. And we walk in. Mom comments on how wide and open it all is. I’ve never really stopped to consider accessibility to establishments but I’m starting to get it. Molly Blooms is very inaccessible in comparison. As we get out of the car mom tells us she had another mini stroke. I ask her what that feels like and she starts to explain that it’s a dizzy spell followed by a short time out where she’s not sure what happens. Dad quickly jumps in to say she should drink more water rather than wine. Case closed. Dads a bit of a bully. Plus he’s hangry.

We are greeted by a friendly hostess who sees mom with her cane in one hand and dad in the other. She immediately finds us a close by table rather than booth. And we’re near the windows. Nice and bright and spacious. We order drinks (mom chooses soda water) and I ask for a small garlic bread to take dads edge off. He loves it. And devours every greasy cheesy bite with relish.

Dad orders steak. Mom fish and chips. She’s got this thing about gravy lately. It’s a fixation. (“I’m not going back there because they didn’t give me gravy”). Yikes. Mom can eat. But her first mission is to examine her plate for what she can share. She starts to move her fries around and gather plates. Dads steak is obviously very tasty. But he stops mid bite to tell mom to stop messing around with her food. Admonished she stops and starts to eat. She steadily devours the fish leaving the fries she wanted to share. Then dad reminds her that there’s gravy. She starts eating the gravy with her fork. Then the fries get dunked. Yes. Good gravy. I’m not sure whether to burst out laughing or in tears. Moms brain has left the building.

Dad wishes he had room for dessert. He shouldn’t have eaten the garlic bread he tells me. Oops. His next statement could earn me some disdain: “I’m bringing Tina and Frank here. They will love it!” Sorry Teen.

We get back home to their place. Dad now is fully focused on a card game. He’s been super lucky lately and enjoying every winning second. Mom starts to putter in the kitchen. She’s annoyed that we’re full and she can’t serve anything. She rummages through the new goodies. Taking some kind of inventory. Then asks me to come into the kitchen. (She has very devious ways to disrupt our card games). She holding a plastic bread bag with two frozen pounds of butter. You have to take these home she says. Why? Because we haven’t eaten salted butter in years and your dad bought it by mistake. I say to leave it in the freezer for now. She’s not happy with that. She wants dad to know he bought the wrong butter. Now dad gets in on it; he’s not impressed with the inconvenience. After back and forth trying to reason he loses his temper and mom puts the butter in the freezer. “See how he is?”

We continue the card game. Dad loses. Thanks to mom he says. I have to go. It’s almost 4 pm. Then the phone rings. I jump up to answer. It’s Mr Deitering (their former neighbour who visits on Fridays) as I’m talking the phone dies. Dad says “what happened”. I say their here to visit but he hung up. Dad grabs the phone. It’s dead. As he’s pondering the dead phone, another phone rings. Dad enters the code to unlock the front door. It’s chaos and bedlam!

Stimulation overload. People coming. People going. Phones ringing.

I make a dash for the door before the visitors arrive. I’m already running late if I plan to drive home in daylight. I say bye at the door and make my way to the elevator with my vag of empty food and egg containers. When I realize moms behind me. Mom you have company coming you have to go back. She’s confused. All the activity has thrown her for a loop. I hug and kiss her and spin her around.

I think about their routine and their life as I drive home. It’s a beautiful dusk sky and the sun is shining brightly through cloud breaks creating an Easter card-like beaming sensation on the fall trees. The scene is breathtaking and ironic. A gorgeous ray of light casting its glow in a stream of clarity. I relate the vision to mom and dad. They spend their days in a routine and in between they have beaming rays of light. Memories. Funny moments. Good music.

I’m comforted that they have each other. My drive home is filled with reminiscing and gratefulness.

When I get home I’m greeted by Molly and Rudy and Otto. Good to be home.

I unpack my bag. I have the butter. Mom snuck it in my bag. I can only laugh out loud.

They say absence makes the heart grow fonder. That may be, but with friends it’s like no time has passed at all when you see them after a long absence. They’re never really absent after all.

We met friends last night for drinks. We hadn’t seen them in almost a year. When they arrived we were waiting at the bar. We hugged. We smiled. And then carried on a conversation over the din. It was like we saw them last week. The last time we met we agreed to get together. It was wishful thinking. Life got in the way and a year slipped by.

These aren’t bosom buddy friends. We don’t know intimate details of each others lives. But we enjoy each others company and like hanging out. They’re the people who loaned us a cage for Otto. (He is too big for the average cat cage) They had a small dog crate on hand that they weren’t using. They offered it to ya without hesitation when I mentioned moving the cat to his winter home. That was last year. The last time we saw them before last night. We still have the cage. Good thing because we will need it again shortly!

Catching up on things is interesting. Funny how we can sum up life’s events in no time but as life is happening it’s slow motion. Especially when there’s something uncomfortable… it drags on forever. Yet looking back it’s a mere footnote. So weird. Like an hour of exercise lasts for days and a massage is over in micro-minutes.

Today I’m meeting an old friend/colleague for tea. I haven’t seen her in a few years in person. We stay connected virtually. She’s coming to town for a doctors appointment and suggested we meet. What a lovely surprise.

The other day another friend suggested we see a play when she’s in town. Love to. It’s Menopause The Musical. That’s very appropriate I’d say.

We have a lot of friends like that since we moved up north. We don’t see everyone regularly. Makes the reunion that much better. I saw a post today on social media. It was a revamped closet; a room converted to a grand dressing space. Nah. I’ll keep the bedroom. I’d rather have guests than shoes.

See you soon! Let’s catch up 🍷

I just got off the phone with my folks and I have tears of laughter in my eyes. They crack me up.

First I asked my dad who’s going to win the election. He tells me, very matter of factly, that it will be a tie and the NDP will be the tie breakers. Nothing will get done in the next 4 years. Then he reminds me he’s not voting (it’s a long story about registration and “not being invited”) so who cares. He’s too old anyway.

He immediately switches gears and tells me how he prepared their dinner (it’s actually their lunch as they eat their main meal at noon time). This is a big deal now that my dad is the shopper and the cook. He’s very picky in a way and it can drive my mom crazy. He likes bland; she likes flavour. The spicier the better.

Today he decided he would make steak accompanied by cauliflower he bought on the weekend and french fries that my mom has been complaining about for months since my dad bought a frozen bag and it’s cluttering the freezer. So dad got his cauliflower and steak ready and mom was to put the fries in the toaster oven. They have never used their big oven (don’t know how) and mom can press the “toast” button as many times as needed to bake things. Dad operates the stovetop and indoor grill.

So dad tells me he made the cauliflower with a sauce (this is to appease my mother) and it was great. I ask how mom liked it and he hands her the phone. Mom says it’s amazing what your dad can do in the frying pan! He made the cauliflower and the sauce in the frying pan. Her voice takes on an astonished lilt. Is she impressed or mildly incredulous?? Suddenly I hear dad in the background … I cooked the cauliflower in a pot! Quit telling stories. I’m in tears laughing. It’s a comedy sketch rivalling Carol Burnett.

Mom sheepishly tells me it was good no matter how he did it. Then dad takes back the phone. The problem he says is not the cauliflower or the sauce, it was the fries. That was moms only task and she forgot to bake (toast) them. So dad had to save the day and cook them in the frying pan. It’s definitely his weapon of choice.

So dinner was served: steak on the grill (5minutes on each side because the grill was preheated), cauliflower in the pot topped by sauce from the frying pan and a late entry of fries also in the frying pan. Bingo! A delicious and lovely meal.

Tomorrow they are eating out. Whew! That frying pan needs a break.

Just thinking about that conversation is making me laugh out loud. Good medicine.

Has it really been 50 years?? And the lunar landing?? Even though I was barely into school age for both of these iconic events they have been major milestones for my generation.

We have taken advantage of two local events celebrating these climacterics. The throwback to a simpler and gentler time was cathartic. A time before the gluttony of consumerism and leaning in. Clawing our way to the top. (Of what? ) Mandatory family time because there was only one car and one tv. Outdoor activities because there were no electronics. Well, except for the scratchy turntables for K-Tel records and transistor radios. Home cooked nutritious meals because dining in a restaurant was a rare treat.

But Rudy reminded me that the hippie movement was entirely anti war specifically Vietnam. And an overall escape from the trappings of “the man”. Leaving it to Beaver. And as the band cranked out The Who and The Doors with the photo slide show in the background showing visuals of the Woodstock concerts, one was a photo of kids selling acid hits for $1.00. So escaping reality and the mundanity of “real life” in 1969 may have been the start of the zombie apocalypse of today. Relatively speaking, just as technology and consumer goods have morphed into today’s craziness, so did the drugs to escape it all.

Getting naked and dancing around a farmers field versus safe injection sites.

We are currently watching a series on Netflix called “Succession”. It’s a glimpse into the lifestyle of the utterly rich. They are depicted as bizarre piggish bullies who will stop at nothing to protect their perch and their giant sized piece of the pie. We wonder how realistic it is. And shudder that it is.

Evolution is inevitable. Who’s pulling the strings? Canada votes on Monday. Who’s the lucky winner going to be. I wouldn’t call it lucky.

I’m going to sit back and watch it all unfold. Luckily I’m retired and have the time. Let the storm rage.

When your cup is half full could mean you’ve enjoyed the first half and are looking forward to enjoying the second. I feel that way about 50. You’re looking back on 50 years and looking forward to the rest.

Yesterday we had a 50th birthday adventure for my friend organized by her partner. He was clearly trying to make the very most of a surprise day. I think he pulled it off beautifully. There was definite surprise to see friends drive up to the meeting point. But it was the venue that was the most surprising. Esther the Wonderpig Sanctuary.

I follow Esther on social media because it’s a positive and uplifting story. Two gay guys (one in real estate and the other a magician) living in a small town accept a rejected micro pig into their home. It turns out it’s not a micro pig, but,rather a full grown 800 lb hog. Her name is Esther. As a piglet they became a family and Esther lived indoors with the family’s other domestic pets. But Esther was huge. Too huge for their house. By now they had a following as they shared the chronicles of Esther far and wide. The beauty (at least in this case) of the internet. They crowd funded the purchase of a country home and as more rejected creatures were dropped on their doorstep, a sanctuary was born.

People were enlightened and inspired. Volunteers came in droves to work, help, feed, garden and pay for the project. The whole concept gives people hope. And a renewed faith in the loving spirit of mankind in a brutal world of greed and corruption. It’s the cup half full. Optimism versus doubt and negativity. Esther could have easily been bacon.

The sanctuary has many facets all nicely laid out on a winding trail covered by wood chips. Having used wood chips on our farm years ago I can appreciate just that one tiny aspect. The sanctuary was overloaded with work as I could see. A gated bunny village completely encased in wire and netting for their safety from predators. A pig sty fit for any regal swine complete with huts, big and grazing areas including a shady forest for foraging. A goat and lamb area with a climbing tower and room to roam. A horse barn. A cow paddock. Peacocks and an assortment of other fowl. Including three feathered friends: Jesus, Jerry and Joseph.

All of the animals are named when they arrive. It’s their new “freedom” name. The volunteers buzz around us as we walk through the property. Some are picking up waste (animal and human) or feeding or mending. It’s a hive of activity. Volunteers come in groups also; team building for corporations doesn’t mean bowling anymore! You can shovel shit with your colleagues!

Aside from the sanctuary there’s a whole other piece to this place. A thriving enterprise about Esther. Children’s books. Best sellers I might add. A movie in the works. Hollywood I might add. Apparel for the worldwide Esther fans. The marketing genius is astounding.

We didn’t get to see Esther in the flesh. Apparently she’s temperamental and likes to chill inside with her sidekick Phil the dog. We did see Phil through the window. Their other buddy, Corno the turkey, was outside pecking around. If you follow Esther on social media you’ll see the three musketeers and their antics accompanied by witty subtitles supplied by Derek and Steven the owners.

As usual, what made the day that much more amazing was the weather. I don’t think we would have been as gobsmacked about the whole thing if we were covered in mud and wet. Also to spend a few hours in a completely unique setting with friends was fabulous. Our tour guide Rachel (a self proclaimed Esther groupie) was enthusiastic and passionate; she spoke honestly and thoughtfully. A definite nice break from election drivel!!

I walked away from the sanctuary event with the following thoughts:

– what a cool way to celebrate 50

– there really is truth to making lemonade from lemons (or in this case a silk purse out of the whole sow)

– charity works beautifully without government interference or financial infusion (if people can get behind a cause it will fly)

– I’m still going to eat bacon

Thank you for including me. It was great!

Fall brings many changes: colours, cooler days, bright night skies … and cold, harsh winds.

Today I was startled by a loud banging. It sounds like our roof coming off. A quick look outside and I see the waves battering ashore with a froth of fury. Don’t mess with Mother Nature! As I wander the upper floor I notice the banging is isolated to the rooftop over our bedroom. It’s scary and annoying.

The internet is down. Oh. Too bad. I can’t load the new word game Welder with my sister who’s obliterating me. It’s a strange game that I’m now determined to master. My former neighbour has sent a message pre-wifi disruption to tell me our outside furniture is on the loose. I can picture the seat cushions flying in the air like popcorn as the wind grabs and pulls.

The changing colder weather triggers a seasonal effect on our psyche. Shorter days. Colder temperatures. Less sunshine. More layers of clothing. Thermostat adjustments. And an instinctive urge to hibernate inside with comfort foods and cozy blankets. Even Otto is wary of the outdoors these days.

Thanksgiving weekend was sunny and warm. This new disruption arrived in a snap. It’s shocking. We are semi paralyzed knowing we have to prepare for the wintry months yet not letting go of the summer. We are not winter people anymore. Gone are the days when we enjoyed bundling up and braving the elements to do necessary chores outside. We are counting down our days to Florida sunshine and warmer climes.

The one thing I’m totally into is fall cuisine. Bountiful harvest means flavourful foods. Thanksgiving leftovers have been my focus and I’m trying out new dishes with some success. I made a pasta dish that my folks loved with a creamy tomato sauce and chunks of turkey. There was a few take home containers for them.

Now that dad is the official cook in their household he is always asking how to make things. His intrigue stops suddenly if I mention “oven”. They don’t use their oven since they don’t know how. But I’m suspicious that one attempt in the past yielded very disappointing results and now as a result the oven is an enemy. My dad fries everything. He can stir and watch and taste. I wonder why he was so curious about scrambled eggs. He later confessed that he only knows how to fry them sunny side up. He enjoyed the variety at our house. They have a very stringent routine which is a good thing for remembering to do everything. But the same routine wreaks havoc on their menu selections. Same old as my mom says. Her mantra now is: we eat only what your dad buys. He’s also the shopper. He buys what he likes. And sometimes what looks good.

Listening to the violence of the wind and surf I’m pondering my intimidating to do list for our winter escape. I think the banging noise might be adding a few unexpected items.

When the internet returns I’m going to check the weather forecast. Maybe summer isn’t quite done yet. For now I’ll stay under the covers and snuggle with my peeps.