August 02, 2017
We are sliding into a long weekend, in most provinces in this fair land. Being an exception to any rule, Newfoundland has a holiday that is weather dependent. In this Presbyterian province, we here assured that fun and frivolity will be pursued regardless of the weather. Full to the brim starting on the Friday straight thru the to holiday Monday. Bums in the bed stats are wishy washy until then, as we wander thru yet another month in the year. Just plodding along at a rapid rate.
The weather is fiery, overheated, seasonable, truth be told, and no relief onsite.
Grateful the house is stone. The 120 year old house stays cool the old fashioned way. One of the seasonal chores I have not rambled on about it closing the blinds to the heat. It was pitch black upon my return as I had forgotten to reopen them last night. Another seasonal chore is emptying the dehumidifier, just before serving breakfast. This is before the daily chore of filling up the dogs bowl with kibble and vitamins, amino acids down her throat. The former, lending and leading itself to another task of watering the hanging plants, again seasonal.
Guests from Montreal via Bulgaria, engineers both along with, a young couple from Ontario, she studying to be a vet teck, he a too recently minted engineer.
Thru out the day, the reservation book was devoid of ink. I might just be guest less. Ha. Dinner was pleasurable thing, a healthy meal, that would have been approved by wellness Canada. On my patio, cushions in place even, enjoying the last of the days heat and light.
OFF I went to watch a war movie in air conditioned comfort. I stuffed my fingers in my ears, plugged for the duration. Looking at, loud it was, to have been transported back to the beachhead of June 04, 1940 fending off the Nazis. The Allies would be back on the beaches five years later to regain what was lost.
As I am keeping myself hydrated, complete with and throwing in lemons.. I am, as you all know, an optimist making lemonade. I am, or used to be, as you all know. Emails are compulsively checked and this was no exception, one last time. There was the reason I do, a last minute booking, guests from Germany, he spoke no English and she a teacher from Halifax, teaching at an international school. They met, selling jewelry at a market. I screech an email of the secret code, and when I will return.
When I returned, I followed the another couple into my driveway. They spur of the moment, in their little red sports car, stayed in the big little city. I often insist that this is a house of magic and coincidence and presto, the days happenstance appeared. His mother, had the same name as the women who turned this stone edifice into a bed and breakfast, and recently died. He was the same name as her son. They were not related either. Small world. But both, Alice B’s died a couple of weeks ago.
Thus we were up and baking before the heat of the day, two banana breads and apple sauce, french toast and all made with a hand held blender. It freshly and recently replaced, the old solely blessed and recycled. It had to go as the stem was flying off while making french toast batter in all direction. Apparently the new has two, not one, speed. I do too, stop and go like heck.
To expect the unexpected shows a thoroughly modern intellect. Oscar Wilde, moi and Miss LP