February 13th, 2016
The race is not really on.! Guests are at a snail’s pace, I have to say, starting. The pace is not overwhelming. This is the time of year when you can speak to and have fun with them. In the list of preliminary was a mother and 9 year old daughter a weekend, or was it two, ago. They were originally to stay two nights, but were delayed by a storm that took us back to Canada in the winter. They inhabited the bed and breakfast only one night. Handing the youngster paper and magic markers left in its wake drawings suitable for posting on the fridge. The youngster LOVED Lucy. Since we were lacking ingredients for the standard operating procedures‘, and normal French toast we went with Aunt Jasmine alternatives. That is out of a box but with a secret ingredient, or two. Needless to say you have to reside here to get the recipe.
I then had a single gentleman guest from the dept of big and important. When he arrived, he too got on the floor, after taking his boots off, and petted Lucy, and again in the morning while Lucy did her imitation of being a rug. On we went, to find out about the lives and where in the world they live. ( in the woods up north of the province,) He had impressive locks, hair that could be considered dissident level. He was really great guest, a “converted” ex military that now mediates. Nothing linear about the conversation, at all, great fun. An engineer, and we know how linear they can be. OFF we went about politics, economics, the green party, his wife and children, lemon bread, pancakes and cats.
Also planned, and this came just in time, as there were guests, and guests, a tea party with two ladies, self invited. Thus it was incumbent on MOI to bake. AND there were a number of items in the fridge that had to be “used up.” In this instance, wide awake, and caffeinated, the lemons were cleaned of their skins and seed removed from the juice. (just remember the brittle banana breads) Baked two lemon loaves and a apple rhubarb cake to use up the rhubarb from last year before this years crop is up and growing.
My telephone bill . It virtually instigated a panicked heart attack. It emphatically and defiantly bounded $60 a month, a discount I finagled vanished. Phone calls imploring its return were fruitless. As I only two, and am trying desperately to stay out of the grocery stores, as bags of food are now $40 each without trying. Before boot camp, at the pharmacy went to get eggs. They too have ascended in value by .50 cents. Thus the bank accounts are settling down to the bottom, and the bed and breakfast is like Japan and Switzerland, into unenthusiastic equity. I don’t mind going back to daylight saving time. With inflation, the hour will be the only thing I’ve saved all year. Victor Borge & Moi