"Indefintiely"

"It's the strangest thing..."  Oh the mind, and it's crazy tricks and traumas.  The way it can change a life outlook of a sudden, make someone question things they used to love, and sap the joy away from beauty.  How it can leave outsiders looking in, without any answer or reason.  I wonder.  You have to hope that there is a way through for DM, and that it will be sooner rather than later.  Time to up the responsibility, and maybe see this lead to decisions that were always there in the background.  BK's prayers are with him, let us hope this and other positive thoughts are enough to see him to the other side of it.

Otherwise.  Life is quite good.  The Yep looking regal.  Salsa to be taken up.  Plans in Cape Breton and Toronto for upcoming long weekends made, with dreams of London and Scotland to ring in the new year underway, all with a traveling phantom.  As already plans of 2015 and beyond start to take shape.  Looking out at the "indefinite" future.  It looks grand.  Hope DM comes to see it in the same light.

Victory, at long last

And then, after so many letters and phone calls, and so much hastle and arguing and drafting and uncertainty.  Into the inbox arrives the decision.  The heart beats faster.  Page 62.  Incomprehension at first, comfort to see any amount at all, and then realization.  Elation.

"Deference must be made... I do not agree with a number of the underlying assumptions of... I am left in considerable doubt with respect to the merits of the position of... the equation simply opens up too many questions and hypothetical situations for me..."

Oh, the joy of bamboozling the other side.  A well earned win.  One of those ones that makes you proud all of a sudden again at the work done over the past years.  That it meant something.  So much better than if things were reversed. 

Friday.  Bear and Cartier making unique Halifax appearances in the next few days.  The amazingly surreal erection of the sign - Black Piano on Honeycomb, followed by the coolest of trips through the dungeons of George's.  "Why do people hate life so much?" asks CI, in response to our wondering once more why we own the harbour.  No answer to that, but time to head home and do another round of the 7 minutes in anticipation of a Beer Fest, just when the thought was to refrain from the very stuff. 

Though as the skies clear, are there other options to consider?  Perhaps.  Head home first to the new Weber and a few pages of a new story before venturing out into the night...  A weekend ahead that should inspire, with Thanksgiving plans made and some motivation for Salsa lessons and getting shape the order of the day.  C'mon.  Let's see what's next.

7 minutes

This morning, the first such workout in some time.  Embarrasing exhaustion and reflection in the mirror, but it is downhill from here.  You have, finally, made a start, and that is the biggest of hurdles. 

It has been a swell past two weekends, although further boat "trouble" with the accident at McNab's, but fortuitous chasing down of the culprit.  Zek proving as delightfully infuriating as old, but thoughts now in a completely different light after all this time.  As it should be, but good to have such memories, and the hike identifying a campsite to make some more that hopefully gets used soon.  Otherwise an opening weekend of water skiing and an elbow injury, followed by the long weekend sunsets and fun with both nephews at once.  Their first of many trips to Piney Point, surely.

I had planned to make this post just 7 minutes in keeping with the time of the workout, but already that has just about passed.  Showing, of course, the miniscule amount of effort required to get back into a proper regime and head once again in the opposite direction of letting yourself go.  It is about time.  Do keep it up.

There are now 5 months left in the year.  What it will hold I know not.  I am starting to have the recurring visions, the static restlessness that asks the same old questions - what are you doing and where should you be doing it?  I have not yet figured out the path forward, but in the past few days there has been both the hint of an mls idea, and the need to start casting your net wider for a new and cheaper abode.

It should be fun and possible to find a unique little rural spot to call your own.  Make it happen.

Fires and Pintles and Furlers and Rails and Elbows...

Such a summer of accidents.

Tedious Board meetings and trips to metal works and long-winded conversations going over the same ground.  "Crucial to get to... Blah, blah, blah."

I feel terrible, health and motivation-wise.  And no holidays to come for awhile.  "The wheels will keep churning."  Let it unfold as well as it can.