TMB Training

Quite the weekend, as you may recall.  Halifax to Parrsboro Co-op to the Gulch to Big (Bad) Bald to the metropolis of Eatonville and then the endless slog through the forest to beat the tide up the beach.  A beautiful few days, if exhausting and knee-busting.  But, most important, proof that the upcoming tour of the massif can be done in good order and cheer, and motivation to sort out the itinerary over the past hours since the return.  A lot of mountain refugios and some quality hotel time in the towns that call for it.  All that is left is to get the supplies together.  June approaches, at long last. 

And it is going to be extraordinary, I have absolutely no doubt.

Billie Gee...

...hears a who.  Is that enough of a clue, years hence, to remember the emotions being felt now, waiting a further 11 minutes for an email and decision that mark the end of a long saga?  The fog of the morning has lifted to reveal blue skies and ocean.  The heart is pounding a bit faster in anticipation over events that are decided yet still unknown, events you have sought to influence (and have strong views regarding) but ultimately cannot control.

The reading of it is all.  The bell has struck 5PM NL time.  Here we go.


UPDATE: Not my lover after all.  Oh well.  Lesson learned.  But which one?  Would have preferred to have honoured the mentor with a more comprehensive victory in his absence, but this is not an outlandish result, and hopefully one that merits acknowledgement of a job not too badly done in the context.  Certainly it was fun while it lasted.  Maybe there will be more to come?  On balance I see it as another step toward the door.  Not through, but toward...  In keeping with all the other wide variety of thoughts in the days and weeks just past, of course.

Some bright morning, and all that.  Indeed indeed.

Positivity and Cursing

So reads the first in the summary of the attitude of the now late KB, forever associated with that smiling head-tilt and cryptic comments on the nature of freedom over a pint or two.  Fare thee well, man.  29 rotations of service.  Alack.  A shame, how short yet long life can be.

Fog on the harbour, appropriately so.  Office politics and other discussions over afternoon pints.  Heart and mind not really in it.  Will be nice to engage in more as the summertime arrives with its force, as it must.  But before, a mere 2 weeks and 2 days until the next flight.  And only a few items to cross off before our long-planned deluge of French wine and football begins.  Trust in that. 

And remember.

What's Next?

Post 500.  Mark it with what?  Memories of a lost phone, a stolen bag, threats to involve the police, a Bangladeshi cabbie who seems to have been burned by your varied states of intoxication before, and has come up empty in the late night search.  The knocking on random Prince Street doors, perhaps where you left the bag lying about?  It is an excellent sort of mystery.  Darkness is spreading.  At least it was a good way to distract from the frustration of the lost phone into the drink.

A nice May long weekend though, with no car and some rainy weather.  Wifi in the lobby, Episodes, time-travel movie downloads, Yann, and even a re-reading of Kvothe.  The comfort of the condo and its windows and the light and the new headboard and the dreams of France and the birthday plans.  Thoughts of impending arbitration decisions, tall ship escapes, and expensive municipal electricity rates.  Fog horns and a donair and some more late night readings.  As you watch the lobby and your neighbours enter and exit with their pets.  The sound of the dripping water piece behind...

Anyway, finally found a downloadable version of Chronocrimes.  Let's see how that one plays out over some Revana deliciousness.  It is a relaxing life, a restful and protected one, as you wait ou tsome days in advance of the oversees memories to come.  Where will you be, and what will you have accumulated in the mind, in 500 posts more?

The Calls are coming from inside the House

I started typing in "the calls..." to google and the title above was the first to appear.  Fitting, in that this has been a bit of the thought process.  The sense of various voices leading you down an irreversible path.  That might help explain why the simple picking up of the phone actually made me a bit nervous today.  Maybe it is the realization that the proverbial shit could be about to get very real.

Both calls were helpful.  Patricia first, with the intelligence from 880 that the price is likely going up into the 230 range.  Good luck with that folks.  Too much lawn maintenance, too far a walk in the winter, and too removed from the view and boating and opportunities down the road.  829 has the right of way issue, emphasized by their own agent.  It would get annoying, and the soggy yard does have me concerned long term.  The deck is way too small, plus I doubt the movement on price given what they paid a few years ago.  I am sorry, Mistress Chestnut, but the new apple of my eye has a sturdy tree with decorations of her own that is not in danger of falling down.

Then Francine.  You will have her for two hours, so make the most of that time to ask the questions about island life and study the house/property.  June 1 should not be a problem there, since they have already moved up the hill.  You need a deal that satisfies your potential new neighbours on the homestead.  Maybe a lower offer with the promise of work could seal the deal?  Or should we get the cousin-in-law to wade in?

I think the way to play it this week is as follows - assuming there are no deal-breakers, you need to meet back there at some point next week.  Find an inspector (or TKR) to join and that's when the formal offer could be made.  But hint on the 13th at how it could happen and gauge the price ranges they are looking at and how they jive with the budget for the 20%.

UPDATE: Of course, all that is off.  The 100 year old house is 100 years old, far from saleable condition and no attempt to shift it for a big reduction.  Keep an eye on it and see how low it goes.  If I could buy just that deck for $10,000 it would already be sold, of course.  Better the quick chat with Ed and his "for sale by owner" efforts.  $232 it is, but you get a sense that he would like to walk away.  Something to think about on the return from France...

Pending

A bolt from the deep blue - after 1700 days, 803 is now listed as pending on Viewpoint.  All the happier to have made the trek out in April, to see it anew in its setting among the dilapidated building. 

Some Rioja wine last night got me to thinking about the possibility of renos and painting while in Paris, but on more sober reflection (i.e. the time to make the first phone call), cooler thoughts keep prevailing.  It is a task for the summer.  The next 30 days need to be focused on James Taylor, 601, the boat, and some yoga.  Time to get serious and get ready for the TMB ahead, amongst other splendid things.

Nostalgia on the email front as well just now, recalling some of the exploits and visions and dreams of the law days gone.  How to recapture that magic and sense of the unlimited.  All the while the same traits of late night phone calls and whimsical world play so prominent in your repetoire.

Even as I keep up the search, the combination of the isolated island location and value for price offered out on the ferry continues to stack up favourably against the alternatives.  I assume it will remain so on the return, but maybe France is the last chance for it to go sideways.  Having returned to the world of investing now that the gold and silver plays have buoyed the mood so quickly, the saving of the downpayment needs a month or two of accrual to pounce.  Just before the August long if possible, or after.  No matter.  Two more months for the final candidate options to settle, and then to make the choice.  

What use am I to make of this document?

The end is in the beginning.  A solid performance.  A worthy finish to the file.  Some superb duck nachos and Chablis in the usual, rowdy, back corner table.  Hiccups and their remedy.  Random wanderings.  Lottie's, Guinness, and then a rest and a hungover hike.  All the while wondering what things might have been like, and safe in the comfort of knowing that they turned out as we knew they must.  Now for the panel to confirm, in (hopefully non-appealable) words of their own choosing.  Thanks for the experience and the memories.

Where the tales go from here, who can say?  But the year has begun with a bang that has served to set the stage well for an escape to la France in June.  Sailing to come in advance, as well as yoga and the cleaning of body and apartment first.  First up, in my mind I'm going to Carolina, and a family weekend with the young and restless.  And some file work to be sorted before the exodus.  That all looking very much in order.

Some time, then, on the road, to reconsider the path.  RR continuing to inspire in the background, and the undercurrent of the journal and the Tancook dreams a subtle and constant reminder of the possibility of life beyond these walls.  The way you might make that happen.  What it might look like.  How Antarctica and the rest of the south might be won.  The proper timing of that and other blessed things.

The taxes have been filed and received, and the unexpected WIP boom has set things up for future RRSP years.  Which will suffice for 65, but the key will be to consider how to extract more from less in the interim.  Hence enjoyment at the rapid rise of some gold and silver plays.  Hence the doubling down today on old mines and new solar.  No doubt that will lead to some heartache and confusion and recriminations at yourself for being foolish down the road.  As you laugh over it with the guy who put TA into your mind.  Dream a little, I suppose.  What is there to lose but cash and opportunity?

Off now to find another Rioja 2009 vintage for the collection and watch the last of the Good Wife.  Make a little progress on the apartment as well, McMahon.  Slowly slowly.  The clock is ticking on the end of year 37 now.