“No Other Participants”

M’s first flight is away.  The apartment as bachelor-esq as ever.  Decided to wait it out, time to relax and let time and events run their course.  You may end up in TO yet, although I doubt it, and only in the case of catastrophe.  

The latest stress, improbably, having to do with the registry, and the non-response to emails leading to the latest Skype strangeness.  What to make of it?  Who knows, stressful pandemic times all around, but it remains an odd one.  Will need to place a call this afternoon, if only to clarify the air.  What outcome is just ignoring things expected to lead to, and shall you suffer some fallout on account of it?  Honestly.

UPDATE: Concerns unfounded.  Updated deed received.  ET making up time in the air.  Friday night cleaning to come once this IR call finishes up.  As one of the NFL draft guys said last night, "Let's get it."

Strawberry Suppers

The ride out to Mush-a-Mush and learning of the ways of the cottage, even as the quarantine plans there have now fallen by the wayside.  The eve between the churches at Fisherman's Daughter, amidst a Jays win and the Walrus article on immigration.  

Then quite the Saturday all told, imagining a wholly other life.  Eli's (RIP, sadly) coffee and meeting with the twirling mustache.  The drive to Keji and the Groocock tour.  Dreams of fireside readings, Valley of the Kings and Moose-themed rooms, Stargates, and the distance to Alf's Melmac.  Wonderful to have had the opportunity to make the decision for yourself, but based on the need to keep firing wood into the furnace twice a day, Project Something seems just that bit too remote at the moment.  Perhaps the closing will not proceed on Friday and the chance opens again?  Or you can drive past some year hence and wonder what if... 

For now, though, Operation Permanent Move (14) takes precedence.  Bas on the POD just noted that we will "get through this phase and onto the better times."  DM says, "We are still allowed to go outside."  Allowed is the word.  Recalls the maxim that 'Whatever is not Prohibited is Permitted' and so follow that through to its logical conclusion to achieve the necessary ends.  Collection of gifts back from the cottage.  Cleaning.  Groceries.  Lightbulbs.  Buddy pass to TO on a Friday.  Early morning greeting, quarantine hotel, and then the Nova Scotia gauntlet after (hopefully) yet another negative test.  

Having been through the Signature Health full analysis and cardiogram (Cholesterol too high, Vitamin D too low, but 98th percentile on the 7 minute exercises, who knew?) and just now the neck popping by Dr. Wiggins before another round of the seemingly interminable yet complexly lucrative B U T U file.  Some things change, some don't.

What a difference a week can make.  Will you be in the air again inside of 48 hours?  Odds on.  All to close the 11,343 km gap.  An momentous update to follow next.  You see as straight as anyone I know, texts Todd A.  See it through, (once again) roll that hard six and, as Berwick's man just said, "go scotch that snake."

Direction of Travel

As inevitable as the European Super League announcement comes the April funk and its waiting game.  But the Visa has been approved, the Romelio SA certificate acquired, and the medical request at last received, today.  All timing on song as you await the wife’s arrival and the start of summer.  Who would have thought it thus?

Have spent a lazy weekend into Monday pondering plans.  The Bed and Breakfast idea of old cannot be shaken, and with it an impatience toward action.  The direction of travel flowing but one way.  Forward not back, said the Netflix imposters, and so it goes.  There was the idea of Mahone Bay between the churches, but the price tag extreme and simply not enough room.  Better the fresher air and darker skies, the sign post to Worms in Germany, and the namesake of Uncle Walt to inspire.  

Will they be open, post-quarantine?  Worth a drive by in advance to walk the grounds and run out the Kona.  For the truth comes that you can hold on to the Dartmouth condo and also keep the country homestead at that price, instead of the pricier alternatives.  This would have options and lower stakes, with little rush and large opportunities.  For gardens and telescopes and retreats and the kitchen and Queens hospitality, all at the doorstep of Keji.  A potential institution of itself.  Not Brier island, but at least toward it. 

Doers and Dreamers.  Here lies another.  Line it up.  I sense another birthday offer a’coming?  There was a feeling of sadness when it seemed pending earlier, only to re-appear.  Let’s hope it lasts another month.  Take it away if it is not the right path, but I see it as the one to offer milady as the place to make in her imagine.

Let’s see.  Walk free and own no superior, after all.  Aye me.

Posture and the Human Spirit

The day of the Kona, remember it thus.  The BUTU evidence call, however Gurnham’s last decision unfolds.  The surf and turf (reed/beef) spectacular, best meal, as always.  Diablo/lobster combo, into Rum.  North Sydney booking. The Kristofferson/Mungs. A triumph.

I love it.

New car needed to welcome my gorgeous wife to the homeland.  Check.  Slowly slowly.  And yet.  Magically.  Keep the vertigo and health scares to a minimum.  Rockabye Sweet baby ... AA?  Hehe, I’m already there.  Funny Kieran was.  Someday perhaps we’ll chat.  Ha.  Hundred years of....  I remember, and I remember thinking....

Dysfunction of the Labyrinth

What a difference a few days makes, the severity of the vertigo attack passing with each moment, slip sliding away, fading into the memory.  Do not forget the panic, the spinning, the cold sweats, the lying on this couch of old for the vitals, the paramedics, the fear, the relief.  The sensation of motion where there is none.  I wonder if/when again, still, but no matter.  The infection, or pinched nerve, or whatever is was, must be healing itself.  The labyrinth of the vestibular leading who knows where.  Treat it as the wake-up call instead.  The physical lined up to be taken, the preparations for Mirriam’s arrival.  The expensive once-in-a-lifetime framing.  The AfriKona with its ridiculous undercoating and paint protection ready to serve as the shuttle to the cottage.  

What a difference a year makes, cycling through pictures of one year ago, before Zanzibar and Lusaka Civic Centre and Sandy’s and Royal and PR and Misty and the TRV.  A majestic year of accomplishments that could not have been achieved absent the unique and overwhelming circumstances.  We now look to what is next.  Summer.  Alobar?  Wonderland?

I wonder...