A Night in Town


I called it “some kind of puke colour,” but am told it’s Dusty Rose. My apologies to all you Dusty Rose lovers.

News of a gunfight and people killed in Cancun sends my heart plowing into my stomach like a rock, imagining the possibility that horrors could befall my Emil. News stories don’t indicate any tourists affected, but now I begin to be anxious for him to get home on Saturday.

Scott is in town putting the second coat of paint on the walls of Emil’s room. I am home thinking about what to do with myself. Dishes, of course; that goes without saying. A walk with SadieSue and Ducky. And — scratching my head — what can I come up with for supper? We ate most of the leftovers yesterday so today I must “create.” Ha.

“Supper ideas?”
I brought in finger ribs, he said.
“They need cooking differently than last time. Weren’t they the ones?”
Yeah. I’d just season and bake them in a roaster at low heat for the afternoon.

Good ’nuff.
I looked up the cooking of ribs in my Joy of Cooking, just to see what explanations and tips might be found, but Scott is happy with the plainest, easiest way. No complaints from me. I won’t be eating the meat anyway, and His Ravenousness will be satisfied simply to have food.

What a gorgeous day it is! Scott was home at lunchtime and before leaving he was doing something in the Quonset. Looking out the kitchen window, I saw Sadie trotting across the yard with something in her mouth. Something she probably shouldn’t have, I figured. Something from the Quonset. She lay down to nibble on her prize and I stepped out wearing only jeans and a sweater to make sure it wasn’t a stolen item. Sure enough though, it was: one of the running shoes Scott wears while drywalling. He’ll have to keep a closer eye on Miss Priss in future. She is definitely still a pup, dragging things up to the house and chewing where she shouldn’t.

Off through the night to watch the Doctor Who christmas special in town with Everett. And eat bonbons.

PS man that rib meat was tasty! I ate a morsel half the size of my little finger. Fab.

Up Early



“Get me up so I can have coffee with you before you go.”

He was being picked up by his sister at 7:30 and they were off to Saskatoon to get their mother, who is being released from hospital today after her second knee-replacement surgery. The trip to the city will give them two hours alone together, something that rarely happens.

It’s still pitch black outside my windows after seeing him to the door. I always kiss him goodbye, though sometimes I have to trip him in order to slow him down long enough.

Things I say, usually giving him a squeeze, whether he’s going away for a few days or only a few hours:

“Come home safely”


“I miss you already”


“Don’t go falling in love with any other girls.”

This last one I say with a perfectly straight face, as if I might be worried. I’m not, but anything is possible and this reminds us both. Our lives can change in the most unexpected ways at any time.

To the Dump Dump Dump


Scurrying to and fro between the piles at the landfill site were half-a-dozen cats.

“Poor things. I feel sorry for them.”

“Why?” said Scott. “They’ve got a house and the attendant feeds them.”

On top of that, think of all the fresh meat the good hunters must get. It’d be a rodent smorgasbord, wouldn’t it?


Cat house with some extra straw-bale insulation

I didn’t even get out of the truck to help Scott unload it. I had on my work clothes but forgot to wear a work jacket, and couldn’t risk my good parka. How to wangle out of dump duties without even trying.

We spent three hours on Saturday removing a border of vinyl wallpaper from beneath the ceiling of Emil’s room. (People who wallpaper were roundly cursed.) Yesterday I washed the walls while Scott patched holes, then painted the textured ceiling. (People who paint improperly were roundly cursed.) Today I’d guess we’ll get the walls primed, if not painted.

But first, Scott has been up doing some paperwork, taking care of some business via phone, and eating cold leftover Spanish Beans (recipe) for breakfast. He’s just left to “do chores.” Something about putting out bales? Or it could have been:

“Check the water bowls”


“Feed up.”

And the most frequent, the daily eyeballing just to see what’s what, so that intervention (if required) is early.

The cattle will be glad of this melty break from the cold snap.


Speaking of breaks from the cold, this just in from Cancun:


Emil got to meet the pilot and go into the cockpit. Photo by Tracy, his aide.

Before he left, he was remembering a similar scenario when he got a plane ride from Edmonton to Calgary for his sixth birthday. It was one of the many thrills of his life so far. There have been quite a few. People are ridiculously good to Emil.