Mr. Jared Laginski, supervisory agent for our feudal lord Inverness Homes, was hot off the mark this blustery mid-week morning. He arrived here before 8:30 am and directly addressed the outstanding mechanical and structural pickles affecting our recently built residential unit. I belief he had already been to a hardware store to collect a new fire monitor in anticipation of having to replace the existing unit which appeared to have been the source of last evening’s freakish alarm.
Likely we’re more vivacious about crowning our trifling domestic duties (now that we’re back on home turf) than warranted. It was after all only last Thursday, less than a week ago, that we landed upon our personal territory from the radically ridden United States of America. Yet we have been overcome by what is a moral imperative and an admitted passion for reconciliation. The zestfulness is fed by the incremental energy arising from the consummation of each step along the way. As a matter of record the proceedings have been marked by distinct accomplishments relating in particular to our shift from our former habitat at Jamieson Mills across the river to new digs at Riverfront Estates. Some of the strokes have been less than triumphant but each has progressively advanced our synthesis with the Canadian environment, even to the point today for example of reconnoitring at the Smiths Falls hospital on Cornelia Street West with a scandalously young anaesthetist Dr. Thomas Gutcher regarding my upcoming left knee surgery on May 24th with Dr. Mark Roberts.
Sitting at my desk, looking upriver towards the Village of Appleton, I cannot but marvel at the imagery! We have endured heavy rainfall for the past two days, grey skies and what would normally be perceived overall as a mournful atmosphere. Yet thanks to the proximity of the Mississippi River my perception of the day is placated.
Last evening my 88-year old mother (born 1926 deceased 2018) telephoned me to ask that I review with her on the morrow a collection of historical papers which my late father had left behind, documents, letters and photographs going back to 1929. She hesitatingly admitted that the papers were making her sad. I naturally understood that it was part of my mother’s process of adjustment to my father’s death that she should eventually distance herself from the past in many ways, including the disposal of this material.
It has been some time since I have felt quite as chuffed about our current circumstances as I now do! It is a blustery rainy day in the Town of Mississippi Mills in the Country of Lanark and Province of Ontario but we are insensible of the weather – except to rejoice that we now have a screen door installed on the balcony door through which the otherwise unpleasing north wind may howl thankfully (it’s a summertime thing). The singular chap who by design works every day of the week for six months of the year (before retiring to the South Pacific for the winter) attended upon us as promised to assess the request for a screen door installation. We hadn’t anticipated that he would complete the installation today.
Though my sister Linda and her husband Marion have very kindly and generously kept in touch with us regularly during our winter sojourn on Key Largo for the past six months, it was nonetheless an especial pleasure to reunite with them in the flesh this afternoon at their lovely home on Downing Street in Ottawa. The time flew by! At times there appeared to be a competition to interject the burgeoning intelligence each of us wished to impart to the other. In the end however we abandoned further discourse in order to set up the antique wooden dining table and matching chairs they offered us for our new small apartment. The additions complete the outstanding obstacle to fulfilling our amateur interior decorating schemes.
Yesterday around 3:00 pm, after having motored for four full days from Key Largo northward, we crossed the US/Canada border. Within minutes we were languidly cruising along the Ivy Lea Parkway adjacent the north side of the St. Lawrence River. We breathed a collective sigh. It felt good to be on home territory.
Having sailed through and surpassed the Shenandoah Valley today, on the last leg of our journey from Key Largo, we’re soon approaching Upstate New York, about 4 hours from home. As close as we are to familiar territory we have nonetheless chosen to remain at an outer boundary, primarily to avoid a long and tiresome haul to the finish line. We have now the privilege and pleasure to anticipate a short jaunt tomorrow through what has traditionally been tranquil and bucolic countryside.
It seems appropriate upon the heels of the firing of Republican conservative and paranoid madman Poor Little Tucker that we should have settled this evening in the thick of Confederacy amid the beauty of the Blue Ridge Mountains in the Shenandoah Valley. Highlighting our ephemeral stay here was the fortuitous discovery of a nearby gas station where we filled the tank of our car (in anticipation of another long drive tomorrow to Binghamton, New York) and then arranged a purgative car wash. Upon arrival moments later at the hotel we went for a relaxing swim, followed by an invigorating shower in preparation for our tapas and crudités at the rooftop bar.
Well! Who didn’t have a guffaw this afternoon upon the news that poor little Tucker has at last something legitimately to make him look like he’d just been kicked in the side of the head with a jackboot!