Today is June 30th.  We have already exhausted three of our seven months in Canada this year.  It has been an action-packed ride since our return from Hilton Head Island. Our time has been devoted almost exclusively to matters of business affairs in particular to those of my elderly mother.  As I have openly expressed, I am content to have done so.  In fact I am the first to acknowledge that submerging myself in the responsibilities harkens back to the latter and more agreeable days of my law practice when I could by force of my lengthy experience effortlessly direct traffic with assurance. Admittedly the commitment isn’t entirely altruistic; my anticipatory inheritance is not without import. But largely my satisfaction is as pure as the accomplishment of a game well-played. I have synthesized my cultivated and innate talents which naturally sustain my enthusiasm.  All the cards have yet to be played but the enterprise currently has the hallmark of inter vivos estate planning. My impatient obsession with the future is conveniently assuaged by the performance of these pragmatic undertakings.

To be brutally frank there is an incontrovertible complacency in having expiated my winter lassitude by directing my mind to these needs.  Were circumstances to have been otherwise I am not certain that I would harbour such smugness and conceit as I now do.  Indeed esteemed family friends have been kind to honour me with praise for what has been done.

I further flatter myself that I have eagerly addressed what for some people are the disturbing realities of getting old.  Never have I dodged the candour of the situation by camouflaging it with innuendo or other excuses for what demands immediate attention.  My fervour for forethought may have partially accelerated my agenda but on balance I feel the duties were addressed with opportune timing. We’ve the balance of the summer and the autumn to wind things up for my mother to accomplish the overall translation of her immovable estate to liquid assets and to effect a partial distribution of certain of her surplus possessions, things which were sinking into neglect in any event.  I wager that at almost 90 years of age my mother must derive some fulfillment in overseeing this transition.

Coincidentally we marked the mid-year point by dining at our tiny apartment with our erstwhile traveling companions. The meal was a repeat of my standard fare but the robust conversation uplifted the tedium of the gastronomy.  A hint was dropped by the country gentleman that a new pet may be on the horizon.  Seemingly he is missing the occasion to go for regular walks on the rural road and I suspect the improving companionship of a dog is in his blood.  We have only entertained these two in our apartment since we moved here about a year ago.  Frankly if I never career another dinner for the remainder of my life I shall be content.  When not drinking booze the accommodation of guests is strictly a duty.  And it is a mistake to suggest that dining in trumps the expense of dining out.  By the time one tallies the cost of extraordinary local ingredients, fine wines and liquors the margin is considerably reduced.  Not to mention the wide sphere of travel involved in collecting the stuff; and of course the cleaning up afterwards.

This is the closest I’ve been to concluding the outstanding family administration matters which could and should have been addressed for some time.  My mother resisted as long as possible ridding herself of her house. Imperceptibly I have accomplished the transfer of her portfolio to a professional advisor.  To punctuate the necessity of planning for unforeseen circumstances we have endured two deaths (family member and a friend) within as many days.  We’ll see what the next quarter brings!