Forgive me readers, for I have sinned.



She-bang. What a different a day makes.

On Monday, my Cave exploded with 2 sons (Warren returning home and Cary arriving for visit) + 1 girlfriend (Myra + additional bonus, 1 Waterloo friend, Susan, who happened to have a conference in Halifax this week.

Woo hoo! After a rotter week that included icky weather, a lonely and hugless Mother’s Day (with all three sons in Ontario), and of course, the reality of a cave without our beloved Bella, a little change from the ordinary was exactly what I needed to haul me out of me out of my funk.

Course, there is that energy thing, isn’t there? You know. For every action there is an equal and opposite reaction. So, while I run around this week in happy-land with my temporarily expanded Ontario contingent, my ability to concentrate and write has slipped into a state of suspended animation, along with sensible eating and any tasks outside of the brewery.

Long story short, it was ice cream for dinner on Tuesday. Fudge for lunch on Wednesday.

Food making? Not even toast.

Four mornings in a row, I declared coffee with cream a complete breakfast, while last night, I trekked to not one, or two but three different downtown establishments for wine.

Thursday post? What Thursday post?

Yah. It’s pretty much impossible to get off the fun wagon to do any cooking, let alone writing, while the Ontarians are visiting.


Last night, when I got home, I did make a feeble attempt to channel random thoughts together and scrabble together a post. Then I fell asleep.

And this morning, before the sun was up, I tried again. But there was a lot of cool YouTube stuff to check out first.

At 8am, when I knew I had to get up to be at work, I knew this week was a bust for anything but an unedited, by the seat of my pants post.

Guilty, I thought of my readers, and then I texted my biggest blog fan of all, son Graham for a heads up. He reads my post religiously, every Thursday at lunch. I needed to let him know not only would the post be late, it would be sketchy.

Mama: FYI… my post won’t be too grand today. Too busy having fun and wish you were here!

Graham: Oh that’s totally fine! I’d rather you have fun!!!

No worries on the “f” word this week, Graham.

And please do forgive me readers, for I have sinned.


It’s partly Susan’s fault…

My friend Susan arrived in Halifax on Monday. She is here for a conference, and though she isn’t staying in the Cave, she may as well be. Her hotel is a short, convenient stumble walk down Cogswell Street.

Before I explain why she is trouble, I must mention that this Susan is not to be mistaken for Halifax-Susan, who lives around the corner from me. That said, the two Susans are connected because Waterloo-Susan is fully responsible for my Halifax-Susan friendship.

Some explaining…

Remember when I moved to this city, knowing NO ONE but my 23 year-old son and his 23-year old girlfriend? And how a month after my move, out of sheer desperation and utter loneliness, I launched Project Friend, which involved a string of friend-dates with virtual strangers in the hopes of making some girly-friends?

At the beginning, coercing random strangers to agree to coffee with me felt a bit odd, but I got used to it. And anyway, I increased my skills on as how to start and sustain conversation with strangers, even as they backed away.

Luckily, not to far into this phase and before someone put a restraining order on me, Project Friend took off into the stratosphere following my friend-date with Deb. That connection happened to be a direct outcome of my friendship with Waterloo-Susan as the two were long-time colleagues. To help me get started on finding friends, Susan introduced me to Deb via email.

Once Halifax, I harassed harangued nagged emailed Deb, until eventually, she gave in we connected over wine. We hit it off and then some.

As it turned out, Deb was a good friend to another Susan. And on that fateful September day, over glasses of red wine and while getting to know each other, Deb mentioned I might get along well with her Halifax Susan and promised to connect us. She did.

Fast forward to now. Halifax-Susan is now my round-the-corner Halifax BFF, and with her came an entire posse of other women, who seemed to have welcomed me into their fold and don’t find me (too) weird.

This week, my Waterloo and Halifax Susans, along with Deb, collided on Monday afternoon over fish and chips, at Wilman’s, over at the Hydrostone.

So maybe Susan isn’t trouble. She’s just a very special friend. We’ve known each other for more than thirty but less than forty years.

With our friendship comes a long history and incredible comfort zone. She can hang out at the Cave with cheese and wine to yak about things I can’t mention in this post because Graham is reading this (you know what I’m talkin’ about, Susan) or she can drag me along with her anywhere because she knows I am more presentable and articulate than I appear at first glance. Wherever we go, we move between giggles and tales without a hitch, interspersed with hugs at the sheer joy of being together here this week.

How can I not spend every second possible with her while she is here?


That other trouble-maker Cary…

Okay, so my oldest son is here for a visit. Normally, I have no restraint when my sons who do not live with me are around.

I fall into an uncontrollable fugue, whereby I attempt to bribe and coerce their affections by purchasing anything their hand touches when in stores or grabbing the bill when in restaurants.

And then when we are home at the Cave, I feel compelled to cook whatever they want and do clean up and dishes, willingly and happily solo while they lounge on the couch.

Their command is my wish.

Hmph… It is a bit of a tussle with this visit. Two things now foil my devious ways.

The first is my sons. Pretty much, all three of them won’t let me do the money thing often anymore. Apparently, they are adults, and as such, they insist they can pay for themselves.

When I try anyway, they tell me slowly and firmly, “Ma. You don’t have a pension. Save it for yourself.”

So much for financial bribery. That leaves cooking, which as mentioned, I’ve done none of either.

Enter foil number two: Myra.

Myra is Cary’s new girlfriend, and she (rightfully so) insists my son do the switcheroo, and think of his mama before his own needs.

Sheesh. I like girlfriends.

The only thing that remains is giving my son my car while he is here and closing my eyes to the explosion of clothes throughout the Cave.

I’ll have to be happy with that.


Okay. I gotta go!!!! I gotta get to work at Propeller, and then wait for the first text from Susan, so we can figure out how to squeeze in some girly time today.

After that, I gotta go home and hang out on my couch with Cary and Myra until they go off on their date night.

While they are gone, I will tidy up the kitchen, so it is all nicey-nice when they get back. I am also gonna sneak out to the grocery store for a pork roast to make Pulled Pork (Cary’s favourite) for dinner tomorrow night. Myra won’t be here to stop me!

Tonight, I am gonna hit the hay early. I need to get up early to go running with Susan cuz she leaves tomorrow. And I want to be fully rested because Cary and Myra leave on Saturday, and rumour tells me a big night is ahead tomorrow. I’m not saying I am invited to go along, but I am not saying I am not invited either.

Okay. Gotta go! Back to proper blog next week, when it is just Warren and me again.




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