good morning dear readers except for you Aussies where I think it is tomorrow but that doesn't bear thinking about really. My ranting is done. I awoke (so much nicer than simply waking isn't it?) and arose from my abed in the arecroom (sleep refuge for the snore belaguered) and dressed and watered my garden fully ensuring the rain which is now hovering o'er us in nova scotia. I picked weeds and talked to the hens and told John that this is a day he'd best enjoy. And now I'm about to begin work on the book. I've separated it into the two points of view chapters - one is my detective and the other a young woman who is at the heart of the mystery. This means I can follow one narative path all the way through. And maybe get to untangling if that is indeed even the problem.
My week unfolds before me. I will see a few clients tomorrow then I have a workshop to deliver with a group from Canada World Youth on Tuesday. My love and I will hit the road on Tuesday night - we're going to Merigomish to visit our Linder. We'll stay the night and then the next day he will go off to Canso to look at a house some guy in the states wants him to fix. He'll come back to Merigomish and do some parging (don't you love that word?) on Linder and David's house. They recently jacked it up and put a basement in and need a little help. I'm going to weed in the best garden in the world and yack and perhaps drink g&t's. Then we'll drive on home - our little mini-vac done. Wednesday work, Thursday work, Friday work, Saturday garden and putter and next Sunday we're going to witness friends tying the knot (I'm trying to untie knots while others go about thinking they should tie them up). This is a backyard very tiny marriage ceremony - just perfect I think. I'm going over to Smitten Kitchen to find a very excellent dessert idea.
so that's my week. please tell me your mid-summer weeks. So interesting I think - finding out what folks get up to.
ps - oh about those ski jumpers. I was reminded that perhaps they hadn't been so sad but that the stooopid g&m types had reported that. whichever, it was the ineffectual sadness racket that triggered my anger. And perhaps something chemical - yes, I'll blame it on that and the fact that we couldn't go see Paul McCartney because the tickets were $145 and we didn't want to or I didn't all day but then unexpectently I did. I wanted to see The Beatles actually. Maybe I wanted my youth back. That could've been it and that story on the ski jumpers triggered all of that. Sure that sounds plausable...