So it looks like I'll have the opportunity to practice compassion, boundary-setting, patience and a slew of other virtues/skills, I'm guessing. There's a 13-year-old boy in my new condo complex, who apparently has no concept of personal space/privacy. Okay, that's kind of extreme. Basically, he walked right into my place on Saturday evening as the bunch of us were sitting around eating after moving all my stuff. R. walked him through the process of ringing the doorbell, waiting for an answer, and also being told no, but I'm wondering what to do about this sort of thing in the future.

I'm guessing the boy is mildly autistic or something, going by his manner and his lack of normal responsiveness/interaction. But who knows? What I do know is that I don't really feel comfortable having him come over to play with my two-year-old son.

Oh, I didn't mention that? Yeah, his dad told me on Sunday that his son is "dying" to play with my son, and that I should feel free to let my son come over to ask his son to play anytime. Hmm. Part of what bothers me about this is that the dad doesn't seem to see something unusual about a teenage boy playing with a toddler. Clearly there's more to this than meets the eye.

I don't want to be a bitch and tell the kid he can never come over, but I also don't want him just barging into my place (or even onto my deck) repeatedly. Also, I don't want to somehow become an unpaid babysitter for a teenage boy at my house.

*sigh* I'd really envisioned Grant's playmates being his age or close to it. I don't want to alienate people right off the bat at my new place, but there's something about this whole thing that just doesn't sit right with me. R. suggested I have the kid, his dad and grandma (they all live together) over for tea and tactfully find out what's going on. Truth is, I don't even feel like doing that. Perhaps that will change after I get properly settled.

In the meantime, I've sent emails to a few moms on the Matching Moms site, and gotten one response so far from a mom who lives very close by and has a son Grant's age. She also sounds interesting and pleasant, and we plan to meet sometime after she gives birth (any day) to her second son. See, now that all seems normal to me.

Geez. I feel like I'm entering a slightly difficult situation with that kid in my complex. I hope I can handle it gracefully and correctly...

- Beth

Sunday

I slept till 10 and was on my second cup of coffee when Farmbeau's sister and two-year-old Beckster made their way up the front steps and pounded on the door. So we have been chatting and sipping on the deck for the past two hours and I am due at the other house for dinner at 1:00. So much to do, so little time!

I meant to call the boys, too. Told Don I’d call after we got home. We arrived last night at suppertime after dropping Aunt Ada off at Grandma's.

Good to be home. Good to be home. Good to be home.

The garden has doubled or tripled in size. We walked through it (*I* walked, Farmbeau weeded) and picked (*I* picked) beans and peas and lettuce and spinach and green onions and strawberries.

****

Boys are fine, as usual. Going to see their dad's friends' little girls today. Playing (Barney) Internet games, worrying (Don) about going to see his old aide and her son .

And I’ve got to head next door.

****

4:30 pm

My flowers all survived the heat wave, with a little help from my/their friends, Millie and her daughter-in-law in the other yard, who came over and did some watering. The cosmos still haven’t bloomed, but some pretty orange poppies have, and some giant zinnias. God, those things are gorgeous -- zinnias -- and in my case, I never know quite what they’re going to look like. They always surprise me -- the variety of them.

I should go pull a few weeds from the garden before watering the southfacing flowerbed next to the house. Must remember to take a container out there to bring back spinach for a supper salad.

Farmbeau's sister brought whitefish down from the Flin Flon area so that was the featured item at today’s dinner, along with a bursting birthday cake for Farmbeau's dad. When the balloon didn’t pop quite as expected, and dream whip didn’t cover him in white goo, the grandkids dug their fingers into it and smeared it on his face. I couldn’t see if he was smiling or not, as I stood off to the side, at the kitchen sink.

I also want to get out for a walk to the corner. Went last night just as the sky was darkening; from west to north a dusky pink light shone through the dark blue just above the horizon. Wow, thought I. Fantastic. Better than anything I have seen in the past two weeks away. Can’t beat a good sunset, I guess.

We did travel through some beautiful countryside. Southern Saskatchewan has way fewer trees than we have here, and has expanses of paper-flat fields. Wow. I loved driving over that.

Toward Three Hills, in Alberta, are the most beautiful rolling hills. Breathtaking, for the road snakes over their high points and you can see for miles and miles and miles and miles. For me, nothing much tops being able to see for miles and miles and miles and miles of colour and shape, shadow and dazzle and sunlight and blue sky. Wow.

The mountains have their own imposing beauty; I was especially awestruck by the ones you see as you approach Banff from the west. They are skyfilling, bare and jaggedly sharp in a horizontal slice-y way. The’ve been painted, I’m sure.

I am less appreciative of the views around Salmon Arm and Kelowna, since I do not like a wall of mountain too close to me, and these two cities are built on the slopes next to the valleys. Both Mom and Dad’s and Suzanne and Biff’s homes had nice vistas overlooking the lakes, so did not feel closed in.

Thank god they both had central air conditioning, though Mom and Dad’s was on the blink.

****

Monday
5:30 pm

I have lots of time to think, as I have been picking and washing and trimming and cutting and blanching and bagging and freezing wax beans.

And Farmbeau's visiting sister wanders over each morning to sit on the deck and drink coffee (with me) and smoke cigarettes (alone) for a couple hours.

So it'll be a while before I get into the swing of things. The garden will be a tyrant in the next few days, as there are pickling cucumbers ready to be picked, and a million more beans.

Oy.

Not complaining. Hell no; if I can put veggies into the freezer and not have to buy the sprayed stuff from the store all winter, it's well worth it and I'm happy. It's just that these beans were ready a week ago, comprendre?

So. I'll get back to this journal in bits and starts. Beth, please hold down the fort if you have time and inclination between unpacking and relaxing in your new home. I'm so glad for you -- you've paid your dues and can finally enjoy making your own home. Nothing quite like it.

Joseph, I got your email at yahoo.com when I got back and was just about to reply when I got interrupted and haven't had a chance to go to the site and answer again. But it was a great letter and came at a time when -- well, whenever I get to questioning why I keep the online journal and what the whole point of it is -- besides that it's addictive, right Beth? -- anyway, whenever I get in one of these states of mind, someone has always sent me a letter of appreciation for the journal -- so thanks, and I'll reply as soon as I get the opportunity.

Puff Puff
On to another spinach salad and another family supper over at South Forks -- whew! I just sat here for a couple minutes to relax with a glass of red wine, and got carried away, that's all!

xoxoetc
kate