~ my first walk at the new place ~

Hm, I guess there is someone who notices when I don't get around to posting here. I received a phone call yesterday from Joanne, just making sure I was still kicking. I am; there are just not enough hours in the day, I tell you.

I usually get up at 8 o'clock, or just before, in time to give Emil a goodbye kiss before he walks out the door to catch the schoolbus. I spend the first hour of my day washing and dressing, drinking my black coffee, and eating breakfast -- the latter two often done while either working or playing at the computer.

Then it's time to go with Everett for a half-hour walk or bike ride. Part of his Grade 10 Wellness class requirement is one hour of physical activity each school day; we go again at 3 p.m. This has been great. All the years I've tried to get him to go with me for walks and bike rides and have had to twist his arm; now he's gung ho to go. Seems like his favourite part is coming home to log his time in a file to be sent to the phys ed teacher at the end of each month. That's my boy: give him something to record, and he's in heaven. He logs it all so carefully, down to the exact minute -- far more detail I'm sure than the teacher needs or wants. However -- whatever floats the kid's boat.

At 10 o'clock Everett sits down to begin his paperwork, which arrived in the mail on Wednesday. Until then I'd been making him adhere to a schedule, even without lessons, just to help him get into the habit of it. I got him to do dishes or bake cookies or vacuum out my van. He couldn't wait for the books to arrive! When they did, he attacked the sealed cardboard box voraciously and has been hard at it ever since. Yesterday he spent all this "school" time on the first Math assignment; today he's working on English.

While he's doing schoolwork, I do my computer work; except from 11 to 12, when he needs the computer. That's when I do my yoga.

Our working day is done between 3:30 and 4 o'clock, after the second half-hour walk or ride. That's when Emil gets home from school and I get into the kitchen to start supper, cleaning and wiping as I go. After supper I generally do a little more computer work to make sure I've put in my four-hour day. Many times I have to put in an hour or two because I've had to do other things in the afternoon; maybe go for groceries or massage or a medical appointment. Whatever; there's always something. Last night after supper Everett and I went over to the new place to pick tomatoes and cucumbers the owners left in the garden, and the last few cobs of corn. It rained all day yesterday but I figured it could still freeze any one of these nights and it would be a shame to see all those vegetables worthless.

On Monday, my sister Karen and I drove to Humboldt to meet Dad and his girlfriend for lunch. Yes, Dad has finally met a woman who's made him sit up and take notice! She — her name is Grace (same as Mom's), how's that for a coincidence — seems like a real sweetheart and it's good to see Dad enjoying himself again; Karen and I gave the thumbs up. Not that it was asked for; it wasn't. We joked as we drove up to the restaurant that it wasn't Grace who should be nervous about the meeting, but Karen and I, because if we didn't like her, it wouldn't make a damn bit of difference to what Dad would do! Which is the way it should be.

So anyway, here I am, trying to explain how my life is so full I don't have time to write. How women do it and work 40 hours a week, I don't know and can't remember. I used to do it, and my kids were younger than they are now. Oh well; I suppose I didn't get the walks in that I do these days, or the yoga; and we had a dishwasher. The grocery shopping would have been done in the evenings, and Grandma wasn't around to be visited or taken to appointments. As I recall, I felt like I inhaled on Sunday night and didn't exhale till Friday after work; I was sick at heart, afraid I might have to spend the rest of my life like that.

So now, I'm busy, but ... it's self-imposed busyness, at least.

After supper I try to just be around without having a bunch of things I have to do ... there are phone calls to friends and family that I may make, or they may call me; there are baths to be had; a sunset walk is also common. I might whip up some fudge or a puffed wheat cake for a treat; but I try to climb into bed around 9 to read before sleep, and/or listen to the radio. Last night I turned the light out around 10 and slept right through to 7:30 this morning.

All this week Everett and I have been going over to the new place to feed the old dog they have left there for us. The owners have moved out and left us a key to the house, and their permission to move in whenever we like, even though the paperwork has not been done and we are not yet the legal owners. Our 35 acres is being subdivided from a quarter-section; that is the delay. I used to think we'd move in immediately after they left; now I am not gung ho to do so, at all. Should anything in the sale go awry, it would be a lot of packing, hauling, and unpacking time spent for nothing, only to be repeated. Not that anything's likely to go wrong, but anything's possible. Also, there are a few renovations we'd like to do while the house remains empty, but we can't do them until we take legal possession. For now it is enough to stroll through the vacant rooms every day and get a feel for the place, and spend some time with the old dog, Buddy, who must be feeling a little abandoned since his people left, on Sunday, for the last time.

***

Have any of you ever had this happen? Numerous times in my life I have had the experience of hearing Dad's voice state my name — sometimes in a somewhat urgent manner, others in a matter-of-fact way — when I am at the other end of the country from where he is. This has happened maybe once every few years. I never gave it much thought other than it being interesting; there was never anything obvious going on at the time, such as Dad calling out to me in a time of trouble or anything like that. All I could figure was that maybe he was thinking about me and I knew, telepathically. I could only guess.

Recently I visited my sister Joan in Kelowna one month after she had a baby. He was very colicky at night and I was helping look after him for a week while my brother-in-law went away on a company fishing trip up in the Queen Charlotte Islands. One night I was awakened by his voice calling my name. I lifted my head up in bed to see what he wanted, remembered that he wasn't there, but got up anyway to check on the baby and everyone else. All was well.

It occurred to me after this that yes, I can honestly say I have heard voices in my head! My brother-in-law's came as I slept, so I could say I dreamed it. But Dad's always came when I was wide awake, so I can't use that excuse.

So there you go, Joanne and all ... I am doing fine; thanks for asking. Unless ...

Dad: "You know what they say about people who hear voices in their heads! They're crazy!"

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