~drying parsley and sage from our garden~

Farmbeau’s 44th birthday. Grey, breezy, might rain again. His older sister arrived from Calgary last night and is next door.

Barney and I were going to go into town so he could shop for a birthday gift. “I’m going to buy you something — with my own money!” he told Farmbeau last night. But the van is in for repairs since I heard a knocking noise on Saturday, so I am not sure how we’ll get in. I guess there will be a borrowable vehicle around here somewhere.

I still haven’t got anything. It’s hard to shop for him. All I can think of that excites him (besides sex and work and food) are tools, and he has to be the one to choose them for himself so he gets what he wants. He’s really picky. I think I might start a cash account to put money in for him to use to buy tools. But I hate to give someone cash for their birthday; at least, only cash.

Today I will bake a chocolate cake and some kind of extremely rich squares that he loves. The boys and I will take him out for supper, then come back here for cake and coffee with Jack and Dawne.

Don’s blowing his nose, and was stuffed-up last night, so I asked him to stay home and rest today rather than going to school and maybe the cold getting worse.

Max, a bachelor farmer who is our close neighbour, stopped over last night. He quit drinking around Christmas, after about 30 years of constant imbibing. He just up and quit. Probably something to do with doctor’s orders. I’m impressed, anyway. It isn’t easy to stop any habit cold-turkey.

Farmbeau wasn’t home yet so we sat in the living room downstairs and I got us both a non-alcoholic beer. He doesn’t like the brand I like, and likes the one I dislike. We got talking about beer. He said “You used to drink Canadian.”

“Could be,” I replied. “Not that it would have made much difference to me. I find them all sort of the same. I’m no connoisseur.”

“I remember once you had your dad’s van -- a silver and black Chev -- and you had Canadian and me and B had Boh. Good times. Lots of laughing in those days. Always lots of laughing.”

Gail came with her two kids while he was here. We had mint tea in the kitchen. Don and Gail sat side by side at the table, his hand on her arm as he told her all about his summer and she asked him questions about what school is like this year.

After they all left and we were downstairs getting ready for bed, Farmbeau asked me “So how was that visit?”

“Fine for me,” I said. “How about for you? It must have been more weird for you.”

“Ha,” he said. “Weird? I live with you, remember. Nothing's weird anymore.”

A little later, snuggled up together, he said “I bet it seemed weird to Max.” We chuckled.

“Yeah, I saw his eyes widen when I mentioned that Gail was coming over. I’ve seen that look before, when someone who knows your history together finds out she is Don’s aide. It’s as if they think it’s a surprising situation.”

I remembered when Farmbeau was first driving out to Edmonton to see me all the time, and we’d make up stories he could tell his baffled friends back here about what he was doing: dating a native lady with 10 kids and a wooden leg, for instance.

“Next time you’re over at Max’s for one of your all-night drinking parties,” I said, and he raised an eyebrow, “you should tell him that I want Gail and the kids to move in with us and you don’t know what to do, whether you could handle both of us or not.

"Oh, and Max is going to take some of the jalapeno peppers. I told him Sabani and his girlfriend have this recipe for pepper poppers and we should all get together for a popper-making bee.”

“You said that to him?”

“Uh huh.”

He laughed, imagining what Max must have thought of that, knowing my history with Sabani.

Ah, the tangled webs.

xoxoetc
~~~Kate