Weekend Update

I'm still hobbling about though I went for a very long walk this morning, partly as rehab, partly to alleviate my stiff, stiff joints and, mostly, to use my magic stick. Yeah, I have a magic stick. The weekend was full of surprises that way.

My father flew in from Calgary after visiting his brother in Windsor (yes, he had to fly to Calgary to get to Windsor even though we live on the prairies-see also Dan Bern "Lightning Jazz" "Every plane flies to Phoenix, even if you're trying to fly from New York to Boston you have to fly to Phoenix") so my parents arrived in the wee hours of Saturday morning.

It was raining Saturday so my father and I accompanied my mother to a birthday party for my mother's friend's 90 year old father. It was here I confronted my future in the face of Violet. She was new to "the home for the Aged" (this is prominently set in stone above the building's double security doors and made my father and I laugh- is this a cheese factory?- though I soon forgave the fine institution for the label when I saw they had Happy Hour three days a week. I am now campaigning hard to convince Ma and her sister to get on the waiting list) and when I asked her if she liked it there she said, "It's different... it's very different."

She lived her whole life in this town, at home with her mother and twin sister Viola who died only recently in their 90th year. Childless, having never married and no contact with any of her 3 brother's children, she delcared herself the "lone survivor". Come for the cupcakes, stay for the heartbreak.

"So," she said lightly, changing the subject, "who's this party for anyway? I don't have a clue who this man is." We had that much in common. Still, if I can find a pensioners palace with Happy Hour on weeknights, I think I'll be okay. At least I'll have practice attending stranger's birthdays.

After that I went in search of information regarding the local cemetery walks. While perusing the tourist brochures I was pleased to discover I had already experienced one of their much lauded attractions: the ER. The blurb highlights the hospital's cutting edge medical equipment "including a CT scanner" and "dedicated medical evacuation helicopter on standby should an emergency occur in the area" which I have every intention of riding in to see that Scott fellow again. Why they didn't have his picture in the inset...

Speaking of modelling, on the way home I spent a good three minutes with this beauty on the side of the highway:

Big Brother made it in time for dinner and the rain let up long enough for all of us to spend the evening around the fire.

When Beavers Go Bad

I have always thought it silly to be afraid of sharks. The odds of a shark attack are something like .000006% if you like to play in the surf or absolutely none if you stay on dry land. It’s a waste of energy to worry about sharks.

 Beavers, on the other hand, are terrifying. People make fun of Canada for having the beaver as it’s national animal but, if you’re not at least a little afraid of an amphibious rodent with engineering skills, you deserve to be enslaved by beaver overlords. Laugh all you like but unless they’ve forgotten (and I doubt they have, what do you think they do for entertainment in those lodges if not tell stories) that little episode in history when we were turning them into hats, it’s not going to be pretty.

I paddled out to the creek this evening and sat by the dam listening to the nature chorus when I saw a beaver disappear underwater. I hauled out my camera and waited. And waited. And waited. I did a little cloud fishing the fruits of which I will post next week when I have a faster, more reliable connection.

I waited some more, then a little bit more but nothing more notable happened so I started to head back. I was about to round the final bend back onto the lake when a canon shot rang through the marsh. A hundred pound beaver issuing a warning with a slap of his tail. All hail the first of our beaver overlords.

Five  minutes later, with my heart still racing from my narrow escape I was back on the lake proper when a beaver cut me off. Literally. Swam right in front of my kayak. I barely stopped in time to keep from hitting him. He did not flinch. He did not waiver. He did not disappear to swim under water. He was unabashed and quite casual. Nerves. Of. Steel.

 I, meanwhile, did the thing where I snapped a dozen pictures in the wrong mode so I have no proof of this encounter, but  take heed people. They’re getting bold.  It’s only a matter of time before they start urbanizing; felling traffic lights, hydro lines and telephone poles. Let this serve as my equivalent tail slapping canon shot warning to all of humanity. They’re coming. And Jaws is going to seem like a birthday party ...