Thursday, 2 November 2023

 I rolled off to Book Club today, with my three typed pages of text about Follett’s Cathedral series. And when I handed it out, most of the other members remembered reading the The Pillars of the Earth tome. They seemed interested in reading the newest sequel, as reported. I did warn about the possibility of lack of sleep thereby. And then the rest of the group reported, historical fiction being our genre for this meeting. And each of the other choices was a book based on a real event or happening. And each of them was Meaningful; indigenous people’s suffering, Japanese-Canadian internment during WWII, the pogrom of Jewish people in Poland, ditto. And more. To be honest, I felt a bit of a fraud with my cheerful epics of what never was.

It is November 2nd, and the calendar page has been turned. Our daughter contemplating the pond has been displaced by three candid snaps of the step-grandsons. Lovely to have this piece on the kitchen wall to admire, although we keep our data on a less exotic piece of paper on a clipboard. And in calendar booklets, pocket and purse sized. We do not use our iPhone apps; for one thing, we are not sure we know how and for another, we are used to our twentieth-century tools. JG’s brother used to be on at us about this, but we ignored him.

Tomorrow I am finally going to get the haircut I have needed for the last month. Also, while I am in town, I am going to buy the pie crusts I will need to make three pies on Saturday afternoon after I finish working at our community hall on Saturday morning to get the potatoes peeled for the dinner we are putting on on Sunday as a fundraiser. Thus, also, the pies. I think I have written about this event and the pie cooking before; the event is called the Hunters’ Dinner and we run it (Covid years excepted) on the Sunday before deer hunting season starts in this location. We have a neighbour who sights in rifles, and so the loud bangs have already started. The YD’s dog always hated these bangs and would need her paw held for some time after she heard one. Sadly, she is no longer around to hear them.

Nor is the YD around, as she is resident in Brussels for the next couple of years. Today her father wanted to show a photo of her swimming in a very cold-looking bit of water, but when I tried to find the photo on his phone, I phoned her by accident. Three times, I think. Three overseas calls. Thank goodness it was not a charged call series. I have a book on how to use an iPhone, and should perhaps be reading it in preference to Follett’s addictive fiction.

But reading is my delight, as well as my fortress. And evening is the time to indulge, yes?

Signing off. There is a novel waiting patiently beside the computer. (Note that Grammarly made me add those hyphens, but also wanted me to correct ‘sights’, not recognizing the usage. And corrected a spelling error.)

6 comments:

  1. I've seen the Hunters' Dinner posted on FB (I think it was). I hope it goes well.

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    1. Oh my, so do I. Our first try at this since Covid shut us down, with new cooks, new servers, and the same crowd, looking for continuity. Will report. If I survive.

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  2. I can imagine a dog’s reaction to the gun shots. Hunting is such an integral part of life in rural Canada but it can be tough on the animals in more ways than one.

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    1. Shammy was a city dog, but then there were fireworks. Mostly, though, she had a fine time, especially out here where she could wander unleashed through the property. She never went very far, mostly not out of sight of the house, but she was not on a leash.

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  3. So many things to mark the passage of time. It all makes me feel old and a bit discomfited at times. I loved the mention of holding Shammy's paw (was it Shammy?). I continue to love dogs as long as they are other people's.

    I haven't had pie of any kind in ages. I'm not a piemaker myself, but a trip to the local pie shop is obviously overdue. The problem is that I eat one piece and then I've had enough. Rick should not eat 7/8 of a pie, no matter how small it may be.

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    1. At any loud noise, thunder, gunshot, dropped pan lid, Shammy would need reassurance, this usually taking the form of attaching herself to whatever portion of me she could reach. If I were sitting in a chair low enough, she would rest her head on my knees and stare at me. What she was thinking, I cannot begin to guess. We had a dog of our own who was similarly noise shy, but her response was to get under a bed or other low piece of furniture.
      Dogs are fascinating.
      I have a pie keeper that has six separate segments with covers. They each take one segment of pie and that can then be frozen for later consumption. If you are quick enough to get the containers into the freezer, that works pretty well.
      'Shammy' was a shortening of 'Shamwari', the Shona word for friend. Wendy planned for her dog for a long time.

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