Bad at peopling

A snow storm blew through yesterday, the day after the snow plow was put away for the season. Sheila laughed. 

These guys were watching me through the living room window, wanting peanuts

With work closed, I sat on the floor of the empty third bedroom and assembled the bed frame my mother sent. She’ll only be staying for a few months out of the year, so it’ll be a guest room the rest of the time. (Or Gavin’s room, if he can’t get a job after he graduates next month.) She sent a gift card for Canadian Tire, and I picked up a gallon of paint in the color she wanted.

Stopping at Sobeys, I tried to practice looking at people. I realized I’ve been walking around with my head down like a teenager hiding behind their hair, and that’s not going to help make friends. So I smiled at the man standing next to the fruit I was reaching for, and he did a double-take, then looked sad and smiled. “Oh, you look just like someone I used to know, you have the same eyes.” He was a good-looking man about my age, tall with a grey beard and a kind face. I said that was nice to hear. “She was a dear friend from Alberta, but she… passed.” He looked like he realized this might be awkward as it was coming out of his mouth, and my guy, I GET IT. I told him I was sorry and thanked him for telling me. We waved and smiled and went on shopping. As I walked through the store I slapped my forehead. Was that not an opportunity to meet someone who seemed like-minded? Why did I not ask him any questions? What was your friend like? What happened? Are you from Alberta? What’s your name? I have been working in customer service and living in crisis mode for so long I’ve forgotten how to talk like a normal human - I either politely tell people to have a nice day or trauma-dump on them, and that is exactly why I’ve been watching my feet everywhere I go. Well, it’s a small town. If I ever run into him again I can have another go at it. And hopefully not be too weird.

Over the weekend, I decided to engage with Zenny and get her out of the house. She groaned and went limp in her chair when I said we should go hiking, so I gave her the good camera, showed her how to use it, and said we were going on a color walk. We drove over to one of the easy walking paths around a small pond, and she started hunting the color red, stopping every five paces to zoom in on leaves and rocks and birds. It took an hour to walk half a mile, but she was red-cheeked and excited by the end. “Tomorrow let’s try another!” VICTORY.

Saturday: she did red, I did white.

Zenny’s

Mine

Sunday: Roy G. Biv, the rainbow.

Zenny’s

Mine

 “I like photography. And I think I’d like baking, too.” Well, fuck yeah. I tossed the Baking for Two cookbook at her and told her to pick anything, I’d get the ingredients. 

She chose chocolate soufflés. We do not have a mixer. I am the mixer. Oh no.

That’s fine. THAT’S FINE. I showed her how to chop chocolate, demonstrated how to separate eggs, took out more eggs when she popped her yolks into the whites, tried not to flail around when she started drawing designs in the melted chocolate with a fork instead of moving on to the next step, then told her to pretend she was turning on the Kitchen Aid and proceeded to beat the shit out of those eggs until we had pale fluffy yolks and stiff meringue. My arms fell off. She folded everything together, put them in the toaster oven, and ate the rest of the chocolate while they baked. They were perfect. They were beautiful. They were delicious. We enjoyed them while watching the season finale of Traitors, and she jumped and clapped like a little kid when the contestants discovered the last betrayal. Before bed, she snuck up behind me while I was knitting, poked me viciously a few times, then laid her cheek on my head and hugged my neck. I love her. Being a teenager is hard, she’s doing pretty good.

I was reluctant to get on the scale this morning for the first time since the weekend, because I had been lazy about calorie counting and ate a soufflé, but the numbers were down 2lbs. Walking and shoveling makes the difference, I guess. When I couldn’t walk around the pond, I took a walk up the road by my house, and felt like I was in the Goonies. There’s an abandoned store just a short trot from my driveway, and I imagined an art gallery, with classes and figure drawing. Who knows? Life is short and the years are long. It could happen.

Day before the snow storm

Department of Big News:

Leif has been accepted into the engineering school at the University of Glasgow, as well as Memorial University in St John’s! He’s waiting to hear back about a possible full-ride scholarship for Glasgow before he makes the decision. They’re both great engineering schools, with MUN being a bit cheaper (and closer to his girlfriend, who’s locked into pre-med at Penn State), unless he gets the scholarship. I would not be mad about having a reason to visit Scotland and drink elderflower cider and eat meat pies, but I’d also love to have him here for holidays and long weekends. Whatever he decides is right for him, I’m so proud.