(Before you give me heck I know Shingles is a nasty medical issue!)
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Hubby and I just returned from a visit to Ontario. My brother-in-law and his wife celebrated their 50th anniversary in grand style with all kinds of trips down memory lane through photos and stories. They have a lovely family and many friends, a testament to the kind of people they are. The trip was also to bury Gregg’s parent’s ashes and hold the memorial for his mom who passed away last October on her 100th birthday. We also interred the ashes of my sister-in-law’s mother Gladys in the same plot. Many stories ensued as everyone took turns recounting fun memories and tales of their lives; it was a lovely tribute, happy and bittersweet all in one.
One tale about Gregg’s parents made me smile; the meeting and beginning of the love story between his father Jim and mother Wynn. Apparently Jim, an air force pilot met Wynn at a dance. Wynn and her friend liked to go to the air force dances, but only when it was officer night as they hoped to meet and perhaps snag a man of rank. The two met and danced the night away and at the end of the evening while a bit imbibed; he put her in a cab and only realized he hadn’t asked her last name the following day. I guess she’d made a big impression because he decided to dial every number in the phone book, starting with the A’s and asking if a Winnifred lived there. Being of Irish decent, he was touched by a bit of luck, because Wynn was an Achurch, the third listing in the book. How sweet and mega romantic is that! Perhaps if her last name had begun with Z, I might not writing this blog, but I’d like to think he would have forged ahead risking blisters from dialing the old rotary phone to the last number.
Before I left Nova Scotia for our visit, we had a bus load of 25 rug hookers from the states. These gals covered a lot of territory on their pilgrimage to visit the Rug Hooking Museum of North America and every rug hooking shop along the way. They still managed to find inspiration in our store even though we were pretty much at the end of the line. I can imagine the multitude of wool and patterns stowed away on that bus! It’s going to be a very busy winter for those rug hookers!
Our lives have been hectic lately. I like to keep busy but I’m worn a bit thin. We spent two weeks priming and painting cedar shingles, 30 bundles in total, first priming them dark grey and then the black topcoat for the apartment building we own. We’ve put it on the market but couldn’t let it go in a sad condition. The insides are immaculate but some of the shingles were brittle so we’ve hired carpenters to replace them. We tried to keep the cost down by doing some of the work ourselves but painting the shingles and hanging them to dry in our garage was laborious and tiring. Panicked for time, we painted till the wee hours of the morning so by the time we left for Ontario we weren’t speaking as the stress of it all had taken its toll and our tongues. We were so sleep deprived we didn’t really care; silence meant we didn’t have to form full sentences or linger in coherent thought. The time away recharged our batteries back to full strength, it was so relaxing there we almost hated to come back home.
People keep asking if we are enjoying our boat and I hate to answer, “Not really” but it’s the way it is. She’s been left to bob up and down as there is only so much time to play. The electric winch gave up the ghost on our first sail and there’s been no time to fix it. Anyone that knows the Nonsuch is familiar with the ginormous sail that needs raising. It takes the two of us to pull it up by hand, Gregg at the mast pulling and me in the cockpit trying to steer the boat with my foot while taking up the slack. Gregg wants to take it all apart first to check and see if it only needs a cleaning before calling in the expert.
This past weekend was the 2019 Nonsuch Rendezvous and we were going come hell or high water and although we got there late, we had a great time. Of course it wasn’t all smooth sailing. Our outhaul shackle pin snapped as we were about to cross the start line of the race which put a damper on the moment but there was a silver lining. That story will come later. Well that’s it for now more shingles wait!
One tale about Gregg’s parents made me smile; the meeting and beginning of the love story between his father Jim and mother Wynn. Apparently Jim, an air force pilot met Wynn at a dance. Wynn and her friend liked to go to the air force dances, but only when it was officer night as they hoped to meet and perhaps snag a man of rank. The two met and danced the night away and at the end of the evening while a bit imbibed; he put her in a cab and only realized he hadn’t asked her last name the following day. I guess she’d made a big impression because he decided to dial every number in the phone book, starting with the A’s and asking if a Winnifred lived there. Being of Irish decent, he was touched by a bit of luck, because Wynn was an Achurch, the third listing in the book. How sweet and mega romantic is that! Perhaps if her last name had begun with Z, I might not writing this blog, but I’d like to think he would have forged ahead risking blisters from dialing the old rotary phone to the last number.
Before I left Nova Scotia for our visit, we had a bus load of 25 rug hookers from the states. These gals covered a lot of territory on their pilgrimage to visit the Rug Hooking Museum of North America and every rug hooking shop along the way. They still managed to find inspiration in our store even though we were pretty much at the end of the line. I can imagine the multitude of wool and patterns stowed away on that bus! It’s going to be a very busy winter for those rug hookers!
Our lives have been hectic lately. I like to keep busy but I’m worn a bit thin. We spent two weeks priming and painting cedar shingles, 30 bundles in total, first priming them dark grey and then the black topcoat for the apartment building we own. We’ve put it on the market but couldn’t let it go in a sad condition. The insides are immaculate but some of the shingles were brittle so we’ve hired carpenters to replace them. We tried to keep the cost down by doing some of the work ourselves but painting the shingles and hanging them to dry in our garage was laborious and tiring. Panicked for time, we painted till the wee hours of the morning so by the time we left for Ontario we weren’t speaking as the stress of it all had taken its toll and our tongues. We were so sleep deprived we didn’t really care; silence meant we didn’t have to form full sentences or linger in coherent thought. The time away recharged our batteries back to full strength, it was so relaxing there we almost hated to come back home.
People keep asking if we are enjoying our boat and I hate to answer, “Not really” but it’s the way it is. She’s been left to bob up and down as there is only so much time to play. The electric winch gave up the ghost on our first sail and there’s been no time to fix it. Anyone that knows the Nonsuch is familiar with the ginormous sail that needs raising. It takes the two of us to pull it up by hand, Gregg at the mast pulling and me in the cockpit trying to steer the boat with my foot while taking up the slack. Gregg wants to take it all apart first to check and see if it only needs a cleaning before calling in the expert.
This past weekend was the 2019 Nonsuch Rendezvous and we were going come hell or high water and although we got there late, we had a great time. Of course it wasn’t all smooth sailing. Our outhaul shackle pin snapped as we were about to cross the start line of the race which put a damper on the moment but there was a silver lining. That story will come later. Well that’s it for now more shingles wait!
This waWynn and Jim, young and in love.
Below is Jim (right) in his captain seat of a 747 he flew for Air Canada. This was his last flight from Hawaii before he retired in 1981.
Below is Jim (right) in his captain seat of a 747 he flew for Air Canada. This was his last flight from Hawaii before he retired in 1981.
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