My Typical Day

Jeff Koons on the roof of the Met. Does it get any better?


Nice...sculpture.

End of the month. Rent due tomorrow. Reality. I stay sane and hit the gym for a good work out. I walked in the park and said hello to my trees and statues and benches. I wrote e-mails looking for jobs. I did the tasks that I had to do and then I went to the Met.

I went to the Met to say to myself that I did my work for the day and it was time to be part of why I live here.

Going to the Met always reminds me that I live in one of the world's true great cities. Many cities are "great," sure but not great in magnitude, cultural and significant. New York City is one of them. As I walked up 5th Avenue towards the mighty steps I envisioned all the people outside the mighty museum in their "national costumes." It made me realize how significant this museum is and in the map of the world it is just right across the park from me.

I have been here many times, but today was the first time I truly appreciated the magnitude of the place. It is HUGE. And ENDLESS. And VAST, COMPREHENSIVE and wonderful.

I caught the Turner exhibit. (landscapes are lovely, but I'll take Sergeant." The "Art of the Royal Court: Treasures in the Pietre Dure from the Palaces of Europe" was wonderful and obscene. I was stunned the most by how vibrant the precious stones held up after all these centuries.

Then I went to Jeff Koons on the roof. I have always loved his stuff since I saw a huge exhibit in San Francisco many years ago. And the view was breathtaking.

Yes, today I worked hard, worked out and enjoyed the world around me. A perfect day in the "it could all be over tomorrow" school of living.

Going Home

DeSoto cab fetched me at 4:40am this morning, but my "plains, trains, automobiles" trek back to Manhattan from San Francisco began when my scary iphone alarm (clarion bells?) woke me from the dead at about 3:40am. I came in a fog and I left in a fog.

The plane ride was pleasant enough and uneventful. I read and slept. If I wanted to become well-read I would have to buy a private jet because that seems to be the only place I can concentrate. And what a delight reading can be, kids!

I go back to New York a year older, a shade fatter and a tad more unemployed. But getting out of town I find is always a REFRESH. I am keen and all list-making with it. I am ready to take that big bad city on once again and wrestle it to the ground until it submits. All bravado while reading a self-help book masked as a memoir so many thousand feet in the air. But still.

New York is hot and muggy. I take a shuttle to save money instead of a cab. If time is money then I overspent instead of saved. It was a long ass journey of a few boroughs and many drop-offs. I know I getting more like a local as I had to yell at the driver to drop me off when he was leaving the Upper West Side. I have no idea where he planned to dump me, but it was not anywhere in my hood.

The best vacations are the ones where I feel happy to be on them and then satisfied and happy to go back home. This was the case and as my browstoney, muggy, tree-lined, fill with mankind street unfolded in front of me, I was happy to be back.

The Kiss

(shhh...right behind this cable car)


I kissed a boy on the street in San Francisco today.

Like the war had just ended. That is how I kissed him.

My parents were married at Old St. Mary's Cathedral on California & Church in Chinatown, San Francisco on August 9th 1958. In fact this year would have been their 50th. Back then the priest did not lean over and say, "50 years from now your gay, bagpiping son will be coming here for AA meetings." I think he probably thought it would have been inappropriate to mention. "What, we are going to have a bagpiper? No son of mine.... John, get snipped," my mother might have thought.

There it is I am gay, an alcoholic and a bagpiper. Only a few things about me, but some major ones and the three items I tend to hide at various times. For various reasons. Blogging can be this odd forum to reveal all when you can't get on the Oprah show and for that it can be eye-rolling I will admit, but I need my laundry to be clean and tidy and like me, hung out to dry out.

****

I sat in a room there at Old St. Mary's holding the big book while we read about a woman who got repeatedly married in an effort to sort herself out. It didn't work. At the point in the meeting where one can offer that they are visiting, I said in my own hometown that I was a visitor from New York. "Hi, I'm Pat and I am alcoholic visiting from New York." It felt odd, but good. Clearly, I seem to be all about honesty...

At one point I looked up and caught the eye of a guy sitting across. Eye catching can happen a million times and doesn't necessarily mean attraction in my opinion. I catch eyes with strangers often. But (and here is too much disclosure hoping I am SO not alone in this) I got distracted during the reading and starting thinking in a systematic pecking order fashion about which guys in the circle I would sleep with. This guy I caught eyes with was my #1. (Am I the only one to do this? Really?! C'mon people fess up. )

After the meeting he introduced himself to me and asked if I wanted to go for lunch. How odd, forward, sweet and hot was this, I thought. Yes, sure. We walked across Grant and went into a Chinese restaurant that could take one back to opium dealing in the 40's if one had been there to begin with. I won't say too much here as his privacy is still his and though it would add so greatly to the story, I cannot break someone else's anonymity.

As we dined and talked and told each other how we ended up in a room at Old St. Mary's, I got that he was gay and we were mutually attracted. I was having flirtatious fun with my Chow Fun. It was hot, sublime, sweet, sexy, silly and, for me, thawing.

I guess I reveal all this cringible personal stuff as I am at the point in my life where I have to let it all go. I have had so much fear of revelation of myself and I have to let it go. So here I sit with a handsome guy who says he wishes I wasn't leaving tomorrow and I agree. Breaking character, I tell him I find him really attractive. He concurs that he feels the same about me. (Okay, I should have gotten this year book prose out of the way when ya'll did in high school, but I a latent. That is the point.)

I had a 6am flight in the morning with a 4:30am taxi pickup. He had to go to work. This was it. This was the event. As we walked out of the opium den and hit the light on Grant, I turned to him and gave him a real kiss right there on the street. This was not me, but it was because I did it. This was me sober and not hiding behind John Courage. I kissed him like the war had just ended (sans dip) and walked toward Market to meet a friend at the Intercontinental. And he walked the other way towards his work.

Like moving to New York, this kiss was key this year.

Back in a Fog

Drove back to the city ala Granny on the Beverly Hillbillies with the two kids, this sis and the bro-in-law and me on the rocker. We coasted down 101 in Marin and right after the tunnel where San Francisco was scheduled to appear in all its magnifincence, the fog had shrouded the event in, well, fogginess. We were back in town and it felt like night. No more summer at the River. It was reality and it was dark.

I remember when I was a kid growing up here I always thought sun was for special occassions. This was pretty smart litttle kid thinking since, save for the dentist in Belmont, my parents only drove us to the sun for something special. I didn't realize until later that people actually lived in the sun. Wow.

I let Mitch and Claire have at it with my camera. They initially wanted to do funny faces and then went for the most abstract. Here is their first public exhibition:

Just Be There

It was a delight to leave the encampment at the River and come back to Waldhaus, Eileen and Rick's place in Forestville. The whole family was there and it was another mini-reunion within a reunion where we bought one more night together as a family living life in the redwoods. No long commute back to reality. A stay, if you will, from parting. I have to say it was great to be there and just be. My five nieces and nephews, my 3 siblings, my 3 in-laws and me, Just Pat.

Into the Woods

Some very key people who know me long time. Great musicians all.

Sean and I left to meet Will, Kenny, Danny, Scott, Malcolm, Davey and John to play pipes at the summer encampment up at the Russian River that will remain nameless. I love being invited by Will to participate every year for the sheer wonderment of it all and this incredible reunion opportunity of some select guys that mean the world to me. And I can say that sober now! We play pipes and drums in the redwoods together which has a magical wafting sound or at least I like to think it does. I can’t stand how glorious it really is.

I do have to say there is so much alcohol available at this camp that I fear a contact high. This was difficult to handle a few years back, but I just learn to love the stars and the food and craic. We did happen into one camp where expert musicians played the most amazing Cajun music. Turns out it was Marc Savoy and his two sons. They are probably the top Cajun musicians in the world. It was A-mazing.

Music everywhere and loads of talent. We played a Scottish show at our camp that went well though I wanted to play more! A good sign coming from a reluctant musician. I guess when I calm myself I can realize that playing music is a gift and not a chore. I can get so caught up in fear of exposure of my lousiness as a musician and lose sight of tradition, the spirit of all folk music in the sharing and passing on, and the idea of friends playing together.

A great day all in all.

Happy Birthday, Mr. New York Blogger Fella.

Johnnie on the Pipes

Mitch working hard on the practice chanter.

The talent preps backstage for the show.

Today I am older. And it is okay. I almost have no time or interest to feel anything about it. I just want to go to the river and play with the kids.

We had a wonderful day and a lovely meal with the whole family out on the deck. Mitch and John and Sean and I played pipes and drums and the girls all did Irish dances. I filmed it with my new Flip video and if I was up to speed you would be able to click on it here. If it was your pleasure, of course.

We had root beer floats instead of cake.

Patrick’s Eve

Seona and Jeff came up from Morro Bay and the whole family converged on Eileen and Rick’s cabin in the Russian River for a family holiday. I had never been to their new place and it was magnificent. I loved every nook and many of the crannies. The beds everywhere and the deck and the repurposed craft decorations all worked perfectly. I am so happy for them and grateful for their hospitality in hosting all of us. So grown up to have a summer place as well as a city place, don’t I think?

Today is the day before my birthday which I will so happily celebrate with my family. What good fortune this visit, this holiday, fell on my birthday. I look around and I am happy. By day I am happiest. We have always (ever since I coined it many years ago) called this day "Patrick’s Eve." I still want to be called Pat by my family except for this exception.


Family dining along the Russian River, No. California.



My two nephews and one lucky uncle.



Mitch playing a Native American something-or-other with his second favorite uncle, Jeff

Da lassies, Oonagh and Claire

Like we used to do when we were kids, putting on a show for the parents.

Two Irish Dancers.

Life and Death

My mum died 4 years ago today. And today I met my 4 month old niece for the first time.
Two major players in my life in very different ways. I found this juxtaposition (why do I HATE this word so much!!!?) lovely.

Thankfully I had contacted my Auntie Marina and Uncle Tommy in adnvance of my trip West and asked them if they could meet me at the cemetery and then be my guests for lunch ( SO grown up and its about time.) My brother Sean brought the kids over from the East Bay and Eileen took a quick break from a crazy work schedule so we could all meet at Mum and Dad’s grave to check in and show respect. I embraced my 8 month older niece Oonagh and my 8 month older nephew John. Once again kids happy to see their uncle. They had not forgotten me either! And wee Rita. I had never laid eyes on her until this moment when I peered down into to her stroller which is perched on the grass atop the dead body next to Mum and Dad. Life and death entwined. “Grandma, Grandpa, here’s your new granddaughter. Don’t get up, it’s okay, but she is here above you.”

I played “Mist Covered Mountains” on my bagpipes (Scott, I want you to play this at my funeral) to honor my parents and then we all went to Baker’s Square.

My new niece, Rita, with Big sis, Oongah and Big Bro John

Auntie Marina with Rita

Gotta love Baker's Square private banquet fascility

Lovely Times in Crazyville.

Pat, Jon, Rick, Eileen, Jan.

First I want to say I am embarrassed for whining publicly about my blogging issues. Though it did illicit probably the most comments I have ever had. Crises are good for attention. Is that you Blogosphere, it's me Paddy? The beauty of blogging is you can shout out and people can tune in or not. I guess I have to figure HOW I want to shout out because I know I DO! I guess one something of importance, like woodworking or Icelandic government.

Tonight was delightful. Tonight in the real world. My friends Jan and Jon came over my sister Eileen and Rick's house and we had chicken picata with salad and a desert tray that would have pointed out on the WW scale. It was delishatudeiness. Why I did not do an aerial shot photo of it I do not know. The kids, Mitch and Claire, loved it.

I also got a Flip Video and the kids were rocked with filming the whole thing. We did an advance impromptu birthday party (which you can believe was not planned) and Mitch filmed it all. My sister brought up the unfortunate question to Jan and Jon re: WHY oh WHY is Pat still single? Squirm factor 3 because I am numb inside on the topic and the other one of "Why doesn't Pat have a brilliant career?" [This one I secretly ask myself... sigh...] Or any career? And then there was the on Rick asked,"Why don't you take off that 90s goatee?!" This had a higher squirm factor because I SO want to but I hide behind it. I would have to lose 20 pounds and wear a burka if I did that.

Pat is still single, Virginia, because he is a neurotic mess wrapped in a dumb smile.

Aside from all that, the evening was WON-der-ful. I delight in family and friends in a way that shows growth. It was great times. Uncle Pat is a very blessed, overweight, unemployed, single, hairy man.

Blogging

I have been blogging daily for almost a year now. It is time to check in. Or check out?

I am wondering if I should stop. The whole idea initially was to teach myself about the world of blogging and how to attach a photo or a video. I have done this.

Since I didn't have an idea for a blog that I felt confident enough to write about I decided to just write about my move to New York and subsequent life there. So basically an on-line diary is what I have. I cover my life for the cyberworld. Hey, no one else was out there covering my life so I guess I was offering a service. Or maybe there is a clear reason why no one was doing this. Supply and demand, baby.

Now I feel in a slump. What I feared was that it would come to just this: I write about my thoughts and worries for all to read - boring, banal, blubbering.

I need to end this or go to a marriage encounter weekend for bloggers. What I like is writing and observing and oftentimes seeing if I can express what I observe in a way that is unique. Now I have fallen into I did this and here is a picture.

This blogging was supposed to take me places. I have a friend who blogs for the Tennis Channel. He is damn good writer. I read daily blogs that are about stuff beyond the blogger's breakfast habits or holiday snaps.

I have no idea who is out there and I am embarrassed to say this to the faceless faithful three who read, but I am in a slump. But I am not sure I want to stop daily writing. Maybe I revamp the space and come back with a PERSONA or an ANGLE. Maybe I am an netherworld circus clown who shares recipes, but burns everything. Maybe I write about the Parks of New York. What is there a need for out there that I could fulfill. What is the itch that I could scratch? Are Pandas or Famolares covered on the web as much as they need to be? Do I print the "Word of the Day" and then write something pithy about it? Do I cover car shows but from the perspective of a dumbass?

It all started out because I was told to to blog I think in a way to shake up my life. Now I am essentially on the heap pile of bloggers with a power cord stuck in my arm: strung out, uninspired.

Maybe I go to Group which is a real New York thing. But I do Blogger Group. Or I take a writing class and keep it to myself.

Oh, here's a photo of San Francisco from the car.

A Girl and Her Dog

Maureen and Kobe getting ready to do their thing.

Met up with my pal Maureen for breakfast and a walk in the Park. Can there be anything finer? We were once both banking bagpipers, now we just like each other. We went to Noah's New York Bagels and I got the potato/peppercorn one that I love. I noticed that I could have played the "I live in New York and these are NOT real bagels" card which we did discuss, but 1. I didn't feel the need and 2. I realized in that moment that I didn't feel like a (qualified) New Yorker yet anyway. I live there now and I love it, but that is it. I don't feel like any place is inferior to it.

[Watch this space.]

Maureen has a dog, Kobe, who she adopted as an adult (Kobe is 56 now) from a couple who moved to Spain. (Once one person moves to Spain you tend to notice a lot of people moving to Spain. It is just like buying a certain SUV, etc.) Kobe is beautiful and a BARKER. She barks at the moving van, she barks at the kid on the skateboard, she barks at the little dog standing right there. She likes to bark. It is her thing. Much as other dogs wear tutus and jump through flames of fire is their thing.

Kobe in position

We went to Golden Gate Park by the old fly casting pond that Maureen explained was dry. I suppose I could have looked over and surmised that, but I would probably have to admit I didn't even recognize it as the fly casting pond.

She and Kobe have this ball throwing thing. Not original between woman and dog I will admit, but it was touching. Like me, Maureen does not join in on barking so this is something they can do together. And besides tennis balls there is stuff. There is this thing like a plastic claw that grabs the ball off the ground and you can throw with it. And there is electrolyte water. And there is a bag to carry it all in. Like everything in life, it is a whole thing. Reminded me of when I used to smoke cigarettes and all the stuff that I needed along with the smokes. But this thing is much healthier. Though with the price of dog food I cannot say it is less expensive.

The Thing.

When we got to the field to throw the ball with the thing I noticed other people with their dogs and the thing. But it is beyond just a thing; it is a whole deal. People, park, dogs. balls, throwing things. It is dog casting or ball casting with dogs as chasers. I loved being part of it even as merely a visitor there to audit this life.

For every thing you are not involved in there are people very involved in it. This is one.

Kobe with her Smart Water. It is key. Her English has vastly improved.

A great, great visit as always. I love that we manage to talk about the past, present and future without dwelling too heavily or inappropriately on any one category. We cover it. We laugh, we get thoughtful. We cover it. And back at the house we did it all while while I drank tea and Maureen made her 1,137th loaf of soda bread to perfection . Why I did not photograph that I do not know.

Summer in The City

My pal Sam from New York was out here at the same time and we met up in the Marina and had breakfast. It was really fun. He is an actor and will be on "Law and Order: Criminal Intent" tomorrow (Sunday) at 10pm on USA. He is a detective right at the beginning he tells me.


Sam & Pat

Lisa and Barry came in from Benecia and we had the most fab gastro afternoon with pizza at Delfina on 18th and ice cream at Bi-Rite Dairy. We walked around Delores Park to burn it off and then met Marjorie at the ever-groovy and expanded Rainbow Market. The whole lot went over to Ross flat were we drank tea and gabbed. It was surrounded by my buds! Bliss. A stroll over to the local Thai were Ross so nicely bought us all dinner. It was a great evening.

Marjorie and I then decided to dash to the cinema to catch the 9:20 screening of "Mamma Mia." It was fun in theory to go, but the movie was just so-so. We both agreed we were grateful Ross did not go as he would have hated it. Meryl is brill as always, and the scenery will spike tourism for certain. Poor, handsome Pierce Brosnan was embarrassing. Go see him in "The Matador" to wash the memory away and redeem him in your own mind. He is brill in that.

I cannot believe I have no pictures of any of this. I am a sucky, inconsistent blogger. What in hell was I thinking. All the great foodie locales, the sunny park, pals hanging in cool loft apartment, Thai beauty. All in the mind. Imagine it, but all 10lbs lighter.

Noe Valley Dreamin'

My nephew and niece were quick to pounce on their uncle's carcass in the ayem, but I got up and ambushed them in the kitchen. They, plus their 8 months + of life that I had missed being back east, were their to greet me. I cannot say how wonderfully comforting and glorious it was that we were all good with each other. They were happy to see me and I was somewhat surprised, but absolutely delighted. I kind of felt I would have been a tad forgotten when 8 months at those ages is a huge whack of life.

I met up for dinner with Jon and Kurt at their home in Noe Valley. Jon knows how to dress for success, cook a fab meal and be the most charming host. I don't know why I write like a social columnist here, but it has to be said! Kurt and I remain the grateful beneficiaries. It was a great time as always and Jon even made me the most amazing slumber chamber as I stayed over. Coffee and bread with marmalade in the morning and a lift to the Marina ended our inflight service.

I am so blessed with their friendship. I just feel at home when I am with them. And old, but luxurious sweater, which in my book is tops.

Kurt & Jon


Kurt and Pat

It's an IQ test: Who might these two be?


Risotto con limone e gambero


Amazing cookies from Noe Valley Bakery

JFK-SFO: Going Home

I left for my first trip back home today. It was smooth sailing with the shuttle through the sweltering heat of New York City to the airport. Smooth sailing at whatever a really slow amount of knots is. The traffic was bad, but our amazing driver got us through it and landed me at the United terminal.

Surprisingly I got the three seats across on the flight and was able to do a mini-sprawl and catch some sleep. We landed at 2am Saturday morning. There is nary a soul in that airport at that time. It is tumble-weed central as if the life on earth ended and a few odd zombies too over.

I took a taxi to my sisters and church-moused it downstairs to the inflatable mattress nicely prepared for me that we affectionately call Mr. Blowie.

Ahhhhh, home.

The Title of My Piece is... And it is about this ...

I was going to write about something really brilliant tonight. Like a real "piece." A keen observation with a "tone," a "voice." It was going to be anthology-worthy! A real writing submission.

But I forgot it entirely. And this time IT WAS BRILLIANT. I just swear it.

I do have some weird feeling it took place in my head as I was about to turn the key in the door downstairs, but that is all I got.

How in this day and age of paper and pencils (why do we always say "pencils" when we really mean pens? On the phone about to give the other person information: "You gotta pencil?") and iphones with notepads and audio memo thingies can I not get it committed to something other than my head? Well, because it was so brilliant, so insightful, I could not for the life of me forget it.

I have about 3 children's book that I am going to write. I started on one about a bird and Paris. I won't give more away --because it is so brilliant and in the wrong hands it just might...sell. And I have one about something else that I cannot think of off the top of my head, but it is written in the margin of something somewhere so I know it is safe. Hmm, where is that margin?

I got an offer to subscribe to the New Yorker for a "professional rate" (see The New Yorker KNOWS I am a brilliant writer of potentially something.) and I am toying with it in my head though I can hear my friend Sue say "Don't do it. We have already discussed this." But I see me getting it in New York and reading it. All New Yorkers seem to read the New York Times and the New Yorker always AND hold down jobs and have summer homes. Ding, ding,ding! I will simply read those too and the rest just has to come.

All I can say is a positive attitude and proper sleep have to be the answer to something. But what? Maybe I should try either and find out.

In the Park in the Dark

NY Phil/Central Park - Two Great Taste Sensations.

There is this blog that now has a book deal called "Stuff White People Like." It is essentially all the things that rock white people like Target, sweaters, gay friends, farmer's markets, comparing people to Hitler, suggesting they understand poverty and hardship through personal anecdotes, etc. It doesn't mean other people don't like these things, but white people definitely do. It is quite well written and photographed. And has a book deal. Nuff said.

The NY Phil played their summer concert in the Park tonight. this was SO something white people like. "White people like concerts in the park with picnics." So true. I know.

Ron was the red hen who mobilized the troops and made this happen. He made most of the amazing food and saved the space while we all worked. It was wonderful.

4:30pm. Ron lays claim to expensive real estate.


Later that day.

My detailed map e-mailed to all participants.

I went over in the afternoon to help him set up and I photographed the spot so in my multimedia way I could e-mail them the info with photo so they could find us. The trouble is this place fills up with of similarly looking, well, white people.

Pat and John put their heads together

Ron, Shawn and Gillian.

It was a mob scene of chilled white wine and cheese when I got back at 6:30pm. We had great real estate. If the Great Lawn were Manhattan we were right in the 70s and Central Park West.

My new town. Love it so much.

My biggest joy in life next to flossing and watching otters play is having people meet each other. I am a connector and I love just to watch people I think are great interact. I also like talking to strangers and there was plenty of that as your neighbors' plaid blankets were rubbing up against your tarp and table cloth in this high density market of concerts in the park.

Pat and John and Shawn and Nicole and Gillian and Ron and Stephen and Jay and myself finally all made it. Hilary was on the other side by the Texan flag landmark and could not get past the barricades. It was as if in a horror movie where a loved one is so close, yet too far to save. She had to walk around which is a bigger ordeal than can be interestingly described here. This and bad cell phone service (something white people HATE) could not save the day and Hilary called it. She wrote to me later and said people were just too vicious and mean and she just could take it no longer. Her sister who is high up in the music business here said, "The softer the music, the harder the people." I love that line.

Hilary's meal that she never got.

But those of us entrenched had a wonderful time and the music was beautiful. So clear. I stood in the middle of Central Park at night surrounded by friends and looked over the masses to the lit buildings lining Central Park South while the NY Phil played Beethoven and had to pinch myself.

Kaboom!

The French Flavored Fun Jamais Finis.

Amped up on local maple syrup!

It was time to leave the summer home and Laur and Warren and Jan, Ashley and Bodie. We had a lovely pancake feast with real local maple syrup on the porch as our parting meal. I had such a wonderful time with all of them and I feel so blessed to have been included. I am going to miss them all.

Amazing drove through the country down to Burlington, Vermont. Surly customs officer on the American side. I felt he was trying to catch me out on something. I told the truth and felt judged. Maybe it is my issue>

Took flight back to New York. My pal Ron picked me up at JFK and took me home. We then drove down to Jay and Stephen's for an amazing, amazing 5 course Bastille Day diner. The windows were draped in Red, White and Blue and the table had French and American flags on it. The 5 CD player played only French music. We had courses: 1. haricot verts with garlic and breadcrumbs, 2. a gorgeous fish stew, 3. gratin potatoes with Comte frommage, 4. pork tenderloin in milk and 5. a blueberry and peach tart with a walnut and almond crust. Why did I not photograph any of this food! It was amazing. And full of Weight Watcher's points. Full I tell you!



Ron et Jay avec du leau


Stephen avec vin.

It also ended at 1:30am. I got to bed at 3am. Only after finding a mouse in my luggage. He was gnawing on a maple cookie that fell in there from Canada. It is a whole other blog entry this mice thing. They are cute, but they don't help pay the rent so they must go.

Blissful day all around (save for Stuart Little dans ma sac.) Work tomorrow and back to vie au New York. Bien.

Ma Vie au Nord Hatley, Quebec

N. Hatley, QC

Hanging out avant diner

I live here now. Don't I? I live by a lake in French Canadia and I swim in it and go to different peoples' houses for dinner and walk in the village. That is what I do.

We had a lot of rain today and it was glorious sitting on the huge, old, sprawling porch looking at it come down over the lake.

Jan, Ashley and son Bodie on the porch swing. As life should be.

This evening we were invited over to Ashley's step-aunt, Val's house for dinner. She has a KNOCK OUT house looking out over the lake. It was great meal and seeing Val and Laur, the two sisters, just be together was worth the price of admission. I felt blessed to watch them as it made me feel the closeness I feel with my sibs when we are together.

Laur and Val with wee Bodie Man!

Val made us a wonderful meal and we dined on the enclosed porch looking out over the lake. The food was as stunning as the house and conversation and good times paled it all.

Manger avec vue du lac

I live here.