Four hundred and eighty-eight

Oops!  My excuse for the missed Wednesday blog…

The herb salad is made and waiting on the counter to add the white wine tarragon vinegar, oil and lemon dressing.  The water for the corn and yellow beans are ready on the stove.  LP is making the turkey burgers.  The smell of the barbecue and mint from the salad hang in the air.  The beer is cold, the wine is open, the berries are washed and ready for dessert.  It’s day three of my four-day mini-break to LP’s mom and partner’s gorgeous house in the forest of Montebello, Quebec.

My old friend Meg drives up to the house, arriving from Gatineau, to have dinner with us.  It’s been at least a year since I’ve seen her – although she has been a great supporter of the blog.  After our hugs and hellos and general catch-ups, she says to me: “You didn’t blog yesterday”.

“Well I only blog on Wednesdays now,” I say nonchalantly, and then it hits me – it’s Thursday.  I didn’t blog yesterday!  Oh no!  I promised every Wednesday and now I have broken my promise.  I even spent Tuesday on the train to Montreal writing.  It didn’t even occur to me that it was “blog day” the following day.  I was so excited about seeing LP (who is still working in Montreal), going to Montebello, trying to listen to what the lady beside me was saying when she was talking to herself in what sounded like spoken shorthand, and getting on a roll with writing, that I forgot to blog altogether!

I guess I don’t really have an excuse.  Sometimes my excitement for new things takes over and I forget the routine.  I’ve never been much for routine.  It’s the reason I have a calendar and write everything down.  My calendar fails me, though, when it’s pinned to the bulletin board in my bedroom and not on the train to Montreal with me.

Thursday night, as we ate our dinner on the upstairs balcony overlooking the Ottawa River Valley with the sun setting, I couldn’t seem to get too upset that I missed a Wednesday of blogging.  Sometimes a trip to a beautiful house in a beautiful environment away from the city is just the thing to refresh a weary mind and body.

I turned to Meg and LP and sighed.  “One day I’ll own a house like this, where I can spend my mornings with coffee reading the paper, afternoons writing and going for walks, and evenings cooking, then curled up by the fire reading.  One day – hopefully sooner than later!”

2 thoughts on “Four hundred and eighty-eight

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