Measuring a Year

In our year gone by, it has been a time of love, merriment and joy, all five hundred, twenty-five thousand, six hundred minutes of them”.

“Mark you wielder of the mighty quill sit by my side and take note of what I say and be warned if you make fake news you do so at the peril of your license (was this the marriage license he wondered?). Tell me, how do you measure, measure a year, this year gone by?” Said Lili.

“Surely it’s to remember this year in the lives of friends and family” replied Mark adding “and to celebrate.”

Thus satisfied LiLi subtlety suggested, “Mark proceed pronto with the season’s report”, and then disappeared on her bicycle heading back to work to deal with her reports.

And so with a big sigh Mark began to make a mark.

This was high on the list of big news. On the seventeenth day of the month of October pot became legal in the land of the North. People went berserk. Frenzied buying depleted supplies leaving unsatisfied folks drowning in hogsheads of October Beer. Now Holly smoke wafts through every village and dwelling in the land. This is not fake news we tell you, you can smell the stuff in the air we breathe. Authorities are struggling to regulate it’s use: pilots cannot fly high, drivers dare not take the high road and the highest courts in the land may never reach the supreme verdict with all the pot plants around. In all of this lies the hope of boosting artificial intelligence.

Now it came to pass that Lili and Mark (the royal we) sought the company of Paula, Lili’s mother who lives in the far off Land of South Africa, the land of sunshine, sea and hot coals for roasting a variety of fowl and beasts. It was Paula’s ninetieth birthday and a chance to celebrate and celebrate we did. Lili’s brother Ralph and family are close by and great to catch-up with them. It was here that old friends and family gathered at the Blue Peter restaurant with a view over the bay towards Cape Town and it’s Table Mountain. Celebrations continued with dear friends and family from near and far: Jacqui (Lili’s cousin), Ingrid & Guido, Mike (our best man) & Karin, Michelle (our bridesmaid) & Antoine, Jill &Don, Rob & Karen, Margie & Glen and Sandra & Jonnie.

Our clan members took their own journeys to far off places. Lauren and Matt paddled the high Hood river in the true, true north of this land and jumped into the arctic sound at journey’s end. Meg and Greg who live in Brisbane toured Tasmania on both two and four wheels. The Devils were a no show. They would have left the Devils in the dust had they had to. Our weekly Skype with Meg & Greg keeps us in touch. Bronwen braved the icy hills of Northern Alberta for both work and in snippets of vacation with friends.

Visitors came upon us. Ute who lives in Germany came to visit her expat friend living in Parry Sound and then spent time with us. Theresa, who lives with her family in Vancouver popped in for 24 hours of precious catch-up,

A long weekend in August presented the chance to visit Judy (my sister) and Flemming at their home in the Adirondacks. Lauren and Matt joined us. They want to hike all the peaks around there. It was here that Lauren and Matt told us of an expectant matter, that Lauren is a mother to be. Lili jumped up rocking the boat with a screech of joy that brought the lake’s inquisitive loons to the surface. A celebration indeed. How Grand we all felt!

Another celebration in October (what a month) for a friend’s birthday led to our attempt to look like those characters (Danny and Sandy) from the movie Grease I boiled under the wig, couldn’t see through the dark glasses and the leather jacket didn’t help. Lili did a grand job of looking like Sandy and the Pink Ladies.

We celebrate every day our dog gets up. He has been our companion for 16 years. I sing to Zumba in the morning and perhaps this explains the utter confusion on his face as if to say “if you think I am coming walking with you, forget it Buster”. He’s deaf, blind in one eye but not dumb. Some mojo is still in him. When he finds his toy, Blue Boy, he sings back to us by howling like there’s no tomorrow.

For the sake of old times we wish you a Merry Christmas and a joyful New Year, with many hogsheads of beer and for goodness sake find that mistletoe.