A perfect last day in June.

Yesterday I had a mess to clean up in the fridge. A jar of Indian hot sauce had somehow landed on its side and green oil had spilled into the bottom of the fridge and was dripping out the door. Then this morning I was trying to get something off the top shelf and accidentally knocked a jar of jam which landed on a beer bottle on the bottom shelf, which broke, and I had another mess to clean up. On top of that, I wasn’t wearing any shoes and had to run to put on sandals before I started the cleanup. Grrrr!

Yesterday I drove my brother to N. Hatley where we had a lovely walk around the town, exploring residential streets I had hitherto left unexplored. I bought him some ice cream and we sat and soaked up some of the riverside ambience before returning home. Here’s a picture for harri3tspy:

Today we walked to the university and through the golf course along the bike path and thence home, stopping at the Lion for refreshments. The weather was perfect. Little Princess is giving a tour at the observatory tonight, and they have great viewing.

I am concerned about something my brother told me regarding our other brother, the one who refuses to let bygones be bygones. Apparently when his daughters were teenagers, he took a parenting course, the kind that teaches you strategies so your kids don’t undermine your authority. He found that they were very useful in the classroom as well (he teaches high school) and even after he no longer needed it because his kids were out of that phase of their lives, he continued attending the workshops and now actually volunteers at the centre helping others learn these strategies.

My big brother says that this has become almost cult-like for him. In a recent telephone conversation, when big brother wanted to discuss something with little brother, the latter said, “I will be pleased to discuss this with you when I see you in person.” Big brother said, “Hey, this is me you’re talking to! You don’t have to go into this act.” But little brother stuck to his guns, or rather, his programme.

Freaky. Very freaky indeed.

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