I’m not moving, just splitting my attention.

A decision has been made with regard to the problems some of my diary friends have in leaving me notes and comments. As a result, I have decided that I will continue to post here, but I will also double post at my Wordpress site. I know there are problems with Diaryland, but I figure I will keep using it at least until my super gold membership expires.

There was a barbecue this evening behind the campus dining hall to honour retirees in the humanities. Sadly, they had run out of the vegetarian alternative when I got there, so I filled up on salads and dessert instead. I also had a vodka and orange juice to start (on an empty stomach), so I was feeling a little giddy until I added some food to sop it up. There were four honourees, an Italian professor whom I had never actually laid eyes on before tonight since he lives in Montreal and commutes to campus three days a week, but with whom I had had a telephone conversation 18 years ago when I needed a translation of a Giulianni song for a programme, the English professor who was hit by a snow plow several winters ago and subsequently wears one shoe with a very thick sole to compensate for the fact that one leg will forever be shorter than the other, another English professor who is a regular squash/tennis partner of my husband’s (and his wife who worked in the writing centre), and an art historian who was on permanent half-time, spending six months in France with her husband and six months in Canada (and who will continue to do so since she has a landed-immigrant status situation which sounds very complicated).

Earlier today I went to Costco and spent an inordinate sum of money on stuff, including a set of stainless steel canisters to replace the painted aluminum ones my mother bought me when I was still living at home. I also got an ass-load of sunflower seeds for the birdfeeder and a bunch of red impatiens for the flower box underneath the mountain ash, which Buddy Boy did a great job cleaning out today.

Therein lies a tale. A couple of days ago, before all that rain, he weeded the box wherein I had planted the three potentilla bushes last year (pink, white and yellow) and had used the hand cultivator tool to loosen up the soil, then covered it with red cedar bark. It looks quite lovely. However, he misplaced the cultivator. Gone. Poof! He could have used it today for this job and with a flash of insight, I asked him if he had been throwing the weeks into the wheelbarrow and where he had dumped them. He assured me that he hadn’t thrown the cultivator out with the weeds, but I know my boy. So I found the heap of grass, dandelions and other assorted uprooted vegetation, with poor uprooted worms wandering around wondering what happened to all the dirt, moved several clumps aside and lo! there was the cultivator. My, oh my, wasn’t Buddy Boy surprised. Tsk, tsk.

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