Yes, I’m retro-posting. I’m actualling writing this on August 9, but I’m dating this entry July 31. I couldn’t stand the grammatically incorrect “1 musings” for July 2004 in the right-hand margin.
Many have commented on how this is turning out to be a dreary summer overall in the eastern half of North America. For me here in Nova Scotia, that has meant very few visits to the beach — only three, in fact. A part of me hasn’t minded too much, though, since I don’t feel like I’m missing out on much as I work my brains out.
A little while ago, noting how I haven’t been blogging much lately, BeeGoddess M asked me if I thought my blogging days were coming to an end. My answer was an immediate and categorical No. In fact, I thought of several blog topics in that past weeks but, by the time I would set aside my work, I’d be too exhausted to focus on reading other people’s blog, let alone wrapping my mind around what I might want to say. After a period of relative blog silence, Amy Gahran wrote a post on Contentious which I really liked and did much to abate any guilt I might have been harbouring about my lack of blogging. Indeed, as Amy tells us, “Blogging is supposed to be fun,” and to put everything into perspective, she closes with a comment that often crossed my mind: “In a hundred years, who’s really going to care?”
Halifax Pride was quite a success again this year. I didn’t participate in any activities except the parade, rationalizing that I’d done my bit for Pride by maintaining the website. This year we used the same template as last year, but I’m thinking that we should overhaul the look for 2005. The committee usually comes up with the year’s theme around February or March, so I might wait until then before I come up with the new template. Overall, though, I think my involvement this year went even more smoothly than it did last year. With experience, everyone involved gets to know the best way to deal with each other and keep the work manageable.
You know you live in Nova Scotia when you’re sitting at your computer and someone outside is practicising the bagpipes. That’s exactly what is happening as I’m writing this entry. You either love or hate bagpipes. I don’t really mind them myself, but the Queen of Sheba, for one, really hates them. However, as she put it, “Maybe if only they weren’t playing ‘Scotland the Great’ every time I encounter them…”
Several times in the last few weeks, I have thought about how this is the first summer that my dad isn’t here. They say the first year is like that, as you traverse milestones and anniversaries. I think of him several times each and every day, but what would have been his birthday — September 16 — will likely be a particularly reflective day. My mother is doing as well as we all thought she would: She has gone on a day trip to Nova Scotia with the Golden Age Club in June; she’s just come back (i.e., the first week of August) from a week with my sister in Ottawa; and, she’ll be going to P.E.I. (again with her seniors’ group) on August 17–18. When I commented that “Oh, you’ll actually be spending a night on the Island,” she casually replied, “I can do that now. Before I couldn’t.” Still, 5 months on, the reality of my father’s passing hasn’t quite caught up with us. But I, for one, remembering how many times he would say “C’est pas une vie!” (“This is no way to live!”), I keep telling myself things are better this way …at least for him. Mind you, I’m still haunted by a comment he made to my mother in the last month of his life, namely “Oubliez-moi pas…” (“Don’t forget me…”). I just hope there’s a way for him to know, wherever he is, that we have not and never will forget him. He wasn’t one to laugh very much even when he was healthful, but lately I’ve been hearing his laughter in my mind’s ear. I’m choosing to think that it’s him signalling that he’s doing just fine.