Woke up this morning to face the aftermath of Hurricane Irene.
The power must have gone out at some point last night, because we were awakened to the most annoying beep of the travel alarm Stephen insisted we set in case the power went out.
That man has foresight.
Luckily, thankfully, we were spared any major damage.
Branches scattering our front yard, Frankie's pool in a position I didn't even know it could hold, on-the-deck plants waterlogged.
We got off lightly, that's for sure.
The winds are still strong, but mercifully, the rain has ended and the sun has even managed to peek through the thick, grey clouds a couple of times.
Cool temps. . .feels like fall.
Reilly and Goblet were joyous at our return.
Momentarily.
Cats are fickle, vindictive creatures, and our two furry felines are not immune to rapid mood changes that would made bi-polar people sit up in amazement.
At first, they were recalcitrant. . .turning their heads away from our proffered affections, our delirium in having them back in our arms again, their fur against our cheeks.
They moved to a reluctant happiness at our return, spending most of the evening following us around, bumping up against us, weaving in and our of legs as we stood doing mundane tasks like dishes, laundry, etc.
Goblet was on Stephen faster than the speed of light when he finally came to bed.
She had a week's worth of suckling to catch up on after all.
And so far today, when we've been home, she's been following us from room to room, meowing repeatedly, as if to remind us that she was familyless for an entire week and we. owe. her.
Remember, this is the Goblet who typically sleeps from morning to evening, rarely opens her mouth for anything more than eating, and for whom following us around constitutes more exercise than she ever willingly engages in.
Reilley. . .he is an entirely different creature.
Em carted him all over yesterday, barely letting him out of her arms for longer than it took to use the bathroom.
Last evening, when we had our typical pre-bedtime girl talk, he glowered at us from atop Stephen's bureau.
He's angry with me, Em remarked.
Oh, I know, I replied.
And is he angry.
He has screamed at us since our return.
Refuses to follow Em anywhere, hence the being carted around.
This morning, he demanded his week's worth of coffee cream missed while we were away.
He received his typical just-covering-the-very-bottom-of-a-ramekin and was either going to be satisfied with that, or go without for another morning.
Hopefully by the end of the week they'll be back to normal.
Too much exercise for Goblet could cause her to actually lose a couple of pounds and Reilley could end up with laryngitis.
Our post-vacation Monday marked the beginning of dealing with all those things I didn't want to return home to deal with.
At the top of the list: our Ford Focus.
Sitting at Riverview Ford since Friday, August 19th.
Awaiting the required part since Tuesday, August 16th when we were informed that we needed said part.
Some sort of bearing in the wheel, but not a wheel bearing.
Whatever that means.
Sitting in front of the parts manager, who looked too tired to battle a refreshed and tanned me, I laid out for him my take of this situation.
And then provided him with three options, all valid from my perspective.
1. Pay for our vacation rental.
2. Fix our car for no charge.
3. Depending on how long it will take to repair our car, pay for a rental until it's fixed.
Option 1 and 2 were the favoured options until Stephen called them this morning, before we left, to find out the status of our little car.
When he informed me that it was still not repaired, still not safe to drive, I added number three to the list.
And just after I finished my lunch of salad, cottage cheese and the smallest egg salad sandwich you could imagine, we received a phone call informing us that we could pick up our rental this afternoon between 3.30-4.00.
All because the $62.00 part required to get our car back on the road isn't available in ANY Ford dealership across North America.
If it wasn't my car, I could almost be surprised by this.
It has been our year for rentals.
First, the Fiesta, which we had for a month while we awaited repair of the Focus, following the accident caused by the dimwit who thought she could drive on ice quickly to get in front of the approaching school bus, which resulted in our back end stopping her.
Second, the Ford Escape, an emergency rental if we were to get to Murray Corner.
And we were getting to Murray Corner, believe me.
Third, today's pick up.
Which will have to be bigger than the Fiesta as we do have to transport three young adults.
Possibly the dogs.
Technically, you're not supposed to put dogs in a rental.
Not unless you want to pay the additional $100.00 cleaning charge to get rid of the hair.
We had no choice but to transport our capricious canines in the Escape, as driving with them in the Elantra was just a hazard.
Consequently, last evening while the kids cleaned up the supper dishes, I was outside with our 1984 Electrolux vacuum, in the middle of a hurricane, vacuuming every last dog hair from the inside of that Escape.
It was actually cleaner when we returned it than it was when we picked it up.
Vacuuming during a hurricane?
Not on my list of top ten things to do in my lifetime.
But rather that than fork over $100.00 I don't have to have them vacuum it out.
Frugality has it's moments.
Frugal, however, was not the word of the day during our first visit to the local craft shop located in downtown Murray Corner.
Downtown consisting of the craft shop on one side of the road and Lake's Convenience Store on the other, and a United Church beside Lake's.
The craft shop was located in a building erected in 1939.
Initially, it served as the United Church hall for the longest time, until the church renovated the Church basement and turned it into their hall when the old hall needed new plumbing the church couldn't afford.
Apparently, renovating the basement was cheaper than fixing the plumbing.
Now, it serves as a local craft shop and houses the Saturday morning market.
Inside, the building was infused with the scent of Christmas, emanating from the candles lit to entice shoppers to begin their Christmas shopping early.
In fact, at the back of the shop, on what would have been a stage during the building's church hall days, there is a festive and expansive Christmas display.
Stephen inquired about the display, as Christmas was still a few months away.
The shopkeeper, a volunteer as all the shopkeepers were, informed us that the shop is only open two months of the year, so they have to sell Christmas wares.
Made perfect sense to us.
In addition to the Christmas decorations, there were all varieties of homemade crafts.
Baby, children and adult handknit sweaters, along with those knitted slippers your grandmother made, the ones with the two colors that wore out by February if you actually remembered to wear them.
Knitted dishclothes, scarves, hats, mittens, baby blankets, hand stitched quilts, painted milk bottles and bouyes, ceramic canister sets, hand stitched table clothes, table runners, place mats' sea glass jewelery: earrings, necklaces, rings; pottery mugs and vases; stained glass figures, including hummingbirds, lighthouses, hearts, cherries, flowers; tole painted signs, wreaths, and tables, and so many other things I can't even remember.
In fact, we purchased a tole painted corner table for $45.00.
I couldn't believe the price!
Painted black with gorgeous white flowers with green accents on top.
Stephen informed me that under no circumstances would there be any plants sitting on top of that table.
But it does have a bottom shelf.
And I'll post a pic if I ever get my camera back.
It wasn't just the stuff in the store that was so appealing.
The ambiance was inviting. . .like being inside was an invitation to slow down, relax, take the time to look at what was available, talk with the volunteer shopkeeper, who knew the history of the building and all sorts of other quirky things.
We also purchased a stained glass rendering of the Cape Jourimaine lighthouse, a tole painted flower wreath for my mother and a hanging chime made from old silverware.
Had it not been for the fact that we needed gas to get around and that we had spent the previous day in Charlotteown, I would have purchased a lot more.
My goal for next summers' visit, a hand stitched quilt.
At $400.00 or more, I'll have to start saving now.
Murray Corner is the perfect spot.
Out in the middle of nowhere, yet close to everything.
PEI was literally twenty minutes away from the cottage.
Nova Scotia, a 45 minute drive.
Same with Moncton.
And Cape Jourimaine, http://www.capejourimain.ca/ off the last exit before the Confederation Bridge was a place Stephen was desperate to explore while were away.
Thursday afternoon, after walking the dogs on the beach all morning to ensure they would be tired and happy to rest, we hopped into the car and drove to Cape Jourimaine.
At the Welcome Center we perused more local crafts and took advantage of their bathrooms.
Well, almost all of us took advantage of their bathrooms.
Cape Jourimaine is all about eco responsibility, sustainability, renewable energy.
And this ethos extends to the bathrooms.
Composting toilets.
In each bathroom, a large diagram explains how the composting toilets work, without using any water.
Sort of like using a state of the art outhouse.
I was thrilled!
Em couldn't squeeze out a drop.
To wash your hands, a rainwater collection system was used.
Thus encouraging you to use the water sparingly.
I could have just stayed inside the toilets, they were so fascinating, yet there were so many other things to see.
As the tide was out, we were able to beach walk for incredible distances, including a promenade underneath the Confederation Bridge.
In fact, I wanted to walk out to the second pillar under the bridge, but I couldn't judge the depth of the water, so I opted to just look at it from as close as I could get.
But still. . .to walk underneath the bridge was pretty exciting.
Afterwards walking the ocean floor, watching hermit crab smackdown as two fought over a shell, we walked back to the buildings and climbed to the observation platform, to see as far as we could see.
But we still hadn't walked the trail to the lighthouse, which is what lay at the heart of Stephen's desire to visit Cape Jourimaine.
While Keith and Em remained inside the building to explore the displays, Stephen and I headed out on the lighthouse trail.
Outside of the building was a mosquito index warning.
Set to high.
With good reason.
As wonderful as the lighthouse was, I have to wonder if it was worth the infestation of mosquitoes that hovered around Stephen like bees to pollen during our hike.
He could have been carried away by them, there were that many.
Determined to see the lighthouse, perhaps get inside he forged onward, slapping himself in a bizarre parody of lone S&M.
His efforts were rewarded when we arrived at the site of the lighthouse.
However, he was unable to get inside.
And for good reason.
While efforts are underway to repair the lighthouse, presently, it serves as one giant wasps' nest.
Inside the rotting roof above the door were hundred of wasps buzzing angrily at our intrusion into their safe space.
At the top of the lighthouse I counted at least 20 massive wasps' nests housing even more pissed off wasps.
So while Stephen walked around the lighthouse, I stayed right where I was.
But at least he got to see it.
No one was stung.
And after seeing those wasps, the mosquitoes didn't seem so bad.
Title Lyric: My Lighthouse by Pulp
