Sylvia's Journal

Today my father would have become 92 had he not died in 1985. His birthday is forever associated with eating the first cherries of the season (in Holland), like Ankie’s birthday on the 5th of June is forever associated with eating the first strawberries (also in Holland). I still miss him and wished he could see his granddaughters, all grown up in this world he would hardly recognize.

The alarm this morning dragged me into Monday morning from a far off place that was all about art and creativity. I got all tangled up in writing a sentence under a painting I had done. The painting itself I cannot remember; only that I could not type the word ‘social’ without maken a mistake, in spite of trying it over and over again. It was the kind of mistake that comes from being too fast, rather than from not knowing.

The art and painting dream was probably triggered by Axel’s first attempt at painting with oil. After a swim in Lobster Cove he set up his brandnew oil painting kit that Sita had given him for Father’s Day. Everyone was pleased with the result.

We were all very busy relaxing this weekend. Sunday started with a wonderful and meditative bike ride to Quaker Meeting which was silent for the whole hour except for one message about serendipitous encounters and bad things sometimes bringing unexpected good things along. This was hardly something we needed to be reminded of after last year’s summer. We know it is a universe sort of (universal?) thing. I was also reminded by one of the Friends who believes in such things, that it is Mercury Retrograde time again (so watch that car, bike, computer, plane from messing things up).

The severe weather predicted for the weekend stayed to the west of us, allowing plenty of time for swimming, reading and gardening. At the end of the day Joe, Axel and I celebrated our collective accomplishment of not doing much with a lobster and corn dinner.

Now that Tessa and Steve are here we have become puppy grandparents; so we are also first in line for dogsitting. Tessa and Steve left Chicha with us for a day and a night. Chicha was not happy about that at first. When she discovered that I could throw sticks really well, the sadness of seeing Tessa and Steve leave was quickly gone.

We discovered that she understands English quite well; when Axel got up and told us he was going to check on Sita’s two cats, the puppy immediately ran across the driveway to the door of the studio, waiting to have some fun. But Cortez and Mooshi don’t believe in fun with dogs, no matter how bored they are without Sita and Jim. Their displeasure about their parents’ absence is manifested in much cat poop outside the box and other signs of mischief. Axel comes in like a beloved grampie; he grumbles a bit and then talks and plays with them as if they are his best friends. They have bonded, unlike me; even though I grew up with cats, these two creatures are unintelligible to me; I bonded instantly with the dog.