Working on the Weekend

Servicing the citizens of my municipality calls to me but the sun beckons.

Awoke rather early, watched part of a movie, put parts of my house back in order, walked down commercial drive to get a coffee and a croissant filled with ham and cheese. Then I took the bus (it happened along or I would have kept walking) towards Trout Lake. Checked out a couple of yard sales along the way. Ah.. summer in the hood. They are everywhere. Mostly junky kids toys, but other things as well. Meandered up the street past a garden that had an inushtuk in the yard and past street corners with mosaics inlaid into the sidewalks. At the market I saw a winter hat that was perfect for me – but I was there for something else. I walked through the eddies of humans and strollers and dogs and paused at a shop selling things wherein I could see SO many people that I knew. If I had the cash I would have purchased 6 or 7 thoughtful gifts. Reggae was playing from the hot food cart along where the smell of baking and curry wafted. Stall after stall of fresh this and that – a retailed can be present unless the build, bake, make or grow it. Organic this and that. Cookbooks with samples – samples everywhere. A beautiful planter garden of succulents caught my eye. Lust for a window that would help them thrive. Up ahead the thing I had come for. The Qualicum cheese works. Here I come for fresh cheese curds still full of squeak. They convinced me to try blue cheese and I added it to my purse while refusing to accept their plastic bag. On the corner was the place that sells locally caught seafood. Walking past was hard. I remembered many the times that I had walked with friends and lovers to that stall to choose the evenings meal or weekend’s feasts. Wool and meat from lambs and sheep, raspberries seemingly in everyone hands. Dogs lapping from dedicated communal bowls and children with their faces painted. The sound of a string trio, playing under a huge umbrella as I admire huge ostrich feather dusters – over breasts I think to myself; and down the back, up and over the swell of buttocks… across the face… jars of honey. Who knew you could buy so many kinds of cherries! Hand crafted boxes beside wooden bookmarks. Salts and rubs that challenge me with their content. Strawberry flavoured? Chocolate and cinnamon? Try the nougat? Oh. No thank you. I don’t like the stuff. This is nothing like what BCers are accustomed to. OK… OH! Delicious. And so yet another stall of half a dozen that make me want to haul out my wallet for my own delight and with thoughts of others I know. Returning to where I started I stare at the many things I want to purchase for the many people I know. A single selection is made. It will fit into luggage and not weigh too much. Next door I am caught up in tiny spheres of glass. too long I spend and when I go to pay she looks at me and says: one dollar. I bink. I know it is going to a good home.

The journey continues and culminated in lighting the spark behind the eyes of a security guard with a long discarded passion. I did good work and hopefully the rekindling will provide enough warmth or grow or… whatever. My work there was done.

And now I turn to the real work of the day. Being in service to the citizens of my municipality on a sunny Saturday. It’s brighter in my office than in my home and cooler than outside. I have gay-torade and may go downstairs to add gin. I have my curds and blue cheese. I have green grapes and crackers with pumpkin seeds and oats. Streaming radio on my computer. Completing my orientation presentation for the new program I’ve ushered into being and will be managing is the priority. Perhaps I’ll even get around to reviewing files and allocating support to those who have come to me requesting support. Perhaps.

The only thing that might make this series of moments better, and the task ahead less daunting, would be a strengthening hug and a nibble on my neck.