Whale of a Weekend

Still catching up on sleep after an action-packed weekend. Should be refreshed just in time to experience the aftermath of tomorrow's chemo. Oh joy.

Thrills started on Thurs evening with the arrival of my friend Trudy who is currently residing in Sweden. We got together for the first time on Fri when we took Mom to the fish truck in Davis Bay for lunch. As we were waiting for our order to be prepared, someone noticed two grey whales cavorting just off shore. At first everyone thought they must have beached, but we soon realized they were simply enjoying a good lunch of their own. It appeared to be an older whale and a calf. When they were first spotted, they were rolling around the water, frequently bringing their massive heads above the surface. Later, they swam the length of the beach, gently gliding along with the occasional blast from their blowholes. We must have watched them for the better part of an hour. When we were ready to leave, I couldn't get the Grape into the lane heading home due to the heavy traffic - I had to drive to the Canadian Tire in Wilson Creek before I could turn around. Seemed everyone and his/her dog was coming out to see the whales. There wasn't a parking space to be had - not even an illegal one - anywhere along the Davis Bay beach front. Traffic was backed up in both directions. The fish truck operator joked as we were leaving that he would have to increase his prices to take the "entertainment" factor into account.

On Saturday, we all headed to the farmers' market. Saeko came up from Richmond to join us for the rest of the weekend, so she came along, too. In addition to the usual market attractions, Trudy, Saeko and I enjoyed a visit to the local museum where a group of people were learning how to weave cedar hats. Very interesting. On Sunday we took in a concert at Willow Tree Farm. Musicians included Wendy Humphreys on harp, followed by a performance by Eileen McCann and David G. Aside from a few brief sprinkles, the weather was perfect. Mom, Marcia, Penny and Jon also came to the concert, so it was a fun time for all. Of course, we all gathered at the farm on Sat and Sun evening for group feasting. All in all a fun time.

Pea Sandwich

Gentle readers, and all other interested parties: Just a note to let you know that I am continuing on the current chemo regime for the foreseeable future. Some of you asked if the positive CT scan results meant that it was no longer needed. Yes, it is still very much needed. I will attended St Mary's ACU every week for the same two meds as I have been taking since April. The amount of drug has been reduced not due to the CT scan results but rather a reduction in my weight (woohoo!) since starting treatment and the reduction in my white blood cell count which is a side effect of any chemo treatment. How long will I be on said drugs? The short answer: it depends. Long answer: until the drugs no longer work (there is visible evidence the cancer is growing), or until I develop a resistance or an allergy/other dangerous side effect to them. Right now, my main issue is fatigue. Yes, I have great spurts of energy, but I'm also entering another phase marked by regular bouts of fatigue - when I'm tired, I can do nothing but sleep (especially on Wed after chemo and on Thurs). Fingers continue to cramp at the oddest of times, but no recent issues re my feet (i.e. no more gout) other than the occasional bit of tingling or mild cramp in the arch. The most annoying side effect, however, is the recurring aching in my right forearm. This is the area that has been subjected to the most needles, both for blood tests and for IVs during various surgeries and when the port-a-cath failed to co-operate. Sometimes the aching is very mild, other times very deep. Sometimes it is confined to the thick part of the forearm near the elbow, other times it extends from finger tips to elbow tip, and occasionally continues up to the shoulder. I strongly suspect some degree of tennis elbow/carpel tunnel is also at play. Whatever, last night the arching was enough to wake me at 3am. Tylenol doesn't cut it for that type of pain (I have few alternatives due to the chemo drugs), so the ice plan cameth. Cometh? Came? Despite the fact that my first aid training ended as abruptly as my Girl Guide career, I seem to recall that cold helps reduce inflammation. And so it was that my relief solution reconnoitering brought me face-to-face with a freezer completely void of any form of ice-like substance. Somehow the tuna loin recently purchased at the Sechelt Farmers' Market didn't look quite up to the task at hand/arm. Nor did the lobster, the last edible vestige of my pilgrimage to the lands of the east. Ice cream presented an interesting possibility, but since I have long known of my inability to easily lick either elbow, that, too, seemed a less-than appropriate solution. Then it dawned on me; peas! Yes, the very same vegetable that put a certain Vancouver waiter and I in a rather awkward situation when I had my original biopsy two years ago. The very tiny green round morsels of succulent sweetness that send shivers down the brain stems of some (Jo? John?) while exciting the taste buds of others. A pea sandwich was just what I needed! With the aid of a towel, I placed my arm between two frozen slabs of green peas. The towel acted as a drip barrier lest someone (Mother?) think I wet the bed. It also served to keep the icy blocks positioned where I needed them the most. My long-sleeved T-shirt cum pj top served as a barrier between the peas and my bare arm. No desire for freezer burn if I happened to fall asleep mid-treatment. Worked like a charm, albeit not the most comfortable one. In any case, I awoke in the a of m with a much relieved forearm - and two fewer packs of peas in the freezer.

About the concept of a REAL pea sandwich. Some foreign menus, in an effort to provide English descriptions for the convenience of out-of-town guests, create more interesting meals in the minds of some than what might otherwise be presented on the plate. Witness some of the concoctions listed in the book "Lost in Translation" by Charlie Croker (thanks to Deidre for the hours of entertainment this has provided):

Half a lawyer with prawns (Switzerland)
Pee soup (Beijing)
Goulash two cats (Marianske Lazne, Czech Republic)
Depressed soup (Russia)

Ham sand witches (India)
Homelettes (Greece)
Stewed language in assorted prinkles (Spain)
Charcoal grilled chicken wings or fried in garlic source (London)
Crap meat omelet (Thailand)
Eggs with Beacons (Costa Rica)
Bowels with organ blight (Greece)
Bored meat stew (Slovenia)
Chicken tikka masala with free rice or nun (UK)
Corrugated iron beef (Beijing)
Bowels stuffed in spleen (Piraeus)
Lame kebab (Iran)
Instantaneous steak ('minute steak' on a 1960s menu in Mozambique)
Roast mammary glad of sheep (Bulgaria)
Mixed grill with lamb cubs (London)

Rumba! Rumba! Rumba!

Time for me to pay closer attention to those "how-to" videos on YouTube, the ones where professional instructors go over the steps of various dance routines. As I said in my previous post, I may have reason to learn the rumba - AND I DO!!!

At long last I have received the result of last week's CT scan. Maybe I should have titled this post "The Cat Came Back". Hmmm. Anyhoo, that I received the news today was something of a surprise. You see, after attending Mom's condo AGM last night, I arrived home to find a message from Dr Wadge on my answering service. Part of the message was cut off (incoming call?) so I only heard "improved ... so that's good news". Anxious to learn the rest of the info, I tried to contact Dr Wadge today when I went to the hospital for my weekly pre-chemo blood work/weigh-in. She was unavailable, but passed the message along that the news was indeed good and she would explain further when she next saw me - which I took to be tomorrow during my weekly chemo treatment. Sooooo, imagine my surprise when, later in the day, I had an appointment with my GP (Dr J) re the ongoing issue of eczema in my ears and was given a copy of the very report Dr Wadge was talking about.

Like Dr Wadge, Dr J had received the CT scan results last night but since he wasn't in his office he didn't have access to my phone number so couldn't call. He said he was pleased to learn upon arriving at the office today that I had an appointment for this afternoon, so he could deliver the report results in person. He couldn't stop smiling while telling me this, so I knew it was good news. But I had no idea just how good the results were until he handed me a copy of the report.

This report compared the CT scan taken on March 1 (the date when in hospital I was told the cancer had spread to my lungs and spleen) with the one taken last Monday. Here is the short version of the results of that "study":

The study suggests significant improvement in terms of the pulmonary and presumed splenic metastases. In each case the number of metastatic sites appears to have diminished with the remaining metastatic sites smaller than on the previous examination. There are no new findings to suggest extension of the disease. In other words, there are fewer cancer sites on both lungs and on the spleen compared to the March 1 CT scan! The remaining sites have shrunk, and there is no evidence that the cancer has spread into my liver, kidneys, or anywhere else.

Funny that it seemed easier to take in the news that I had cancer in the first place than to learn that it is showing signs of being driven out of my body. I am still trying to grasp the fact that the news is so very good. No doubt this is the sort of thing cancer specialists see/hear every day, but for me it is nothing short of a miracle. Yes, the chemo worked, and worked well. More over, so did the tremendous power of all those prayers, healing energies, and good wishes sent by so many near and far. My medical team rocks! My family and friends are the best in the world! My God, but I have been so very, very blessed.

An interesting aside: The closing blessing at Sunday's church service was made in honour of National Aboriginal Day. The wording of the blessing (sorry, I don't know the original source) is remarkably close to the prayer/blessing that Alice read when presenting me with the family prayer quilt a couple of weeks back. The beginning is also similar to the hymn I mentioned a few postings back, the one that I expect everyone to sing at my funeral as they gyrate to the accompanying actions. This journey I'm on seems to be very much about love, about finding the links between my physical, mental, and spiritual self. Sunday's blessing underscored a lot of that, in my mind at least.

God is before us.
God is behind us.
God is above us.
God is below us.
God's words shall come from our mouths
For we are all God's essence, a sign of God's love.
All is finished in beauty.
All is finished in beauty.
May the Creator watch over you.
May the Spirit guide and lead you.
May Jesus be present in all that you do.
And the blessing of God Almighty,
the Father, the Son and the Holy Spirit be with you,
within you and surrounding you and those you love,
this day and always.

Happy solstice!

Despite the fact that the Sunshine Coast will fail to live up to its name this summer solstice, there remain some very sunny spots in my little life. Family, friends, and the garden. Increasingly find therapy in tending the plants, especially in this year of climate-related challenges. Nothing cures a bad mood as well as ripping weeds out by their roots, nor calms the mind like coaxing a sick plant back to health. Although the veggies are struggling, the flowers are putting on a bit of a show - some anyway. Thought I'd share some of the colour as a way to send you all warm greetings on this longest day of the year (and a happy birthday wish to Jill, and enjoyable bbq wishes to Dave, Stephanie, George and Merrily - sorry I can't join you due to prior commitments).

Forgot to mention that a robin has, once again, taken up residence in the camellia bush next to my front door. I can easily see the nest as I come and go. Thankfully, the crows haven't been successful in their attempts to also get a closer look. A rare treat to be able to watch the wee ones at such close range. Hope the neighbourhood cats don't get wind of the nest's whereabouts.

Missing cat

Okay, so the cat isn't really missing. In fact, I don't own a feline, wayward or otherwise. I did, however, think the title of this entry much more interesting than, say, "Gosh but I wish I had some word re that CT scan I had last week". One might think that, since the CT scan was performed at St. Mary's, the location of my chemo injections, there would be speedy delivery of the test results. I have learned over the past couple of years that nothing moves quickly in the medical system. Each process entails many steps, several of which go undetected by the average patient. I tend to compare the complicated manoeuvers of the medical system to a deftly performed rumba when compared to my less-than-stellar rendition of the funky chicken. The former requires so much more than exact steps executed on specific beats of the accompanying music. Hands, hips, and even the head of the professional dancer gyrate with a dexterity not found anywhere in the unco-ordinated flaying of my assorted elbows and knees. The complex movements of the rumba routine are smoothly and seamlessly carried out - miss a step, and the whole becomes akin to Evander Holyfield's effort rather than the steamy show put on by professional Derek Hough (or his sister Julianne). In the case of my wayward medical test results, once the scan was performed, the results had to be read by the radiologist. That report was then sent to be transcribed into a written form that was passed on to the person (Dr Wadge - the internist overseeing my chemo, Dr Sun - the oncologist at BC Cancer Agency, Dr J - my Sechelt GP, Dr Zapf-Giljie - my Vancouver GP or whoever) deemed most appropriate to give me the results. There are likely other factors unknown/unseen by me or others in the queue. The upshot is that results weren't in anyone's hands by the time I had chemo last Wed. With luck, I will have them by this Wed's treatment. In the meantime, I'm willing to wallow in the theory that no news is good news. If that is the case, please understand if I spontaneously break into a full-on rumba. If good news isn't on offer, I'll likely still have time to add some finesse to my unique version of the funky chicken. Either way, I'll post the results as soon as I have them. Promise.

Comfy Cozy

Headaches continue to plague me as does fatigue. Sleep patterns somewhat out of whack. Bizarre fluctuations in barometric pressure may be part of the issue. Or it's just another part of the never-a-dull-moment chemo cycle. No matter. Should I require a nap or two or six, I can always snuggle down with a cozy blanket. I have been the recipient of two amazing blankies in the last couple of weeks (I had hoped to post pictures earlier, but couldn't seem to get my camera to work. Still not overly pleased with the lighting, but after adjusting a couple of settings the camera seems to be working once more. Apologies to the artisans for the poor image quality). They were made with an unbelievable amount of love and care, and I can feel the healing energy of the makers through each and every thread.

The first blanket traveled all the way from New Brunswick. I'm not certain who started the quilt (Alice?) but it contains a lot of symbolism that is very close to my heart. For example, the three fabrics represent the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit. The "ladder" motif is the stairway to Heaven. On the reverse side, the Holy Spirit fabric (the dragonflies) form a cross to remind me of God's constant love. When Alice and Louise presented me with the quilt, I was told there is a prayer/poem that goes along with it as this is very much a prayer quilt. Interestingly, while I don't remember the exact words of the prayer, I do remember that it is almost identical to a hymn that means a great deal to me (one that I want sung at my funeral with everyone in attendance doing the actions - really). It goes something like this: "Love before me, love behind me, love under my feet. Love within me, love over me. All around let there be love." To underscore the love aspect of the quilt, each of those little blue knots was tied by a different member of my extended family - may doing their tying at a dinner gathering while I sat unaware of the goings-on in the adjacent room! The knots on the border of the quilt were, however, reserved for my mother so I will always know that I'm surrounded by my mother's boundless love. How cool is that?!? To Alice, Louise, Bruce, Susan, Mary, Melissa, Jacqualine, Phil, Ellen, Ritchie, Cindy, Rielly, Mom and everyone else involved a heartfelt thank you. I love you all very, very much. What a treasure. A definite heirloom. Here's a photo of the quilt:

A couple of days after the quilt presentation, I attended the Sunshine Coast Weavers and Spinners Guild's June meeting. In addition to the usual potluck (swear fibre folks are the best cooks) we had our annual "exchange". This year's project was some sort of hand-warming apparel. Some members made gloves, others wrist-warmers. Mine was a gorgeous pair of mittens and a matching hat crafted by Marjorie Ann Malcolm. The super-soft gold/green/beige yarn was hand-spun and then knit in a spiral pattern. I'd be happy to show a photo, but all the items were whisked away as they were opened - will be part of a guild display during the Gibsons Fibre Fest in August. What I can offer is a photo of the mittens I made for one Deanna Pilling. Here are the mitts I knitted from yarn I dyed some years back:

It was extremely interesting that Deanna should have been the recipient of my mittens because during the "show and tell" portion of the meeting, she stood up to talk about her latest blanket project and then handed me the blanket! Deanna has started a blanket weaving business with input from a couple of other guild members. Most work is inspired by the sea, forest, and other aspects of the local environment. My blanket, however, is "inspired by the women we know who are fighting the good fight", as Deanna said during her presentation. You could have knocked me over with a feather when she made the presentation! I had no idea the blanket was for me. And what a delight it is. My apologies if I have the info wrong - I was so taken aback by the generous gift that I started crying and could only concentrate on keeping my nose from running! If I do have the facts right, Ann Harmer used mushrooms to dye the wool a soft mauve-pink. Yvonne Stowell spun the 100% Sunshine Coast wool, and then Deanna wove it into a cozy twill blanket. The design is called "Group Hug", and I feel that loving comfort every time I touch it! Many, many thanks to all of you for the wonderful gift!

To say that I am blessed is an understatement. I have no idea what I have done to deserve such outpourings of love and support. I am truly overwhelmed, humbled, and most grateful. And I love you all very, very much.

Sleepy days again

Guess I'm hitting a "new normal". Despite continued bouts of good energy, I have long periods of fatigue once more. Likely this is the way things will be for some time. Either that, or I'm playing too much. Suffice it to say that I feel very much myself, but then again not quite. Kinda like this:

Yes, the hair really is mine. Remnants of what fell out two years ago during original chemo treatments. The eyelashes, however, were purchased at the local drug store. The rest? Cobbled together from eight different photos of moi. And while I have lost about 25+ lbs since Christmas, I cannot claim to be that skinny.

Scanned by a cat

Yesterday I had the much-anticipated CT scan. A somewhat uneventful event although I did feel a tad odd just before getting onto the scanning table - not faint, not ill, but not quite "normal". I told someone that it felt like I imagine I would as an out-of-body experience was getting underway. Not that I've ever had an out-of-body experience. Did feel like I was both in and out of my body at the same time. I blame rogue ions that might have been floating about the room (my conspiracy theory). That or the fact that I hadn't eaten for the better part of 12 hours and was wallowing in the wake of several glasses of water. I swear you could hear the sea sloshing around in my tummy! The water was to aid the flow of iodine which was injected just before the scan. This provided the necessary "contrast" for the x-ray. The injection caused a slight warming feeling to flow through my body. The tech warned me that some patients are certain they've urinated all over the machine but assured me it would only be the effect of the injection. I felt no such sensation, likely because I had the foresight to visit the powder room prior to showing up for the exam. The exam itself was pleasant enough, especially once the warming effect set in. A comforting mechanical voice instructed me how and when to breath: "Breath in. Hold your breath. Breath." I also noted that the exterior of the machine had friendly little images of a cartoon-like face that mimed the mechanical voice's instructions. When I was able to breath, an picture that looked like a cross between Pac-Man and Calvin (of Calvin and Hobbes fame) would light up. When I was to hold my breath, a picture of the same face but with closed mouth and puffy cheeks lit up. All in all, a very quick and not unpleasant procedure. My doctor should receive the results by week's end. I'll post the outcome once I hear how things went.

Note to self

Must remember to be careful what I eat. Had curry for lunch and venison sausage for dinner. Too much heavy, rich food. Sick during the night. Recovery included sleeping 'til noon. That'll learn me.

Georgia Nichols is one scary lady

It's been an amazing week getting back into the swing of West Coast living. Weather continues to challenge my gardening efforts. I'm also trying to get back in the groove of the local time zone after the trip east. My energy level continues to be good, better than good.

I remember telling someone the other day that I feel better now than I have in the past three years. Dr Wadge, the amazing internist who is overseeing my chemo treatments, seems to concur in that neither of us can feel any of my lymph nodes nor my spleen (which a month ago was much enlarged). While I will have to wait for the results of the CT scan I will have done this coming Monday, it might well be said that I have turned a very big corner re my health. The chemo appears to be working. More than that, all the positive energy and heartfelt prayers said on my behalf are being answered. Words can not express my gratitude. There is so much more I want to do in this life, so I'm grateful for whatever extra time I am given.

As luck would have it, plans are currently afoot for me to join friends on a quick trip to New York in August. The hope is that all four of us will be able to go as we are so scattered geographically at present (me on the Sunshine Coast, Yuri in Toronto, Donna and Karen in Vancouver when not visiting family elsewhere). So imagine my surprise when I glanced at Georgia Nicols' prediction for this week:

Pisces (Feb. 19-March 20)

This is without question, a time of surprises and sudden opportunities for you! One of the things going on right now is your unusually strong drive for personal freedom. ("I gotta be me!") You want to be young and free! Unexpected opportunities to travel, or explore opportunities in higher education, publishing, the media, medicine, and the law might drop in your lap. You also have a strong sense of justice right now, and are willing to work to right a wrong. Something is going to happen to totally broaden your scope of existence, or point of view about life, or your relationship with the social radius of people around you on a regular basis. Your life is going to get a surge of exciting growth! The result will be a greater sophistication and understanding of your world. (My, my.)

*****

About the justice part: I just wrong a letter to the New Brunswick health department re that nasty dining experience at the Evandale Resort.

Yes, I am a follower of the Christian faith. I find much comfort in the words, music and rituals of the familiar. That said, I do read my horror-scope from time to time and have two tarot decks at home. No, I don't think I'm dabbling in the occult. Rather, I look to more than one source for interpretations of the world around me. Just as I like to sample a wide range of music or foods, it seems to me that different faith perspectives all have something to offer. I pick and choose what has meaning for me, although admittedly I continue to view the world through Christian-based glasses. I doubt anyone has all the answers. As long as love is the core - love of self, others, Mother Earth, and the source of it all whatever name you wish to give it - there is likely something of value to be gained from other traditions. Certainly don't believe one faith path is more genuine, truer than the rest. I just know what works for me. And much of that is something words will always fail to express. Despite all of this, I do not believe in anything akin to fortune telling. Rather, horoscopes and tarots are a way to see current circumstances for a different point of view. Sometimes the "reading" is just plain funny. In any case, it is generally forgotten in short order or stored in the back of my head for future reference. What I enjoy most about Georgia Nichol is her sense of humour, her tendency toward the more ancient reading of star patterns rather than modern "fortune telling", and her shoe fetish. I usually get the biggest "ba-bing" from reading something after the fact as is the case with the bit posted above. For the record, Mary has long been my muse, even though I am not Catholic. The feminine divine has always been more accessible to me than its male counterpart. 

Eastern Adventures

I've been home just over a week, and am finally getting a chance to sort out my photos and memories and photographic memories. I blame Louise and Alice (cousin and her sister-in-law, respectively) for the delay in getting this post together. They arrived at Mom's the day after I arrived home. Yes, I had seen Alice just days before but managed to miss Louise - she was heading to St John while Alice and I were on the road to Fredericton. Anyhoo, it was great to see them and to be able to show them around our little neck of the woods.

Here's the group after dining at the Davis Bay "fish truck" (purple van in the background, not to be confused with The Grape which is parked off at the left).
But I digress. This blog is all about me, after all. So, without further adieu, I give you a condensed version of my Maritime meanderings.

First stop was Halifax, home of dear friends Dan and Pat. Their dog Hidey was an especially good host, particularly after receiving her "after dinner mint". Here's a shot of Dan, Pat, and Hidey on their front porch.

Just out of sight, above the door to 6310 Duncan St, is the flag of Nova Scotia. On special occasions (the Queen's birthday, anniversary of famous naval battles, birth/death of a notorious pirate, etc.), Dan hangs an appropriate flag (Union Jack, red or white ensign, Jolly Roger, etc.). A plaque on the railing (you can see the frame just below his coffee cup) informs interested passersby of the significance of said flag. Just the sort of thing one would expect from a curator of marine history. And, yes, I got a special tour of the Museum of the Atlantic. Most other touristy sights were seen on a previous trip. This time I wanted to spend most of my time visiting with Dan and Pat. Even so, we managed to visit the Hydrostone District (area of the city devastated by the Halifax Explosion), the art gallery (Maud Lewis's house was a highlight), and a section of a graveyard populated by victims of the Titanic sinking. Another highlight was a bird's-eye view of Kingsport, the model railway version Dan has set up in his basement.

Not sure which part I like best, the greenhouse with its tinier than tiny flowers, miniature replicas of Pat's quilts on the line next to a house, or the nifty lighting and sound effects. Little wonder his nephew likes to visit!

Dan drove me up to St John en route to a model railway convention (he received a prize for his greenhouse!).

Phil and Ellen met us for the pre-arranged "prisoner exchange". First order of business, breakfast. Cousin Bruce's daughters Jacqualine and Melissa were home for a friend's wedding, so it was a great excuse to get together with everyone. Dining location, the local Irving Station,of course (the numerous Tim Horton outlets couldn't accommodate all of us at one table). What a crew!!

Scary how Bruce's tummy and my bust line are about the same size.
Most of my time in New Brunswick was spent with Phil and Ellen at their lovely home overlooking the St John River. It was there that I managed to strike another item off my bucket list - kayaking.

Seems folks come from all over the world to test their metal against the power of the world-famous Reversing Falls. Imagine my surprise when the fellow next to me said "If you can handle this, you should try the Skookumchuck"! Little did he know that I lived just a short drive from that white water playground. Now, Mother, don't get excited. That isn't really me and Ellen shooting the rapids. Truth be told, this is how I looked lowering myself into a kayak for the first time, in the gentler waters across the street from Phil and Ellen's.

Soon got the hang of things, although the feathered paddle was a bit tricky at first (had a video showing my masterful paddling technique, but my less-than-superior computer skills won't enable me to upload it so you'll have to use your imagination - and, no, I didn't need to quickly learn how to Eskimo roll!).

On another day, Phil, Ellen and I did some exploring on both sides of the St John River. Took three tiny ferries before completing our route. Here's a view from above the opposite shore. Lovely Queen Ann's Lace in the foreground.

Did some exploring around St John, too. Popped in to the old courthouse to see "the" spiral staircase.

While this this a beautiful staircase, I really like the effect that I got by shooting the underside of another spiral staircase in the building ...

Looks more like a seashell or a mushroom than the underside of a staircase, no?

Along with my other personal affects, my luggage contained a wee envelope I came across whilst sorting out some of Mom's things prior to her move to Sechelt. Given the postmark of Upper Kent, NB and the date 1946, it likely contained a wedding card from Mom's aunt Alma. Note the 1 cent stamp:

 

Imagine my delight in finding that 7 Charlotte St is still standing (#7 is the purple door on the right)!

No trip to the Maritimes would be complete without a shared meal or two, or six. In addition to the group gathering at the Irving Station (a very popular spot, I might add, with offerings that are more palatable than Denny's). Here is a short of the aftermath from one such gathering at Phil and Ellen's:

I have no idea what pithy bit of wisdom Bruce was imparting during the clean-up, but I have little doubt that it was something quite profound.

Did I mention that fiddleheads made an appearance at most dinners? Alice happily demonstrated the highly refined bums-up technique for picking fiddleheads while Susan forged for greener pastures. Neither of them, loving relatives that they are, bothered to mention that fiddlehead season tends to coincide with black fly and May fly season. I could have used an extra hand or two just to keep the beasts at bay, never mind picking my dinner. As we all piled in the car after pillaging Alice's friend's crop (at the edge of the friend's property on the shore of the St John) I noticed that the front wall of the house wasn't white like the rest of the building. It was, in fact, a quivering mass of black - black flies and May flies. Gross! Was certainly glad to be eating indoors.

On my last night in St John, Phil, Ellen, Ellen's sister Glenna and their Mom joined me for dinner at the Reversing Falls. Great view, good food. Delightful company! Of course, I had another fill of seafood. 

Returned to Nova Scotia via the St John/Digby ferry. It was my first time crossing the Bay of Fundy, and the weather was perfect for the event. Phil and I were pretty certain we saw a fluke from a grey whale diving just off Digby Harbour  but Ellen wasn't so sure. We did all agree, however, that the French come much closer to describing the real function of a nursery as evident from my poor phonetic pronunciation of the word gracing this door on the ferry ...

Had another brief visit with Dan and Pat before heading to the airport. Managed to have a pleasant shower-enhanced walk through the Halifax Public Gardens. Many of the garden beds were in transition, but it was still a lovely place to wander.

All in all, it was a wonderful trip. While I managed to squeeze in a fair amount of sightseeing, the main focus of the journey was to see as many people as I could. I think I succeeded in seeing or talking to everyone I wanted to at least once. 

In addition to the bout of gout, there was only one unsavory moment. That was when Phil, Ellen and I attempted to have a nice dinner at the Evandale Resort. One of the last riverboat inns, the place had fallen on some tough times but new owners are trying to turn things around. Unfortunately, they seem to lack focus. We asked for a window table and were given one overlooking the road rather than the river. There are a zillion typos on the menu and the history that appears on the back of same. There is absolutely no ambiance in the room save for what is projected on the big-screen TV. The place more closely resembles my parent's old rec room than the "fine dining" establishment it is advertised to be. About that TV: it is a continuous slide show of the property. Fair enough, but do I really need to see a shot of heavy equipment, a guy standing in a pool while holding a garden hose, or a side view of a diesel tank? Should have been a clue of the dinner to come. The chicken breast stuffed with lobster and shrimp appealed, so I ordered that. I arrived a minute or two after Phil and Ellen received their meals. At $20, I was disappointed to find a mass-produced roll-style breast sitting on my plate. The vegetables were clearly over-cooked, but just barely warm. The mashed potatoes were dry. Worse, the chicken breast had a grey pallor not at all becoming to something intended to pass my lips. I ventured to take a bite. Dipped in the creamy garlic sauce that amply ladled over the roll, it was okay. Cutting into it for a second bite, I was horrified to find both chicken and seafood raw save for the very thin grey exterior. Obviously the "dish" had been nuked and not at all sufficiently. No doubt Ellen's alarm of "my God, did you swallow it?!?" caught the ear of the waitress who quickly whisked the offending mass from view. She returned a minute or two later to inform me that it would take longer to cook the stuffed breast than for Phil and Ellen to finish their meals. I was not offered anything as compensation. I had to ask for something else. I opted for the lasagna, thinking it a safer choice. About five minutes after Phil and Ellen finished their respective meals, the lasagna arrived. I was warned to mind the plate as it was extremely hot. Now skeptical, I ventured to sample the lasagna closest to the edge of the dish. It was lukewarm. A poke at the middle of the dish revealed ice crystals. I got up from the table in search of the manager only to find Phil and the waitress hot on my heels. I informed the waitress that we wouldn't be paying for dinner. She didn't argue and seemed both unsurprised and unfazed. I asked for the owner/manager's card and gave her mine. Phil then informed her I'm a food writer. Only then did she mutter an apology. When we got back to the house, Phil pulled out a copy of the New Brunswick tourism guide. The Evandale Resort received a four-star rating and noted that it property boasts a "fine dining" establishment and offers wedding packages. I am currently in the process of contacting New Brunswick Tourism, the provincial health department, and the owners in writing. Doubt much will happen. But at least all of you now know not to eat at the Evandale Resort in Evandale, New Brunswick!! Hey, friends don't let friends eat bad food. Especially food that might kills them. RAW CHICKEN - Ugh!