1. I went into the pharmacy in Pembroke to buy my children some candy. The cashier asks for my postal code. "You don't need my postal code for buying candy," I said frankly but not rudely. She's just doing her job: I've worked in retail. Had she said, "Rexall is interesting in finding out the geographical location of its clients for sake of franchise expansion in order to better serve its customers..." I would have considered telling her my postal code. Being in the middle of a biography on Stalin I am not in the mood for this sort of thing. "Postal code, Comrade!" Sometimes freedom means not answering when you don't want to.
2. Anne-Marie: "What's wrong - you seem depressed?"
Me: "A hot day in the house with the family."
She laughed. A suitable explanation.
3. A friend informed me that my picture from last post was aesthetically flawed: I should not have simply presented myself straight on. I should, rather, have turned my body slightly to the side and then turned my head towards the camera. Things I just do not know. How did I made it to 37?
4. Full-circles. I have an inkling that God likes them. Fr. Hattie had been for a short visit to our house a few days before he was to go into the hospital, where all heck was to break loose, where he almost died. It was so nice to have him back over for a visit last night, a survivor on the mend. Saying good-byes to our friends in Barry's Bay is not supposed to include that kind of good-bye. I am grateful. God knows they don't make gentlemen like that priest anymore.