Like the surface of a stale custard

I guess the storm season has officially begun.  We’ve had a few good blows this past week and the ferry service has been suspended twice already.  It can get a little hairy out there.  Tís the season for hunkering down and stayin’ put.  Which is fine by me.

Hunkerin’ down, Sally style is a bit different, tho.  For her, it simply means not going to town unless the weather is going to be clear for the day.  We don’t want to make the effort to get there but not be able to get back because the ferry isn’t running.  Otherwise – weather be damned! – it is business as usual for her.

She’ll head off anywhere in her small boat if she wants to get there.  Being the postmistress now and then, attending book-club and community association meetings, it seems, all waits for no one.  And so Sal shows up.

Yesterday the winds got up to 90kmh in the late evening.  No big deal if you are snuggled up around the fire.  But that kind of thing can be a concern if it had turned earlier and one was caught out in it.  Especially with the light of day becoming shorter and shorter.

But you know the post office motto: “Neither snow, nor rain, nor heat, nor gloom of night, stays these couriers from the swift completion of their appointed rounds.”  Sal subscribes to that.  So Sal will go.

If Sally heads to the post office in the morning, she may have more than a bit of a pounding coming home later.

And common sense plays no role in her deliberations.  “Sweetie, the mail plane isn’t flying today, anyway.  And that motto of stoicism is the US Post Office motto.  The Canadian one is ‘Never deliver today what can be lost, spindled or mutilated before tomorrow.  The rates may go up!‘  Honestly, no one needs their Walmart flyer or a Lee Valley catalogue that bad!”

“True.  But sometimes people need to buy stamps!”

But it is not all weather roulette.  Book club does make the effort to do a weather check in the winter months.  Whenever possible.  And community business is conducted more and more by e-mail as the season grows cold. So Flyin’ Sal is somewhat restricted in her recklessness.  But never shut down.  Intrepid is not the word.  Neither is fearless.  Blind, unconscious willfulness comes closest.  Bloody-minded, at the very least.

“What’s the big deal?  No matter how high the waves, my boat floats over them.  I just have to go slower, is all. Anyway, if it is really bad, I’ll take one of the dogs.”

And that, dear reader, is one of my mental crutches.  The dogs ain’t stupid.  They won’t go if it is too dangerous.  Well, not willingly anyway.  They are pretty loyal to Sal but they make it clear that they prefer the warmth and safety of home over the near-death experience she is sometimes offering.  Their take on the situation usually serves to alter Sal’s plans.  “Well, who woulda thunk it?  Dogs are cowering and crawling away.  I guess they are not feeling well.  Maybe we should stay home.”

Trust me: it is easier to teach old dogs new tricks………..Ol’ Puddings just get tougher and tougher.

2 thoughts on “Like the surface of a stale custard

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