Wednesday, August 19, 2009

At Manitou Beach

The view from the Village Perk, where I had a solitary lunch before Cathy and Emma arrived at Lake Manitou.

I have a shitload of photos to show you but organizing them on the Blogspot pages is such a pain in the butt that I'm reduced to having only one photo per entry, unless I have the time and patience to dick around editing, editing again, editing again, and so on, so forth in order to get the descriptive cutlines where I want them. No time, no inclination, sorry.

It's been raining pretty much steadily since yesterday afternoon, not long after Cathy and Emma left to make their way back to the city. I've been at the desk working all afternoon, taking breaks for lunch and to carry laundry next door to the working washing machine. Been doing this since sometime in June and it's getting tiresome, except for the opportunity to visit for a few minutes with Scott's mom each time I go, when lucky enough to catch her at home.

The machine downstairs here started leaking and we haven't replaced it because we're moving soon and plan to buy a new set for GG Farm, and the machine left at GG Farm by the previous owners isn't hooked up because we have been having problems with the overflowing, backing-up sewage lagoon and don't want to run more water through the system than we have to. Whatever. One more minor inconvenience to add to the list. Could be worse: I could be Scott, dealing with sewer pumps and all that goes with them.


Two men are the owners of The Village Perk and one of them makes the best pecan pie. I always have a piece when we stop there, but sadly the last one had sold before I arrived on Sunday, and on Monday we left shortly after breakfast. I'll have to look in again, with high hopes, when I pick Emil up from Camp Easter Seal on Friday.

You can see the front wall of The Village Perk by clicking here. I don't know whose photo stream this is or who the lady in the picture is or what any of it has to do with the Maldives online dating site, but there's the coffee shop, anyway. While googling for other photos taken around Manitou Beach I found this, a travel diary which describes some of Saskatchewan's rural residents as having a "bovine, slack-jawed" appearance. Ouch!! Thanks for nothing, eh? Assholes.

There are three shops offering vintage and antique wares in the resort village of Manitou Beach, and I came home with a tall, heavy brass ashtray that I will leave outside in the hope it will encourage visiting smokers not to leave their cigarette butts on the grass around our yard, as that drives Scott batty (I hardly notice them. However, it's not always me who doesn't see the obvious. Today while towelling off after his bath Scott bumped his arm against a picture that's been hanging on the wall for four years. He pointed out that it's sure to get knocked down and broken. After four years, said I, I'm not worried about it. He doesn't believe it's been four years, but I know it has). I also bought some old picture frames, with which I plan to make a large grouping of family photos, both new and old, for a wall at the new house; a set of silver salt and pepper shakers; a half-brick butter dish; and an old wooden milking stool; all the while coveting more and firmly restraining myself.

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