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BF1's dad died on January 11. My mother was here visiting, and his death was hard for her too; not only did she know BF1's dad, but her own husband passed away almost a year ago. All of this seems very raw. Mum went home on Saturday morning. We took her to the airport and continued on into the big city for some shopping, something we don't do very often but would like to do all the time. It was a great day, warm enough to walk around, the shopping was excellent, the darlings were totally well-behaved.

I went to the hometown on Sunday, January 14. People were covering my classes, since I had arranged that before I left. Turns out that on Monday the university was closed anyway due to ice everywhere, and more expected. We haven't had much snow at all this winter, but this ice was a show-stopper.

Hometown was colder than Antarctica...almost...arrived on Sunday evening to a -26C greeting, colder with the wind chill. Wind chill is for people and animals and other warm-blooded things that wander in the frigid outdoors. It has nothing to do with what your car engine feels, the car doesn't give a damn about whether there's wind or not, the actual temperature is the actual temperature. So usually I don't care too much about "wind chill" because it only sounds like bragging. The wind was blowing and it was fucking cold. Put it together, put your exposed little face into it? and get frostbite really fast. The more the wind blows and the colder the temperature, the faster the freezing of your little cheeks.

And still, the car does not care for the wind chill, its block will freeze when the temperature drops to an appropriately shocking level.

Anyway. I get into hometown, where there is snow, and where people leave their Christmas lights up outside until mid-February, which is something that I am nuts about and if it wasn't so weird and non-prairie-like I would knock on their doors and give them a big hug for making my dark nights sparkle. I am all about things shiny and distracting, after all.

The weather continues to be cold on Monday. Monday during the day is workage, hanging out at Mum's house, making some notes, mostly hanging out. Monday night is sushi with BF1, then back to her place for overnight, staying up until 01:00 drinking martinis and white wine and eating chocolate from here and here. The Paris chocolate came courtesy of BF2, it was fantastic.... Not so fantastic at 06:00 which is when BF1 got up for her darlings, but that wasn't my worry. Much talking, much listening during the course of the evening. You can guess who did what.

I didn't talk about how I felt about BF1's dad's passing. There's not much to say about being sad and confused about it. I will say that when I went to the funeral on Wednesday morning, when Mum and I went into the church, I had a small attack of the shakes. I am not an overly emotional person and I am rarely given over to crying or carrying on. I prefer not to show my emotions in public, since they aren't for others to view. I am the objective observer, I'm not even "the doer" as BF1 is. Often I don't "do" much, unless asked. I find my mind is usually a blank when others would be thinking, or feeling. I feel more like I'm an open vessel, and whatever is available will fill me up. That must sound flaky but I don't know how else to put it. I don't hold back, I suppose that if I wanted to cry or feel terribly sad then that's what I would do. I shook instead, but it passed. I sang the songs, I recited the prayers, I felt superior to those who don't know the Catholic rituals.

Well, after all, I'm not perfect, and I did bloody feel superior.

The funeral was lovely, in the way that funerals can be. The Catholic Church does not encourage eulogies, but two were given anyway, since the priest was benevolent. People who were close to La Pere said wonderful things about him, because for the most part he was a wonderful man. No one escapes the dark though, and he wasn't always fabulous, but many people knew him to be fabulous and there's no point in arguing that when the guy is dead and in an urn. We're supposed to celebrate life at a funeral, and we did that. And there was a wake later, and lots of people came to that (luckily, exhusband did not make an appearance, something for which I am grateful, and I don't believe that gratitude is something that he has ever inspired in me) and then we went to LaMere's house and ate more little things and drank lovely wine, all of it. It's not as though La Pere was going to re-form and drink the stuff, after all, and LaMere is not one for wine. Perfetto!!

Youngest sister of the Tribe of Four picked me up (egad I have to think of better names for people) and we headed into the city (we are rural people) for some food and chats. She's looking to change careers, there's a bakery for sale along one of her routes and she's interested in it. It's seasonal, it's hard work, but we love hard work in my family. We thrive on work, the more there is, the happier we are. Yet, still the dichotomy: we would all quit in a heartbeat to flake out on the couch to watch the soaps.

Although Hub says I would last about 20 minutes at that, and he might be right. I'd go insane.

It was an intense few days, and now I am going to have to scramble tonight to get my notes together for tomorrow morning. Since the U was closed on Monday my classes are offset, and ths is a pain in the ass because I'm not giving the same lectures back to back any more, and because of the timing of my lectures I'm giving the further ahead one first tomorrow, and the further behind one second. Shit de merde, as my Quebecqois friends say, it will blow, but then I'm done and I can come home and collapse for the weekend, henna my hair, call Andrew the hairdresser and get him to trim the tresses....my hair is crazy straight but it is also flat to the head driving me crazy. Hub says there's pad thai for supper, and that makes my ears sing and my belly happy, because I won't have to cook or clean up very much, translating to an extra hour of note-making, which is something I should get to if I'd like to get to bed before midnight. What?? away for four days and not enough work was done to be prepared for tomorrow? No shit Sherlock, not enough notes.

And life, much as we think it shouldn't, because damn it all, everything is different, goes on its little path. We have no choice but to follow along, taking the left and right forks as they present themselves. Sometimes the paths are full of brambles and not so fun things and they leave you shaken and pale, and sometimes the paths are full of bright sunshine and diamonds. Much of the time, they're just a means to an end. Or The End.