Things move along. I got a small contract to mark undergraduate term papers for the University, which was gratifyingly intense, and another set of statements to transcribe so I continue to keep my head above water financially without leaving home.  

I was thinking yesterday when reading Alexander McCall Smith, where people are referred to as "the late" when dead in Botswana, and that my dad would now qualify as late.  How much he would hate that. He was never late.  I remember him being upset with people who couldn't get it together to go places when they said they were going to (my brother, specifically) and bitching about Canadians having no sense of time.  My whole life, after his training, I've been that person who has to sit and wait for things to start for way too long.  Although, I have made people happy in that sometimes they say, "Oh, I'm so pleased to see you, I wasn't sure anyone would come."

Also yesterday. I went into town in the morning, ostensibly to meet the detachment commander, we've been emailing about the possibility of work, and he wanted to meet.  So I duly showed up at 10 (on the dot - see above) as requested.  You'd think I'd know better, really. How many times did I have to tell the person waiting in the porch that the member they were coming to see had been called out to something and I didn't know when they would be back.  He was at a meeting.  Pleasantries were exchanged between the clerk and me, I left my number, she promised to get him to call when he got back in the office.

I went home.  Decided to go for a run, because it was almost lunchtime anyway.  Set off with the intention of going down the water plant road to the track leading to the railroad. That's not my usual path, but it's a steepish hill and it makes the coming back harder, so bonus. It was a beautiful shiny day, and Spotify gave me Burton Cummings singing Fine State of Affairs, and then John Denver, the song about poems and prayers and promises.  "I've been lately thinking, about my lifetime, all the things I've done, and how it's been." Not the most upbeat song, but I wasn't running fast, just steadily.

As I rounded the corner halfway down towards the railroad, dark shapes were moving on the track. I realized it was a black bear and at least one cub, but I was looking at their butts so I turned around and ran back up the hill, hoping they hadn't seen me or heard my bell.  I was moving pretty fast.  I know you're not supposed to run away from them but as soon as I rounded the corner again they wouldn't be able to see me even if they were looking. Got back up to the water plant road, glanced back and no bears following so I kept running.  By then, after taking the hill so fast and then running flat out on the road I was totally out of breath.  I slowed down, took off my headphones, and my phone started to ring.  I fumbled to release the Bluetooth connection and answered it.  It was, of course, the detachment commander.  I tried not to huff at him and we spoke briefly about me coming back at one.

When I met him, after lunch, we were talking about here and how wild and beautiful it is.  I said, oh, yes, sorry I was out of breath this morning when you called, I was running away from bears.