Oma's Big Day in Town ...

I decided to stop in the village yesterday and treat myself to lunch and a glass of wine.  Big mistake.

But to backtrack a little.  It was Friday.  My car had been boosted twice in just over a week and I was pretty sure the battery was on its last legs.  Five years ago I had bought it at Canadian Tire with an extended warranty.  I checked out the paperwork and headed in to town to get the work done free.

Yes, indeed, it was dead.  Yes, they would replace it ... almost free.

The waiting room at the Carling location is large and open concept. A television whirrs in the background making it difficult to do much more than watch it or the people around you.  If the show was representative of CTV programming I fear for the future of the nation.  Several cooks were preparing food for the Super Bowl.  I had just read a couple of articles in The Citizen about the fact that Canadians have nearly reached the BMI of their SuperSize cousins in the States.  Watching the food preparation on-screen, I understood why.

The first two cooks were preparing ENORMOUS sandwiches in which they stuffed mounds of sauerkraut, smoked meat, and french fries ... yes ... french fries. I guess the idea was to produce a dish that could be hand held and complete.  The problem was that the top piece of bread kept falling off.

The larger of the cooks settled it back on and then licked her fingers.  When it fell off again she used the same fingers to settle it back on its precarious perch.

I thought about the 500 pound woman I had just read about who is encouraging us all to embrace obesity, about restaurant meal preparation, about germs, and turned away from the tv.

I concentrated on the people in the room, none of whom weighed 500 pounds or seemed inclined to reach that goal by eating 10,000 calorie sandwiches while slouching about on a couch this weekend.

One was telling the service personnel that he was bringing a suit against someone because so many unnecessary repairs had been done on his vehicle.  He had long lists and photos. The staff seemed nervous and exceedingly polite.

An older man was told told that he needed to have something done to his vehicle instead of just having over $900 worth of tires installed because his old tires had worn unevenly.  He refused.

One young and very pregnant woman made several trips to the washroom and then sat sniffling and playing with her I-phone.

A young couple teased one another and romped on their chairs like frisky puppies.

The service manager announced that my car was ready and I headed home, stopping to visit Tammy who is recovering from very painful surgery and is not a happy camper. 

By the time I got to Wakefield I was hungry and wanted a nice glass of wine. 

I remembered reading the following in the Wakefield News:

            LE HIBOU IS OPEN AGAIN!

We've all had a good break and have re-opened with a new menu (and still some old favorites). Hope to see you out -- we missed our village.
I decided to stop at Le Hibou. I talked to the owner, sat down and she brought me the new menu.  I made my choice ... and then waited.  For half an hour, I waited.  The owner seemed distracted and there were no waiters in sight, just a young man peeling potatoes or something in the kitchen.  Finally I left and went over to Rutherford's and sat down there.

The waiter arrived promptly and I decided I had made the right decision, even though there would be no glass of wine as they are not licenced.  The food, however, is excellent ... local, reasonable and tasty.

There was a family of five sitting at the next table ...one of those families that somehow take over a restaurant.  You know, the ones who make it impossible for other customers to carry on conversations because their presence is so insistent.  Oh well, I thought, I will read.  Even that wasn't easy because the noise level escalated and the two younger children (about 10 and 12) got into an argument. The parents made no real attempt to de-escalate things.  They just got louder themselves. Patient and accepting ... but louder.  Now I was listening to loud kids arguing and even louder parents showing just what good parents they were by maintaining their calm.

Suddenly the little girl screeched, first at her parents, then at her brother,  and then she  threw a piece of chicken breast at him.

It did not hit him, however; it hit me.

"Hey!" I yelled in my best old teacher voice.

The parents finally began to act as they should have from the beginning.  They took control.

The first thing they did was send the two younger children from the table to cool off, and told them to apologize to me.

The boy dashed past my table smirking.

The girl followed him muttering "excuse me" as she rushed past.

The mother insisted that she pick up the chicken and apologize properly.

She hunted for it.  I pointed to it now sitting on the chair beside me.  She muttered, "I'm sorry," and ran after her brother.  I said to her retreating back, "I hope you don't usually act this way in restaurants."

Everything became very quiet and I returned to my book.

Five minutes later the rest of their food had arrived (enough to feed a Haitian village) and the father went out to search for the kids.  He brought them back and the entire family began to behave the the way one expects people to behave in a restaurant ... quietly ... not disturbing the peace ... having respect for other diners. 

Too bad it took a flying piece of chicken and a grumpy old woman to make them realize that a restaurant is a public place and people ought to do their best to ensure that they and their children do not intrude on the enjoyment of others.

A Little Ketchup on the Side ... updated

* Lake Front News:  On Saturday Tamarak, and her Carino came out to share local barbecued beef burgers.   Our entertainment consisted of a display put on by Mother Nature with a lot of help from the people who have been felling trees and carving out the base of the mountain that borders the road on the other side of the lake. I know nothing about physics, geology or botany but I do know that if you remove a large chunk of the base of a triangle, the top will tumble, and if you remove trees, you will no longer have a root system which help keep shale and earth in place.  What they have done is destabilize an already fragile rock face.  From about 3 p.m. and on through the night, we watched and listened as small avalanches slid down the ravaged almost vertical slope tossing rocks onto the road and into the lake.  On Sunday I rode my bike around (still far too skittish to take a car) and realized that one section of the road was now the exact width of a compact car.  Any vehicle larger than that  would have one wheel up on the debris as it drove through the narrow opening between the lake and the cliff.

I called one of the councillors and ended up speaking to two of them.  They suggested that I file a formal complaint about the dangerous conditions, and recommended talking to the local newspaper people.

On Monday workers arrived with blasting caps and spent the day creating small explosions near the base.

Today they are drilling through rock   (and through my skull). Kenya has been indoors for a couple of days now with her paws over her ears.

As I write they are now preparing to do some more blasting.  It's quite interesting.  They lay the charges and then  cover them with huge mats made of old tires.  Then they move all the machinery used in the process out of harm's way.  Just before they set off the explosion, the biggest machine with the air horn honks several times and then the lever is pushed.  The one they are working on now is the site of one of the Saturday night landslides.  I expect that it will cause several trees to tumble and possibly take out the hydro lines.  So I am closing down for now.

After writing this, I biked over for a closer look and ended up speaking with one of the councillors I had spoken to.  They have decided to put off blasting the spot I wrote about and are nibbling away from the left hand side where the work starts.  It is slow tedious work ... prepare for blasting, blast, shovel up debris and deal with it, confer, start again.

They have been dumping the debris alongside the road and very close to the creek that feeds the lake ... wonder whether that is environmentally sound, too.  But they are running out of places to put it.

While all this was going on a line of cars were halted for about 1/2 hour ... on their way to the 5 Lakes Fishing Club (I know because of the red licence plates).  Maybe if they inconvenience the club members enough something will get done.  They certainly have more pull than the residents here have.  We are too few and not nearly important enough.

On the Social Side:   Tamarak, Carino and Ian came and made dinner yesterday.  They made their wonderful Island Pork Tenderloin and I made up a dressing using a little oil, cider vinegar, lemon juice, water and herbs, and basted slices of red and green pepper, eggplant and zucchini on the barbecue.

Today I am going to meet Liz at Le Hibou for lunch.  She is on her way home from golfing and has some ESL materials for me.  I am looking forward to escaping from the drilling.

Neighbours:    My next door neighbours have picked the perfect time to install their septic system.  They have huge earth moving machines roaring away providing accompaniment for the drills and the blasting caps.

On my way back from biking over to take a closer look I noticed that the new neighbour had parked his car on the road in front of his driveway where his truck was parked.  For a couple of weeks he parked his truck on the road directly in front of the mailboxes necessitating about five manoeuvres for anyone trying to collect mail and then turn using the private road across from his place, so I was pleased that the car was less obtrusive than the truck had been.  I suspected that someone had finally complained to him.  Then I stopped to say hi to Rowboat Flo who told me about the excitement this morning.  One of the massive vehicles used for the roadwork got held up by the car on the road..  No one was home to move the car and it took an hour for the big vehicle to make its way past.  Several cars just sat there waiting for the the vehicle to move so that they could continue.

So ... between our new inconsiderate neighbour and the demolition of the mountain we are have an exciting start to summer ... I could do with a return to the peace and quiet of Pike Lake's usual boredom.

Moules et Frites at Le Hibou

I have been meaning to start my special treats for myself for some time.  I decided to start with the Tuesday special at Le Hibou:  moules et frites.  

I love moules et frites and we have a long and happy history.  I used to eat them in Ottawa ... in the market with a group of friends ... at a tiny little hole in the wall on Rideau with my best friend  ... on a wharf  in Bretagne frequented by truckers with a lovely gay friend, now deceased.  Always moules et frites with red wine.

The moules et frites at Le Hibou lived up to all my expectations.  They were served with a broth that had a strong hint of coconut and a glimmer of heat ... and a wonderful French stick with which to sop up the broth.

You will recall that I wanted to spend my extra money ... money from dogsitting ... money from selling funky furniture ... on special treats for the soul.  Well this was my first attempt ... and it failed.

The owner of Le Hibou  and our waitress announced that our meal was on the house ... a thank you for the carousel and the nice things I had said on my blog about Le Hibou.

My goodness!  All I have done is tell the truth ... and play with their logo and give them a tiny gift because I am so happy they have become part of Wakefield.