THIRTY-SIX - Batching it

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Saturday, January 19th

Well, this is all very interesting! This morning, over bowls of steaming oatmeal, my father announced that he and Misty were heading to Sarita Island for a little "overnighter." I said, overnighter, as in a "dirty weekend" overnighter, and he said, Well, duh, Myles, what other kind of overnighter is there? So, of course, I started to tell him there are multiple types of sleepovers, but he cut me off before I even got started. I think he was itching to get out the door, truth be told.

He said that Norm would keep an eye on me, but that the cabin would be virtually mine until tomorrow night when he and Misty returned. Then he went on to lecture me about the evils of alcohol, the gate-way drug that is weed and the dangers of indulging in unprotected sex, which was entirely unnecessary. I don't even think I've had a whole beer in my life, and I haven't even made it to second base yet, so, you worries, Dad.

Apparently, they've gone to some place called Spindrift Resort—one of those rustic, couple-y places that has private hot tubs and fluffy white robes and where  pay extra to have some super fit person with a German name paint you with mud and put hot stones on your spine. Not my thing, but Dad seemed pretty stoked about it. I guess when you're in love, even being covered in hot mud feels good. I wonder if Ivy has thought about such things?

Norm and I waved them off around ten a.m. Misty was wearing make-up, and had done something fancy with her hair, and Dad had trimmed his beard and put product in his his. There's something different about him these days, and it isn't just the beard and the mountain man clothes, either. I can't really put my finger on it. He looks taller...or something.

After they'd left, Norm asked me to help him feed Desmond and Snowflake and Audrey, and I ended up sticking around the rest of the morning to help him fix his fence. Actually, all I really did was hold some wobbly parts steady while he banged in the nails. 

He asked me if I was going to be OK on my own all night and I rolled my eyes and said, or course, but truthfully, I knew I'd have to step up my Paul Bunyan game in order to keep the fire going all night. I'll also have to make sure there's kindling for the morning, because it's freaking cold in the cabin at 6 a.m.


Well, that was a stellar evening! Here's what happened:

In a bold and uncharacteristic move, I texted Ivy and invited her over for dinner, just the two of us. I told her that my dad was away, and that I would like to cook a nice meal, just for us. She was ecstatic over the idea, and, said she would bring dessert.

Women like a man who knows his way around a kitchen, and while I'm no culinary wizard, I do know a thing or two about pasta (thanks, Mom). I managed to fancy up some Kraft Dinner with some dried chanterelle mushrooms, red pepper, and diced zucchini, which I thought was quite creative (because...complimentary colours) and bound to impress Ivy.

Mrs. Irving dropped her off at five and said she would pick her up at nine. I told her that Norm was next door, just in case she was apprehensive about leaving her daughter alone with a confident young woodsman in an apron, wielding a wooden spoon. But she didn't seem too bothered; I guess, like Ivy, she is a forward-thinking woman.

The dinner was a huge success. We ate our KD on our laps in front of the wood stove, and I am proud to say that I brought up the subject of my less-than-wonderful day at school yesterday. I told Ivy I had felt like a boyfriend "prop" and asked her if perhaps we could find a way to spend quality time together at school, while still leaving space to hang with our own friends. I was prepared for histrionics, or for her to tell me I was some kind of control freak, but she actually smiled and looked a bit relieved. And then we both just started laughing and laughing because neither one of us has ever had a boyfriend or girlfriend before and Ivy said, are there rules for this kind of thing? And I said, if they are, then that was stupid, because everybody is different. So we toasted each other with classes of club soda (with wedges of lemon in our glasses) and declared that rules were meant to be broken and we would just do what felt right from this point on. It was such an illuminating conversation, and although Ivy brought a vanilla Sara Lee layer cake, (which she said was more symbolic than anything else), we didn't really need the extra sweetness, if you catch my drift, because the kisses were enough sugar for me! I'll have to remember to tell Norm that I took his advice and got my balls back. LOL.

After dinner, I wanted to take Ivy next door and introduce her to Audrey, but the time flew by so fast and her mom showed up right on the stroke of nine.

I really wanted to kiss her again when she got into the car, but that was impossible because Mrs. Irving was staring at me with a maple syrupy smile all over the face, like Ivy's and my fledgling relationship was just too cute for words. So, instead of a kiss, Ivy and I sort of bumped foreheads and then fist bumped, which was totally lame.

After she left, I sat in a dreamlike state on the front porch for a bit, listening to Mick Jagger singing, "Wild Horses," in the llama barn (Journey is now history). Then I rolled up my sleeves, grabbed the axe, and proceeded to split a butt load of kindling for the morning. 

I tell you, is there anything better than chopping wood under a starlit sky, with the taste of your lover's Dr. Pepper flavoured lip gloss still upon your mouth? I very much doubt it.

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