Last week I went to Dinner for the first time in two months.
They recognized me, which was good.
In the interim, I have:
- sung a couple of my songs at a moderately prestigious Folk Festival songwriting competition,
- started reading a couple of books (Entertainment Theology and Musicophilia) and writing a few things,
- watched Doctor Who and The Second Chance (again),
- played Portal (really good) and Doctor Who - The Adventure Games (meh),
- swum in a rambunctious river at the foot of a water fall,
- traded in some points for a new camera (the only thing better than a new toy is a free new toy) and taken a bunch of pictures,
- had lunch with one friend and coffee with another,
- finished a wood working project,
- started working on a bass uke.
Visited a couple of times at thechurchiusedtogoto. Not sure what to do about that situation. Exile sucks.
As far as the corp goes, we've been adopted by a local service organization who are doing the paperwork and looking after the bills. Which means, effectively, that the project we've got money for is now their project. Whatever. I'm back to being a figurehead, which is just so freaking OK. And that just until December. 5 more meetings and I'm out. Booo-Yaaaah! I can count that on one hand. Or foot. Heck, that's less than the number of ukuleles I own.
In the last two months, some stuff's been done. The carpet's been cleaned, reducing the raccoon smell by several powers of ten. The old stage has been taken down. The office space is being worked on.
The nurse practitioner who's been coming courtesy of the local Community Health Centre has had no lack of customers.
The roof still leaks (I counted 4 buckets catching drips on Wednesday), the juice table's been moved to the other side of the room and the old bar's been removed.
But whatever little things have changed, the people haven't. The stories haven't.
The hearts haven't.
One woman was looking for help to get rid of a couple of squatters in her apartment. She took them in because they had no where else to go, but they're endangering her lease. The team was on that.
SW had decided that it's just too hot for jeans anymore, so he's opted for a shorter hair cut and skirts.
CL was happy because she'd had a visit from her grandkids, but she's not happy at having to move from one unit, near the front in the 'quiet' section, to one near the back where there's more drug use.
CCL will be playing the piano for a church down the highway for the month of August. They have a modern worship band and she enjoys that.
And W was very glad to see me. I think. Either that or she was mad at me for being away for so long. She'd had a rough day. Been bitten by a small dog, and told off for something I didn't quite understand by someone whose name I didn't catch.
After Dinner, I got up to leave and from her seat she grabbed my arm and pulled me down for a hug. A heavy duty hug. The words "vise grip" come to mind. She wrapped her arms around my neck and held tight. I just stood there bent over halfway, my cheek pressed against hers so hard it made my jaw hurt.
She whispered, "I don't want you to go."
In my left hand, I was holding half a cup of cold coffee that I really didn't want to go down her back, so BL, watching, took pity on me and took it from my hand while I stood there for... I don't know how long.
Finally, I said to her, "Know what?"
"What?"
"You're a good woman, and I like you."
"I like you too."
She let go.
I promised I'd see her next week.
And I will.
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