An incredibly normal day

It’s one of my walk-with-Joe days. I’ve already been invited to go back to his place afterwards to have a beer and meet Georgie’s mini-me.

Seriously, how adorable is that?

Joe commissioned a local felt artist to create this mini-Georgie. The idea originally was to make a present of this creation to the elderly woman whose move into a home was the reason Georgie came into Joe’s life. (Now, of course, he’s so besotted with his commission that I suspect he will end up having to order another one.)

In the morning I went into the freezer to pull something out to make for dinner. That’s when I spotted the steaks.

I don’t eat a lot of red meat in general and steaks in particular are reserved for visits from my friend Krys. However, when the province shut down in-restaurant dining again, in an effort to support my favourite local restaurant, I purchased one of their packs of frozen barbecue basics, which included two steaks. The only problem with these packs is the assumption made that they are being purchased for two people to consume. Two chicken breasts, two steak, two burgers, etc. And they are frozen together in bags of two – impossible to separate when frozen, so both must be thawed at the same time.  Whilst I could imagine eating – and indeed did – two chicken breasts in one week, I cannot imagine eating steak twice in the same short period.

And then it hit me: Joe has a barbecue. Perhaps he might be interested in steak for dinner? I checked and indeed he was.

So, after our walk (which includes an obligatory photo of Georgie looking cute) we head back to his place and start cooking: steaks with roasted new potatoes and my grated courgette dish.

Over dinner it occurs to us that this is the first time either of us has actually had dinner at a home with another person since last June when a mutual friend invited both of us to his place – and that was not indoors, but on his patio with this view.

Not too shabby, eh?

Now I like my diningroom, I really do. That said, unless there are jays outside pecking at the peanut wreath, there isn’t much of a view.

Not so the view from Joe’s diningroom table.

And I’m not talking about Georgie’s mini me sitting on the table. Lucky beggar. (Well, lucky beggars all, anyone who was able to afford an ocean view home.)

Back outside on the deck after dinner for some backyard ball throwing for Georgie. You can’t actually see the sun set from Joe’s place, but there is a wonderful pink glow on the water.

After witnessing that I head home from what has seemed like an incredibly normal pre-pandemic day.