Sometimes events just come together in a wonderful way. Serendipity and all that. Last weekend was one of those times. The weather forecast looked kindly, especially for November. On Friday morning I received a message from my sister, Eulalie, (not her real name), that she would be visiting us for a few days. She arrived the next afternoon and we met at The Lodge in Vankleek Hill where our Dad lives. He was surprised and delighted to have his TWO daughters paying him homage, bearing pies and cakes and, most importantly, chatting with him.
On Sunday I got a message from my son, Jon, in Montreal. I had emailed him earlier to let him know his favourite aunt was on her way. Those two have a mutual musical connection; he plays jazz guitar and she sings and composes. They get each other. They also share a wicked sense of humour...well, we all do. Anyway, the message from Jon was an invitation to an afternoon of High Tea and mellow jazz at a Chocolaterie near Jon's place on Sherbrooke Street. It was all his treat, including valet parking. How could we not go??
So there we were, sitting like two 'ladies' enjoying our tea and treats, which were all ceremoniously described in French by the young people serving us.
The room was elegant in a funky way: crystal chandeliers, heavily framed mirrors, white naperie and the requisite potted palm mixed in with contemporary wall art. My son is just behind the palm fronds.
Jon and his friend, Adrian, played their smooth jazz while the patrons chatted, munched and sipped. It wasn't a concert; the sound levels were kept low enough to allow people to talk and yet the music certainly added to the atmosphere.
Eulalie and I decided to leave before it got dark. We thanked our hosts and departed. It's usually an hour's ride back and because there were construction barriers at Rigaud on the 40 we decided to take the 20 back. Bad move. More construction around Dorion made us miss our exit. We seemed to be heading southwest for a long time, passing exits for St. Feriol, St. Dominique and St. Emmanuel. We decided to take the next one and suddenly found ourselves in St Clet. This made us laugh. As kids on Sunday drives with Dad we would somehow always end up in St.Clet so it became a family joke. By now it was dark and I was glad my sister was driving, (she's very good). At one point I realised we were going over Rigaud Mountain. Drat! That meant we wouldn't miss the construction barriers after all. But at least we knew where we were. We finally got home, two and a half hour later. It was our Excellent Adventure.
