Can I gloat for a minute about my weekend. I haven't been this sore, and satisfied, with bliss carrying over to Monday morning, since well, I can't remember. Jack was away in Quebec, well out of earshot, and like the Leafs looking for the Cup, it was long overdue. To think, I had actually given up. Knowing it was inevitable, I didn't even shave my legs. I wanted it to be really, really dirty.
I got on my hands and knees did it over and over and over. All weekend long. I pulled gout weed 'til I couldn't pull any longer.
That my friends, is how boring my life is.
Gout weed is the herpes of plant life. A miserable little prick of a ground cover that keeps coming back even after you've told it in plain English that you are "just not that into it". Aside from the hearty geranium it's about all I can grow.
When I Googled "gout weed" this morning, I kept getting links for Horny Goat Weed. Surely that plant must be invasive on a more interesting level, so I went there instead. True enough, those crazy Chinese have been sucking back the Epimedium species of perennials for over 2000 years. It's heralded as a natural aphrodisiac. To be scientific, Horny Goat Weed contains a variety of flavonoids, polysaccharides, sterols and an alkaloid called magnaflorine. And while the exact way horny goat weed works remains unknown – and, who gives a shit – the plant has long been employed to "restore sexual fire, boost erectile function, allay fatigue and alleviate menopausal discomfort".
Maybe it's just the position those Chinese people assume to pick the damn stuff.
So, while my erectile function doesn't need any boosting, I could use a little allaying of my fatigue from time to time. Maybe I'll grow me some Horny Goat Weed. There's a big, backyard- size hole where all the gout weed used to be.
Which got me to thinking. Many pant sizes ago, when I worked for Butterfield & Robinson, I was researching a new itinerary for the Annapolis Royal to Wolfville extension of the 7-day Nova Scotia bike tour. This required countless, painstaking hours of drinking, er, planning with Patrick Redgrave, the owner of The Garrison House Inn on the main drag of Annapolis Royal. One particularly grueling day we drove up to the NSLC in Annapolis to research a suitable, local wine for the mostly Kosher crowd that would insist shellfish verboten, that is until the butter started melting. But I digress.
As I was getting ready to reverse out of my spot in the NSLC parking lot, a beat up Chevy Vega pulled into the space next to me. I glanced over as the driver, a man, jumped out of the car and strolled into the liquor store. No big deal, it happens all the time in that neck of the woods. The only thing that separated this man from any other man was his co-pilot – a shy, lily of a woman who remained seated in the car waiting patiently for her man to come back. I did a double take, and being a Toronto city slicker at the time, I was a bit taken aback.
The woman in the passenger side of the Vega was a goat.
Go have a yummy, organic meal and crash at Pat's lovely Inn if you don't believe me. He'll back me up!
Which leads me to close with details from another story I found online early this morning after tucking Jack safely into his bed after his all-night road trip from Quebec. It's another true story about a man charged with animal cruelty after being caught making love to his goat. According to the police report, the man admitted "taking the goat to the back of the property to have sex with it, and before doing up his trousers, patting the goat and walking away".
Maybe it was the pat on the ass that ruined the moment for her. Or the fact that he didn't call like he said he would.
Men are like gout weed. You pull and you pull 'til your knees ache and all you get is a pat on the ass to wipe the dirt off and a post-coital ride to the liquor store.
halifaxbroad@gmail.com
The Garrison House is at 350 St. George Street, Annapolis Royal
Phone: 902-532-5750 Toll Free: 1-866-532-5750
www.garrisonhouse.ca
Phone: 902-532-5750 Toll Free: 1-866-532-5750
www.garrisonhouse.ca
