Goodbye, B and B

Friends of ours are leav­ing the province in a cou­ple of days, so we had them over last night, along with our friend John and his kids. We had bar­be­cued chick­en (the bbq looked a litte iffy for a while, but then the rain stopped and the clouds part­ed) and oven-roast­ed pota­toes and a cou­ple of sal­ads.

And alco­hol.

Oh my, what a night that was. I think I was prob­a­bly the most sober of us all (bar­ring the kids, who, at 11 and 8, are inel­i­gi­ble for wine and beer and spir­its, and so they had to get hopped up on Coke, sug­ar cook­ies, and vin­ert­erte).

A good night was had by all, as far as I could tell, but this AM my dar­ling wife, sad to say, is pay­ing the price.

Pho­tos in the full post.

Beth gets a little animated
Beth, telling a sto­ry

The comfy chair...
Byron, trapped in The Com­fy Chair

in vino veritas
John, enjoy­ing his wine

So the sto­ry goes like this:

Byron has worked with me for five years. In fact, he does the job I used to do, back before I became the web­mon­key at the uni­ver­si­ty. He mar­ried Beth and she moved down here too.

Both of them are orig­i­nal­ly from The Rock, aka New­found­land. In fact, Byrorn moved here from New­found­land to start work at the U.

About two months ago, a job post­ing appeared at a uni­ver­si­ty back home in New­found­land. Byron applied for it, had a fif­teen-minute phone inter­view that he thought he’d flubbed, and thought noth­ing more of it.

Three weeks ago, they called him back, ask­ing if they could check his ref­er­ences. That was Mon­day morn­ing. By Mon­day evening he’d accept­ed the job.

It’s a step up in pay, respon­si­bil­i­ty, and job title, and we wish Byron all the best. We’ll miss him, of course, but he’s got­ta do what’s right for him. They’ve got­ta do what’s right for them.

We’ll miss you, Beth and Byron. All the best.

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