Deaner the Dreamer

Have you ever met a guy whose biggest crime was how good-looking he was? Oh you know Dean too? Angel face aside, the man has a contagious love for life and does a great job of living his. He is a magnet for others who do the same. Deaner is a professional surfer, a supportive crew boss & a warm host who has a lucky horseshoe stuck up his cute angel butt. For a snippet of his skills, watch this video.

Dean Petty is arguably Nova Scotia’s proudest import. Originally born in Amuhrica, he has chosen to lay down his roots up here with us. He recently bought an oceanfront property in Cow Bay & invited his friends to help him smash out the inside of the new house. He taught me the most effective way to use a sledgehammer and how to rock the tablesaw without flinching. Thank you Deaner for always making the people around you feel valued, appreciated & welcome. It means a lot to have you here. I can’t wait to see how this project unfolds and what will come next. Keep living your dreams.

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Katie Heindl described the day best – and most eloquently – in her piece featured in Total Bozo Magazine.

Four baby raccoons fell out of the ceiling into mounds of old insulation piled on the floor while the mother yowled from the newly bared beams and the swells of the Atlantic grew huge behind us. I wasn’t dressed for a demo but still, I held a sledgehammer. Punching out support beams at their base so they swung, like those narrow padded punching bags in a funhouse, from the ceiling. We yanked them down and threw them from the second storey deck, sawed them, hauled them down to the cliff with the tractor and set them on fire. The sky the kind of overcast that goes out for hours your eyes can’t differentiate. He was so proud, his chest stuck out amidst the rubble we were making. Smile under his dust mask so big it made the edges ride up to his eyes, the blue of them showing in slits, the blue of them the same colour as the barn he now owned, so lopsided we had to stay out of the one side of it or it’d tip. Your heart rate slows near the ocean, there’s proof. It sits back on it’s haunches and gets humbled, same as you. It’s roar-turned-tremor and moors of the moans it lashes tight cast off into the swell. I took an axe, I drove the tractor, I pumped the keg and ripped out walls with my bare hands and thought here, to own land at the very edge of all east, at least there was one place we could all wash up. The barn stood shoddy and I knew we stood the same and like everything, our foundation was shifting into the sea.
grabbed from buenolife

yoinked from buenolife’s insta


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