Vacation

Meets Expectations


I went into this trip with minimum to non-existent expectations, and I will say that, so far, they have been met.

We got off to a late start. This is not unusual for us. As a matter of fact, the rule of thumb is take the estimated departure time and add two hours for exact time of departure. So I knew when I went to bed Thursday night that we wouldn’t be on the road by eight the next morning, and I was slightly surprised when we left about ten-ish because ED’s car was still in the shop (typical lack of parts on hand turned a couple of days into a week repair) and she was still waiting on it Friday morning. We offered her our other vehicle, but it is a “mom” mobile and she was reluctant. Taking our little truck would have complicated life a bit because the girls would have needed to drive out to our place, leave MK’s car and then reverse the process when they got back.

We were clearing the city – a good 45 minutes from our home – when Rob got a call from ED informing him that she had picked up her car but now MK’s wallet was missing and they were retracing her steps of the previous evening to find it. Failing that they would need to go to the bank to replace her debit card at the least.

The girls finally hit the road as we were eating lunch in Red Deer which was two hours ahead of where they were. An accident on the highway to Calgary forced us onto a smaller highway and Rob just gave up and slowed to a crawl to let the girls catch up. ED was not thrilled about navigating the mountain highway in the dark without dad in the lead. I didn’t blame her. The TransCanada through Rogers Pass is … challenging.

We got to the motel minutes before the night clerk was about to close the office. It was about 11PM Alberta time, but we gained an hour when we crossed into B.C. Still, Rob and I were exhausted. BabyD had slept fitfully in the back seat because I kept her tethered in the seatbelt. I might let her sleep without it on a regular stretch of road in a pinch, but not on the mountain roads.

Revelstoke is a magnet for skiers, snowboarders and people who snowmobile, a typically younger, heavy recreational drinking, smoking crowd. We checked in as they were filtering back from the pubs. You can’t smoke indoors anywhere in B.C. and as a result, people were out on the decks smoking and talking which made it difficult for us to open windows (the room heater was broken and the temperature was 30C-ish) and kept BabyD up for a good half-hour before she fell back to sleep.

Rob and I barely slept at all. Four hours would be my guess. At one point I lay there, sweltering, and listening to some dork try to seduce a drunken girl with his “extreme confidence”:

“I don’t want to brag,” I heard him say but knew that he was about to, “but I am extremely confident. I just am.”

“I can so tell,” little Miss Drunken Thang gushed.

And seriously, that was the conversation for a solid ten minutes until I closed the window – more to save my soul than my lungs from the ciggie smoke. Thankfully, she was either inebriated enough, or just that dumb, that he got her into his room and there was silence (which means he probably wasn’t as “good” as he was “confident”) for a good twenty minutes. Then I heard him asking her if she would like to use the shower first which pretty much sums the experience up for both – from my point of view. And yes, the walls are thin. I took pleasure in turning on the television for BabyD this morning at 7:30 AM. Enough satisfaction that it offset my complete exhaustion.

A bit after midnight, the Bride knocked at the door to tell Rob he was among the chosen to heli up to the mountaintop to witness the ceremony. It was a parents and aunts/uncles thing only beyond the wedding party itself which probably didn’t sit too well with the girls but I didn’t catch their reaction as they were downstairs in another room.

Rob hadn’t planned to go up. He didn’t think he was on that rarefied list but it makes sense that he was asked. He is Shelley’s stand-in. I am so glad that Will’s family and friends don’t see me as a proxy. I don’t think I could live long with that expectation on my shoulders.

So, it’s nearly eleven. Rob is either on his way down the mountain or being driven back to the motel. The girls are asleep because I gather there was drinking until wee-ish hours going on with the cousins and younger members of the wedding party. BabyD and I have walked about, found a bit of brekkie and are back in the room. It’s not raining. Knock wood. And I would like to explore a bit, but the child is too tired to keep up. I am tired too, but my idea of a vacation is not vehicle, room, more vehicle. It’s warmer here than at home and it would be nice to walk even if I can’t quite see straight.

Tonight will likely be a treat, but Rob says we are outta here early (plus two hours) and even better (knock wood again) weather awaits in Penticton.

A Week in Review: August 18th thru the 22nd


Globe and Mail writer, Christie Blatchford, was moaning about blogging and bloggers in Thursday’s paper, so in her honor I have decided to write the most banal of all blogging pieces – the update on my life.

I find “real” writers’ abhorence of blogs and their laments about the decline of “real” writing and journalism amusing. Newspapers long ago succumbed to the tabloidy tricks that placed selling above content. Print will never be able to compete with cable news channels and the Internet for timeliness of delivery, and when it comes to depth of topic, the political blogs have the edge and the freedom. Everything evolves. Just ask Darwin.

Besides journalists with blue-blooded leanings make lousy bloggers anyway.

So read along as I squander my finite word bank* by committing to the blogosphere my “most idle thoughts and mundane obeservations”**

My funked up mood from earlier in the week has cleared up thanks to a near complete abandonment of my schedule. No gym. Late lunches. Later suppers. No manuscript.

I just did as I pleased, and oddly it pleased me to reorganize the bathroom closet and search out the source of the fouler by the day odor in the cabinet where the dry goods are kept. The former is still awaiting final purge approval from the husband and the latter turned out to be a sack of something that had reached the gelatinous stage of decomposition therefore defying labeling attempts by both Rob and I.

I attended writing group on Tuesday evening and managed to be racially offensive to a potential new member of Cree descent. I didn’t do it on purpose but as I was explaining more of my novel to the group after reading the first several pages, I mentioned that one of the stories my main character tells is based on a family story. My grandmother’s great- uncle was the source of much concern when he was a toddler because a local native woman took quite the shine to him and hovered about whenever they ventured into town. The family, like most white immigrant settlers of the time, mistakenly thought she might snatch him. I could see the new member tightening as I told the story – even though I explained its origins and how it fit within my novel. I hate having to weigh words. I hate more that when people are offended they often fume instead of speaking up.

I finalized my writing course picks for the fall. Made out my yoga class schedule.

I prepared a new dish for supper.***

BabyD and I shopped. For her. She is quite the opinionated little clothes pony. While trying on a variety of pants, she jumped, pranced and wiggled – admiring herself in the full-length mirror as she did so. One pair of leggings left her standing completely still and not smiling. When I inquired about this, I was told,

“This pants don’t make me dance, Mom.”

A girl with her priorities straight.

While at the cute children’s clothes boutique, which is actually in The Fort, I overheard the owner mention she was looking for part-time help and I inquired. I nearly danced myself when she asked me to bring in a resume. Until I remembered that I don’t want to work for someone and that I dislike “service” work. Oh, and I am none to fond of the constant flow of humanity in the real world and that I find most things SAHM-ish incomprehensibly dull.

In fact now that I am sounding a bit more mommy-bloggish than I am comfortable with- let’s get back to me, shall we?

All deck work stopped this week. Rob and I are slightly fried around the edges and have just taken a step back from all the reno for this week. Sometimes one needs to surf the web and watch pointless movies in bed.

I got back to contributing at Moms Speak Up. Wrote a piece on Texas teachers being allowed to carry concealed weapons on the job. I won’t go into why this is the worst idea ever but if you knew some of the people I have worked with over the course of two decades, you would just take me at my word. I have yet to meet the educator who hasn’t uttered the phrase “It’s a good thing I wasn’t carrying a gun” at least once in their career – out loud and in the presence of witnesses.

Oh, and I have been reading. A novel.

Finally, I finished tagging my earliest blog posts from mid 2006 until about the time Rob and I started dating. Mostly very depressing widow stuff, but if that kind of thing interests you or you would like to know where I started my blogging journey, I am now easy to search under widowhood or grief. They can also be found under remarriage or long distance relationships or YWBB. Enjoy.

* Michael Farber of Sports Illustrated believes that writers have but a finite number of printable word combinations in them and to blog is to basically piss them to the wind.

** To quote Ms. Blatchford

*** That deserves its own paragraph. I am sure my husband can attest to the wonder of my attempting to expand my meager repertoire.

Two Blog Posts That Found Their Mark – Me


Tag surfer. Totally recommend it.

Found this as I lay for a second day sick and mucousy and it spoke to me. Didn’t hurt that Damyanti had posted earlier that day on much the same thing.

I’ll be gone for the rest of the month – minimum – so aside from Monday Meme’s which are done through the month, and a few other posts I blogged ahead, I won’t post again until I’ve finished some writing projects.

Check your RSS. 

Hope to see you when I get back.