Chronicles of Love

a letter…

Dear Vacationer,

No one should care how long it takes you to get from point A to point B, except you. I know I shouldn’t have to, but I do. Especially when you are driving an old ’74 RV that tops out at 85 KM/hr and your license plate says something along the lines of “Big Momma”. I know you are on holidays, but did you factor your driving time into your two week holiday or are you serious about taking a year and a half to cross Canada?

Perhaps next time our paths cross you could try to remember: If you continually ignore the readily available pullouts on the side of the road, if you insist on driving 20-40 KM below the posted speed which may or may not be 90, if you hit a straight stretch and try to gun it so that you may pick up speed YOU WILL ONLY GAIN a line up of pissed off drivers behind you that can’t pass. My advice to you, kind sir, will please us both (and the rest of the world driving the same road as us). How about you spend your vacation in the comfort of your RV… IN YOUR DRIVEWAY! You’ll save on gas, I promise!

The 11th Vehicle Behind You For The Last Half Hour


Anyways. My left hip hurts. I distinctively remember my first wasp bite, outside a Safeway in The Chuck. I surprised him as I leaned over a tailgate to pour a fresh bag of ice into a cooler and he bite me hard. After years of freakishly running away at the first buzz or completely comatosing myself and moving nary a muscle until they left my vicinity, I had finally got the dreaded first bite. How depressing; I was attempting a record, you know. Well, I can officially add Bite #2 to the list now. I went with Boon yesterday to The Little Big City and somewhere along the way a black wasp was unfortunate enough to slam into our windshield. I would have been “happy” to know that another useless wasp was dead, but I didn’t know. Oh no. That little Bugger ended up in the truck, wedged between my leg and my seat, still alive. Oh yes. He waited there patiently for who knows how long. He wanted me to move my leg at some point so that he could take a chunk out of my skin. Yep. I screamed. I swatted him onto the floorboard. I cried. Boon, with one hand on the wheel, came to my rescue and hit him about 10 times with my sandal. For the remainer of the trip, I thanked Boon for purchasing that Iced Cappuccino and also for not drinking it all so I’d have something to ice the bite with. I really really really don’t like wasps if you couldn’t tell already and I’m not ashamed to say it. In fact, at the next stop we made, I wanted to get that wasp out of the truck so he’d stop looking up at me accusingly. When I flipped him over onto a peice of paper the little Bugger wasn’t even dead. Boon folded that paper over and stomped all over it until that wasp was not only in Wasp Heaven, but was sent there by Express.

And so; it’s me and Stan again until Boon returns. My days of boating and more boating will now be replaced by work and more work. It wasn’t that long ago that I picked Boon up (he was off for 12 whole days) and now he’s back at it again. At least we had 12 days and not the forecasted 6 and at least the weather was great while he was home. With all this inside desk stuff I have planned I have vowed to take at least one day to myself and hang on the beach. I also have a few posts to backwrite (events of the last few days) and a whole slew of pics to throw up onto flickr.

Sorry for the prolonged absence, InnerNets, but if you a) remember what our lake looks like and b) saw the weather we have been having here and c) could imagine how much I love my fella, I’m sure you would forgive me. What do you say?

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