Above: illustration for a story, pencil and ink in a moleskine.
Day 2
I get up early (since I'm not sleeping anyway) and pack the car. I get the feeling this might be a recurring motif. Lead on, my little blonde Pharaoh! I love ancient history! Outside the motel room it's pants weather, or sweater weather, or oh-my-God-this-is-brutal weather. When did July become ghosts and fog? Welcome to Silent Hill! The whole day is like that, this gloom and cold and rain against New Brunswick's endless backdrop of hills and trees. If you enjoy driving up and down, and listening to radio stories about moose fences, then New Brunswick just might be the place for you.
Meanwhile, my guts turn to lead.
We get to Murray Corner around six in the evening and C is only slightly crazy with the cleaning and complaining and worrying and fussing and moving furniture around. What a shame, to see pregnancy slow a girl down like that. I mean, she didn't even mention that the living room rug was "bothering her" until the next morning. Poor dear. (And yes honey, that rug gave me a funny look, too.)
The first few days 'at the shore' are always like this, always this wide-eyed craziness about that which must be done. It's like fussing on steroids. Of course, if we did everything that C wanted, there would be nothing but a cement pad over the entire property ... and then she'd worry about whether it was getting hosed down enough.
Anyway, my main duty is building a big fire so we don't freeze to death.
Day 3
First full day at the cottage. God I feel awful. Still, someone has to go to the store (at seven in the morning) for milk and cream. Outside is an angry child's pastiche of rain against stone-coloured sky. I mean, I know there is an ocean out there, somewhere beyond the front picture window, but for now I'll have to trust the map. Wish I'd had a better sleep but it was one of those nights where C told me how many blankets I needed (read: none). Anyway, who doesn't enjoy cramps?
Later in the morning we go to Amherst to buy real groceries. Back at the cottage, I make us lunch and then try to have a nap. C cooperates by randomly banging things against the walls of the cottage, moving things around, madly trying to exorcise the demons the living room carpet has inflicted upon her. Also, because they were Christians, the last renters have left C a helpful list of all the things they found wrong with the cottage, giving her a nice point of reference for fixating and otherwise making a nice contribution to the general craziness.
C's sister Catherine also has a cottage up the road and after dinner we go over there so Catherine's four year-old daughter can abuse me. Her favourite thing in the world is to be held upside down and then swung from side to side, like the human hand of a clock. The higher the better. Also, she will twist and turn and try to hit me while I swing her. The Chinese are just like that, I guess.
Another fire, another night of rain and big wind but I finally get some sleep.
Day 2
I get up early (since I'm not sleeping anyway) and pack the car. I get the feeling this might be a recurring motif. Lead on, my little blonde Pharaoh! I love ancient history! Outside the motel room it's pants weather, or sweater weather, or oh-my-God-this-is-brutal weather. When did July become ghosts and fog? Welcome to Silent Hill! The whole day is like that, this gloom and cold and rain against New Brunswick's endless backdrop of hills and trees. If you enjoy driving up and down, and listening to radio stories about moose fences, then New Brunswick just might be the place for you.
Meanwhile, my guts turn to lead.
We get to Murray Corner around six in the evening and C is only slightly crazy with the cleaning and complaining and worrying and fussing and moving furniture around. What a shame, to see pregnancy slow a girl down like that. I mean, she didn't even mention that the living room rug was "bothering her" until the next morning. Poor dear. (And yes honey, that rug gave me a funny look, too.)
The first few days 'at the shore' are always like this, always this wide-eyed craziness about that which must be done. It's like fussing on steroids. Of course, if we did everything that C wanted, there would be nothing but a cement pad over the entire property ... and then she'd worry about whether it was getting hosed down enough.
Anyway, my main duty is building a big fire so we don't freeze to death.
Day 3
First full day at the cottage. God I feel awful. Still, someone has to go to the store (at seven in the morning) for milk and cream. Outside is an angry child's pastiche of rain against stone-coloured sky. I mean, I know there is an ocean out there, somewhere beyond the front picture window, but for now I'll have to trust the map. Wish I'd had a better sleep but it was one of those nights where C told me how many blankets I needed (read: none). Anyway, who doesn't enjoy cramps?
Later in the morning we go to Amherst to buy real groceries. Back at the cottage, I make us lunch and then try to have a nap. C cooperates by randomly banging things against the walls of the cottage, moving things around, madly trying to exorcise the demons the living room carpet has inflicted upon her. Also, because they were Christians, the last renters have left C a helpful list of all the things they found wrong with the cottage, giving her a nice point of reference for fixating and otherwise making a nice contribution to the general craziness.
C's sister Catherine also has a cottage up the road and after dinner we go over there so Catherine's four year-old daughter can abuse me. Her favourite thing in the world is to be held upside down and then swung from side to side, like the human hand of a clock. The higher the better. Also, she will twist and turn and try to hit me while I swing her. The Chinese are just like that, I guess.
Another fire, another night of rain and big wind but I finally get some sleep.
I enjoyed reading through these short little happenings of your vacation. You always make me laugh, I love how you see things. Cute pic of you both! C is as cute as a button, she is! I do have to wonder if she enjoys how you describe her to the world?!
ReplyDeleteSheri, to answer your question, I do not enjoy how DJ portrays me to the world, but I take comfort in harassing him about it on a regular basis.
ReplyDeleteAnd that rug really did bother me. It is wool and about 50 years old (no exaggeration). I was trying to do yoga on it, but it was SMELLY. And I think it has greeblies living in it. It needs to go.
No random spammers, please.
ReplyDelete