TubaOrNotTuba

Today was my first visit to the “pound” as it was called when I was younger. A refuge, according to the sign on the door, where for a fee, one could adopt a new family member. Then, the trip out back, with stern warnings to wash (actually, spread a gelatinous cream) between touchy-feelie sessions. There they are; the orphans, all being as polite (and noisy) as possible, in hopes of getting a better accommodation and meal plan. The poor one that “hurls” when left outside. The one that tends to play beaver around a house. The one that looks ready to head on down the road at the first opportunity. The one that wants to play kissy with everyone (strange behaviour; guess mother didn’t discuss how to deal with strangers).

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Today was the return leg of our trek, so after a goodbye to my family and “Hola Blanca” we were out of the city (past the MURF-to-be site with its two metre soil cap and test wells). Before turning east, we stopped to buy pop and granola bars in a “NO Frills” grocery outlet in Whitby. Shopping carts for rent, pay for your bags at a nickel a throw, the currency checked to see that it wasn’t counterfeit; this was not my idea of the friendly neighbourhood grocer.

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The time we spent shopping in the “Mall” was fun. A chance to go to an unfamiliar bookstore. Shopping for nothing at all in the various electronic centres. Really good Japanese-style stirfry, on a grill so new it still shone; the food will be even better once they bake it black. We tried to buy pop in the local “not really a wholesaler” outlet, but I couldn’t justify buying that many of anything. In the evening, with a production line of Reuben’s out of the way, the group decided to go for industrial quantities of chicken wings. We’d already consulted the menu on the web, but when you see takeout trays filled with such flavours as “Parmesan Garlic”, “Dill Pickle”, “Ranch” and “Brown-eyed Girl”, the idea of buffalo takes a 180 down the ramp.

The whole day has gone by and I haven’t even been outside. New house, new dog, some new people. Too many new sensations to waste time on a place with less snow and similar air. I’m not in Kansas anymore, so why not sit back and enjoy “la difference”. Different content (in a minor sense) on the TV. Did I mention a new dog? Anyhow, we’re on vacation and there is no reason to force a schedule. If tomorrow gives me a reason to go outside, so be it. Meantime, I’ll try to find out why the wireless connection keeps dropping out, and if the phone rings, it won’t be for me.

The whole of the daylight period today was spent in intense family time; locked in the van while we drove cross-country to spend further intense family time. The musical mix was eclectic.

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We should have been “en route” by now, but group dynamics came into play. One might have an exam, another needed maintenance, another is incoherent while sleep-deprived. Anyhow, the daylight hours are gone, another quick meal is in the prep stages, and the idea of driving all night seems to have caught only my interest. The oil has been changed, so that part of the polynomial equation has been cancelled (so that’s what those endless hours in math class were all about. Who knew?)

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Oscar has our attention, for this evening. So many familiar faces, so many well-crafted humourous remarks, so many movies I haven’t seen.

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Fix it, I mean. One thing about living in a house is that there are endless possibilities for education, in the voc-tech sense. If you haven’t had a chance to learn primitive carpentry, plumbing, electricity, etc. there’s no need to despair; the occasion is probably only a weekend away.

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I had the enriched childhood of a band member; in this case, concert band and all its variations. That my childhood was also enriched by good music is parallel to that.

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Well, it happened. Sir Cousin Paul and his wife have arrived in Charlottetown. VIP treatment in PEI style; the plane let them off a few metres short of the main door so they could go in through the baggage area.

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