3 Point Turn Mishaps

We woke up to fog and clouds today, but it was STEAMY hot! 22 degrees at 8am but felt like 30! After I convinced mom to get up, we broke camp and headed into Lunenburg. She picked a restaurant at random when we were walking by and we ate while looking at the Bluenose II. I expected her to be silver like she is on the dime but my expectations were not met.

Our waitress convinced the cook to let me have seafood chowder for breakfast. It was SO good! There was a HUGE mound of seafood covered in a thin cream soup. I expected it to be thick like the one yesterday but it was delightful anyways.

In the late morning we did some souvenier shopping and headed out to start the trip to Yarmouth. Along the way we managed to find a vineyard and went for a wine tasting. It wasn’t very good. The water in the area had a strong Manganese scent and I found that it translated to the wine as well. Mom got some Lavender hand lotion that she loves though, so that was good.

I was beginning to worry that I would not have anything interesting to blog about today.

I needn’t have worried.

About 45 minutes before our estimated arrival time in Yarmouth I decided that I should plug the campground name into the GPS just in case it was before the town and not after it. My GPS is a jerk. Remember back in November when she malfunctioned and Edward Cullen died? Ya… it happened again.

She took me down a goat trail. After about 10 minutes, I realized that there was a problem. Did I mention that we seemed to also be in the middle of a monsoon?

Me- I think we’re going the wrong way.

Mom- You’re good at turning the motorhome around. Just do a two point turn.

(I think they are called three point turns but mom thinks two. Who is right? I don’t know!)

So, I see a driveway around the bend and decide to execute a quick three point turn. It went well until the ground remembered that it was holding a monsoon worth of water and gave way beneath the rear driver side tire sliding me into the ditch. I rocked forward. I rocked backward. I was STUCK. I was also covering one complete lane of the road with a curve on either side.

I got out of the Motorhome, ripped at my hair in the pouring rain, laid across the seat and burst into tears.

I then stared at my phone wondering who to call. Michael seemed like the obvious choice to solve my problems but he would probably worry…

Melissa was at least in the same province. Once she stopped laughing she might be able to tell me who to call, but I had no idea where I was and she was two days away from her wedding and might have better things to do than rescue me from certain death.

So that left 911.

911 lady (Jill) (because it’s short and easy to type)- What’s your emergency?

Me-(totally calmly…) I’ve had an accident and am half in the ditch and half on the road.

Mom in the background- We were not in an accident, you just backed into the ditch.

Jill- Mam, where are you hurt?

Me- I’m not hurt.

Jill- Ok, then I need you to breath for me.

Mom then left the vehicle to flag down traffic on the highway so they would not hit us.

Me- I DON’T EVEN KNOW WHERE I AM!!!

Jill- It’s ok. We can tell through GPS.

GREAT...GPS got me into this mess and suddenly now it works?! (also...I might not understand GPS…)

Jill- Are you sure you aren’t hurt?

Me- I’m just scared.

Jill-What are you scared of?

Me- That my mom is going to die!

Jill- Is she hurt?

Me- No. She’s directing traffic.

Jill assured me that the police and tow truck were on their way and hung up.

I went and joined mom on the side of the road with our Dollar Store Umbrellas. They might have worked in Medicine Hat but were completely useless here. While I was calling Michael, mine flipped inside out and it was the beginning of the end for it. Eventually it was an L shaped tin stick with a nylon bowl on the end that I needed to dump every 30 seconds.

My first words to Michael were- I want to come home! Eventually we got to the place where he was assuring me that it would not cost $7000 to pull the RV out of the ditch. (I’m sorry for scaring you and everyone else at work, honey!)

The RCMP arrived and took over mom’s job. We were both soaked to the skin so they sent us to sit in the truck. When the wonderful tow-truck driver (Johnny) showed up, he was very comforting. He listened to me talk to the police officer and rolled his eyes a bit.

Me- Once the RV is out, would you be able to get me facing the right way?

Stern RCMP (Greg)- No. You need a special license for that.

Me- Um...no you don’t.

Greg- You absolutely do.

Me- You absolutely don’t, actually. There is no way that CanaDream would have rented to me and facilitated insurance if I needed a special license.

Greg- Um well...maybe this is a small one and you don’t need it then. It must be just for the big ones.

Me- Ya...that must be it…

Johnny- (finishes unhooking and walks over to truck) I’ll just drive you out then, Love, a’right?! There’s no use falling apart now! Pull yourself together.

(I may have hugged him against his will…)

He then checked out the undercarriage and assured us that all was well, told us where to get gas, and followed us all the way to the gas station. I love Nova Scotia.

I saw a really cute little black bunny. Unfortunately, he didn’t see me .May he rest in peace (pieces).

Melissa’s dad intends to park the RV for me tomorrow.

Tommy the Troll

Today Mom and I were up by 7 and out on the streets by 8. I didn’t do the math on that till just recently. In Alberta time that means we were up by FOUR AM and on the harbour looking at ships by FIVE!

We saw so much! It has been a whirlwind. We went to a Maritime museum, walked the boardwalks, had a fancy lunch, got limo service to the RV center in a cushy Towne Car, got our motorhome, hung out at Peggy’s Cove, had lobster at the Shore Club in Hubbards, and made it to Lunenberg where we have seen nothing because it is SO DARK HERE!!!!

Mom is already snoozing and I just wanted to write a quick little something.

I’m sure glad I did my hair today. It looked soft and pretty for about 17 minutes. Humidity sucks.

The lady at the RV centre was sure to point out the sticker beside the steering wheel that says - CAUTION- HEIGHT 3.7 METRES! We were literally 8 minutes from the CANADREAM when i had to slam on the brakes because I realized the height of the little toll booth onto the bridge that I was seconds away from was 3.6m. A VERY nice man that we’ll call Tommy the Troll (because I imagine him as a very kindly troll living under the bridge collecting tolls from people trip-tropping over) stopped the traffic and made everyone move so I could get into the correct lane. He is our hero of the day and I wasn’t mortified at all...honest.

I don’t think I’m coming home. I will need to grow my hair really long and let it be wild, but oh... my heart might live here. Michael...pull up stakes and meet me at Peggy’s.

Can Fish, Will Fly

I have been feeling pretty stressed about this whole Nova Scotia trip without Michael, but yesterday the rubber hit the road and I decided that it was time to relax because I had done all that I could do to prepare and needed to just start enjoying it. I was feeling pretty proud of myself for having the foresight to book a direct flight to Halifax, because if I had doubts about Michael and I navigating the Pearson in Toronto, then FOR SURE mom and I couldn’t do it. We are both highly anxious and don’t really pay attention so I felt like that was $60 well spent. Ahem.

We pulled into Calgary last night, the 25 of September and shared a yummy Olive Garden dinner, took our sleeping pills and were off to dreamland by 10pm. I woke up in the morning refreshed and ready to go, only to realize that it was 11.57pm. Thankfully, I was able to get back to sleep. I had provided mom with earplugs so that she wouldn’t have to hear me in the off case that I snored…

She missed the wake up call so I gently woke her up by tapping her on the tip of her nose. She can sure jump! She paid me back by using aerosol deodorant. I had the worst asthma type attack I’ve ever had and I was sure thankful when we found an inhaler!

We shuttled to the airport and made it through check in and security lickety split! The only glitch was that they took our grapefruit segments away because they were packed in juice and over the legal limit. You never know what two flatlanders armed with citrus are capable of.

Just as we were about to start boarding, the gate attendants reminded us all to get out our identification and make sure they were up to date and that the names matched exactly. To fly within Canada you need either one piece of Canadian photo ID or 2 other government issued IDs. I had texted mom and reminded her to bring her Driver’s license but she was already in
Regina when she got the message and had brought her passport along so it was no big deal that she had left her license in her other purse... until she pulled out the passport.

Me- Mom! Your passport is expired.

Mom- Hahaha. It doesn’t expire till 2017!

Me- Um…it IS 2017. We had better go talk to the desk agents.

They informed us that we would not be getting on that flight but not to worry! There was one leaving in just under two hours that had a little bitty layover in Toronto. Again, not to worry though...we would arrive in Terminal B and also depart from Terminal B. All we needed to do was go to Cabella’s and pick up a Fishing License. Say what? Ya… a fishing license is valid Canadian ID THAT THEY USED HER EXPIRED PASSPORT TO VERIFY AND ISSUE. (because THAT makes all the sense in the world)

So we grabbed a cab and Ranjeet assured us that he would wait for us with our carry-on baggage (our checked luggage was already on the plane enroute to Halifax...non stop of course). Imagine the pickle we would have been in if he had taken off! You better believe I snapped a pic of his plate before we went inside.

We got up to the license area and the nice girl there immediately recognized our frazzled appearance and said-
I can see you need a fishing license for a flight but our license issuing software is down.

There was a Canadian Tire right next door so rather than hang myself, she suggested I call them and see if they were having the same issue while she called the Licensers to see if they could help. Canadian Tire came through and my mom is now the proud possessor of a one year Alberta Fishing License. She should get seconds of use and enjoyment out of it.

Ranjeet hustled us back to the airport while regaling us with the story of the reams of paperwork he had to do to come over from India. Fascinating Ranjeet, but can you please just drive like you would back home and get us back to the dang airport? Tick Tock!

We got to skip the check in line and go straight to security for my second x-ray of the day. I set off the sensors because of my hip so I bypass and go straight through the machine.  The cutie that was escorting me to the machine asked if I would like the pat down or the scan. I looked him up and down and since my Mom didn’t raise no fools, I chose the pat down. He blushed and informed me that it would not be him that did the patdown but rather Ranjeet’s cousin. She was a handsome woman with an enviable gal-stache, but in the interest of getting to the gate on time, I chose the scan in the end.

Our seat mate on the flight was a hoot! I think he looked like a Jason so that’s what we’ll call him. He joked mom right out of her funk with hilarious well timed jibes about her fishing career and us being lost in the wilds of Nova Scotia forever. I’m also 87% certain that he was an air-marshal. It was a fun flight and he blocked people to get us off the plane which almost worked except that he wandered past us when we were lost for about 3 minutes. As far as he knows, we now live at the Toronto airport.

The Calgary gate ladies were awfully nice, but they don’t know the first thing about the Toronto Airport. Gate B is about 12 km long. And we had to hustle the whole way. We lost a lot of time waiting on the tarmac for an open spot to park the plane. (My aviation terminology is stunning, eh!)

We did make it to our connection with sweat pouring down our necks and had another lovely seatmate that I will call Gale. She lives in Digby, NS, and gave us some great tips!

Our luggage was well rested and hanging out waiting for us at the West Jet booth when we got into the airport. Our driver, who we’ll call Robert, (because I can’t read what he wrote on his card) was amazingly well versed in the history of the area and inspired me to try to get to the museum tomorrow morning where there is tons of really wonderful Titanic memorabilia that was picked up by the ships that went out to collect the bodies of the deceased. All of the lost souls that were recovered from Titanic are buried in Halifax.

Many thanks to Ranjeet, Jason, Gale, and Robert for making what could have been a really stressful day into one where we laughed and learned and had a generally good time.

Mom- I’m proud of how calm you stayed. (on the outside anyway!) I’m so glad you came with me, and one little glitch just makes for great Blog Fodder! If this is the worst thing that happens on this trip, we’re golden!

Camping With Mom and Ultrasounds With Brenda

I just spent hours writing a blog post. I tried to preview and edit it and then…disaster.

It’s. All. Gone.

It was Witty. Sassy. Comedic Gold. Gold, I tell you. Verging on platinum.

However...

In it I did blame someone. I cast blame on a situation involving a person not treating my husband the way that they would like to be treated in turn. Perhaps in doing so, I did the exact same thing and maybe for that reason it is good to start fresh. It's food for thought.

I wanted to I write this new blog post as a way to get back into Logging. No, blogging. I'm not logging anything computer. I just switched over to using Google Chrome Docs to write. I did it for the reason that it saves every few minutes so I don't have to worry about losing the whole bloomin' thing again. I discovered that I can use voice to text and I don't have to type. This. Is. Fabulous. Except that I don't know how to make it go back and delete a word so blogging clearly turns into logging. I think I'll just call it writing instead of blogging. Or work on my annunciation. Perhaps that would be easier.

Michael and I started planning a trip to Nova Scotia back in January. My dear friend Melissa got engaged and asked me to be the Oldest Living Bridesmaid. Michael was asked to be the wedding photographer. We were so excited! I even rented a camper van! More about that later..,

Recently, things went amok and Michael is no longer able to come on the trip with me. We are very disappointed but after exhausting every option we had to call it and make other arrangements.

I asked my mom if she would consider going with me and she jumped at the chance to take a trip with her favorite kid. (Read: after several days of waffling back and forth and even trying to convince me to take my her 87 year old mother instead, she finally decided to put on her big girl panties, pack up her essential oils and embark on an adventure with her flaky eldest daughter.)

Remember how I rented a camper van? Yeah... that becomes a problem. In retrospect, I probably wouldn't have rented it had I been planning to take the trip with my mom instead of my husband. Michael and I really enjoy camping together. We wanted to relive some memories of the big trip that we took and the many beaches that we camped on. It loses a little something when you have to talk your mother into sharing the one bed in the camper van with you. (Let's keep in mind that I have irritable bowel syndrome, lactose intolerance, and a propensity for nudity-especially while sleeping.) Diane is one LUCKY lady. It seemed like such a good idea at the time to eschew hotel and rental cars in favor of one vehicle that serves the purpose of both transportation and shelter. I was really happy to not need to be packing up every morning and lugging suitcases to and from different hotels every day! No-one ever sleeps well the first night in any hotel and we will not be in the same area for longer than one night anytime except for the day of the wedding.

I decided a couple of days ago that I should call and check on my reservation. It turns out that being super cheap, I had taken the package where you don't actually know which vehicle you are going to end up in until the afternoon that you actually pick your RV up. The only thing that I now know for sure is that we will NOT be getting the camper van. We will be getting either a 25 or 27 foot little motorhome.

On the plus side, it has two beds! The downside Is that although I am not afraid to drive it at all, I AM afraid to park it! What happens if I need to parallel park a motorhome? Is that even a thing?  

Mom claims she is neither driving nor navigating. Pray for us. Pray hard. This trip will probably lead to many good stories, but they could be dicey in the making.

FUN FACT: Although we are both experienced RV'ers, Mom and I have never emptied the poop tank. (It's clearly a Blue Job.) Have you ever watched the Robin Williams movie RV? If not, load it up and give it a watch. When you reach The Scene (you will know which one I mean) maybe consider REALLY praying that some Poop Tank Angels come down with their Industrial Strength Rubber Gloves and give us a hand. Maybe not a LITTERAL hand....because, ew...but some help none-the-less.

I also talked the rental company into giving us two free convenience packages. This means we won't need to run around purchasing camping supplies in Nova Scotia. It would have been really inconvenient not have the convenience packages...I love a good play on words. (I realize this was not one.)

Yesterday, I popped in to visit a friend at her work. We had a rather uncomfortable conversation there.

When girls get to a certain age they tend to need ultrasounds for less exciting reasons than we do in younger years. My friend and I have both needed such ultrasounds in the recent past. In both cases it caused tears.

Her mom cried because she has a very real case of Granny Fever and thought that perhaps her dreams were about to be realized. They are not.

My daughter cried because she has a very real case of not wanting to admit that her parents enjoy each other in a physical way and not wanting another sibling. One of her dreams will be realized. She will not be getting any more siblings.

Unfortunately for both my friend and I, there were issues in receiving a traditional ultrasound and we had to move on to the internal type. In case you've never been privy to an internal ultrasound, let me fill you in.

The technician applies an actual condom and a large amount of lubricating gel to a wand that is inserted in your nether regions and used to explore your Lady Bits. It is invasive and uncomfortable. It is also highly humiliating to have another person insert a wand into your most private areas and slide it in and out and twist it all around. I'll just leave that here for you to ponder...

Having this procedure done left me with a few questions:

1. Do ultrasound technician actually receive any anatomy lessons while they are in school?
2. Is it inappropriate to question how high of a standing in the graduating class your ultrasound technician received?
3. Why would anyone giving an internal ultrasound think that preserving my dignity was at the top of my priorities list? Because it's not. I want you to strap a Miner's light to your forehead and get under that sheet with me. I have three children and I have pooped myself in public. (The IBS, remember.) I have no dignity left to preserve. None. Zero.
4. Has anyone ever told you even once that saying "Just take a deep breath and relax" was helpful? If they did they are dirty dirty liars. Thank you Brenda. I didn't even think of just taking a deep breath and relaxing. Being an uptight control freak has worked so well for me in all of my previous Medical Treatments that I thought I would just continue down that road for this one as well, but I see now that your way might be better.
5. What did you think I meant when I yelled "WRONG HOLE" three times in quick succession and scooted off of the head of the bed like a cat getting a worm pill? For future reference, anyone who says that is ALWAYS sure that yes, it is indeed the wrong hole. I have never taken an anatomy class in my life, but even I know that that particular route is not the off-ramp to the uterus.
6. Was it because of  my experience in your cubicle that my friend was handed the magic wand and told to just pop it in herself so that you could have a little look-see?

These are most of my questions. In the interest of causing as little offense as possible I will not  try to think of any more.

Think of me while I'm traveling Nova Scotia.

Think of my Mom, too. Pray that she has patience. Apparently, I can be a bit much. (No, really!)

Also, think of me when you're getting an internal ultrasound. It will take your mind off things and help you to just relax like Brenda advises.