Confessing

He wanted to check.  Right before we left Timmins, he thought we should check.  I told him it would be too much hassle to unpack the van, and open the tent.  Of course the pegs were there.  I was right.  Setting up the tent at our campsite by the sea, I found the pegs right away.  It was the poles that were missing.

Another Saturday Post Not About Books

I thought I would write about my summer reading today.  Instead, I planned a car rally (also known as a wild high speed scavenger hunt race around town in cars).  Our ward (also known as a congregation) has had one each year for awhile and I have planned the last two (also known as last year's and tonight's).  Car rallies have a zany energy.  There's a hum as people start to arrive, and then a quiet listening to instruction, and then a mad dash for the cars, and then silence, and then excitement and rush as people come running in with ice cream toppings and puzzles and photographs and stories. 

"I did a handstand on home plate!"

"Do we get extra points for finding two red shoes?"

"We had to kick some kids off the teeter totter!"

"I still have sand in my socks."

"I made sure they had their feet off the ground."

My vacation was a bit like that--all booting it across town, seven of us in a minivan, and sunrise solitary swimming the misty lake, and jumping in the waves with my crew, and barefoot walking the beach while they slept.

My life is like that too--breaking up raucous quarrels, and silent snuggles and laughing hard at armpit noises (my husband's), and blogging in a sleeping house.

Home

We are back from our vacation.  We left for Nova Scotia two and half weeks ago, and returned to Timmins two days ago.  It was such a thorough vacation--extended family, dear friends, old haunts--that I'm actually happy to be back.  It was that glorious.  I don't even mind the cool weather, or the cold I caught, or the multiple injuries I'm still nursing--a burned toe (campfires are hot), a bruised calf (canoes are tippy), a scratched arm (suitcase zippers are dangerous), a sliced finger (wires protruding from a balding tire are sharp), and a tender nose (sometimes husbands stand up quickly).  I'm just plunging back into our life here--my choir starts up again on Tuesday, Jared returns to work tomorrow, I'm putting together a car rally for my church for this weekend, the school books are arriving in the mail, and I'm knitting scarves and unpacking boots. 

At night, I dream of the ocean.  And I left the sand in the suitcases.  But I'm here now.

Wi Wove Wou, Wofu Wandwich

I have loved this tofu sandwich for almost fifteen years.  I would eat it everyday if it lived next door.  It doesn't.  It lives at The Good Food Emporium in Halifax.  For this sandwich, I walked across town regularly during my first year or two of university.  I dreamed when I moved away.  I got a parking ticket when I came for a visit.  I pressed my nose against the glass when the restaurant happened to be closed every time I was in town for the next ten years.  I snuck around the Harbour twice last week while on vacation.  And once, several years ago, I made a complete fool of myself. 

It's just that it had been so long.  And the restaurant was finally open.  And I was excited.  I walked right up to the counter, "I would like a tofu sandwich, please."  Only, the server didn't say, "Which bread would you like," or even, "Shall I pack that up for you?"  He said, "Oh, it's Saturday.  We don't serve tofu sandwiches today."  I wasn't quite prepared, you see.  It just slipped out.  Loudly.  "Are you kidding?  I have been trying to eat this sandwich for ten years!"  We were both a little shocked then.  He spoke first, "Just one minute."  When he returned from the kitchen many minutes later, he had good news, and a grin, "He's going to make you a tofu sandwich."  I babbled a little while we waited, "I'm so sorry!  I wasn't intending...I don't usually...I didn't mean to be pushy."  And that guy handed me my sandwich and said, "You were not pushy.  I was pushy on your behalf."  I thanked him.  I tipped him.  And I found a bench with a view on which to eat my lunch.

Here We Go

Usually on Fridays, I write about a fun activity I found on pinterest.  This week, instead of doing something neat with my children, I did laundry, and laundry, and laundry.  It was a demanding, full-time, around-the-clock job.  But it had to be done.  I just can't take this family of mine to Nova Scotia without clean clothing.  So, this is more of an apology than a blog post, but I'm sure that seven people in a minivan travelling thousands of kilometres will generate many interesting stories...and loads of laundry.