This is likely our last night in the suburban DC area for this trip. We head on to North Carolina, back up to Norfolk and then spend the remaining time at the Delaware beach house.

Other than our trip to the zoo, it looks like we will not make it into DC again. No Mall, no museums, no monuments… none of the stuff people ALWAYS see when they visit this area.

Is that weird?

We did live here for over six years… So, I have seen all that stuff. But the miscreants haven’t in quite some time. Certainly not at ages where they might actually enjoy these sights. I mean, who homeschools… and travels to only miles from the centre of the world US capital… and doesn’t visit all the stuff that everyone actually comes here specifically to see?! Who?!?

But the sad fact is, other than our trips up to Bethesda to visit with SIL and her kids, I’ve enjoyed hunkering out here in the burbs, south of the beltway, tucked away off the infamous ‘mixing bowl’, the labyrinthine maze of lanes and over-passes that is the junction of 495 and 95.

I mean, really… it’s scary out there people. Particularly for one now so accustomed to life back in the sticks, nestled in the cold, solitary safety of the Canadian Rockies. Braving the rushing traffic, road rage and over-priced parking is now only a little overwhelming. And so… rather than the Jefferson and Washington Monuments, I’ve been to two local Targets. And rather than The Mall, make it Trader Joes! OMG… I would give my husband’s left nut for a Trader Joe’s! And rather than the Natural History Museum, Sally and I hit cheap $2 Tuesday and IronMan at the movies- alongside every kid this side of the Potomac!

But we’ve also been to Baltimore. Not DC… but Baltimore. We had to drop hubby at the train for his quarterly trip to his office in Wilmington. Baltimore… where we enjoyed three hours at the aquarium amongst a thousand rabid Red Sox fans with time to kill pre-game. The Baltimore Aquarium is way cool, but for the love of Pete, does there have to be a friggin’ crowd every where we go?!?

Honestly, there are people everywhere!

Today. Today… why, Costco, of course.  Really, who doesn’t need 3 kilos of Frosted Flakes and 36 rolls of t.p. when travelling?! And the APPLE STORE!… where hopefully, with the promise of some dutiful, yet eager, wifely servicing, I will be rewarded with some form of Apple product. Truly, I do believe I could get used to the suburban life a little too easily.

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The subject of this weeks Best Shot Monday is just downright spooky. We are here in Northern Virginia visiting hubby’s family. His sister has recently been diagnosed with breast cancer and only last week began her very aggressive chemotherapy treatment. When the chemo is over she will lose a breast.

After managing their way through the trial of the diagnosis, the information gathering and the just plain old life changing nature of the experience in a very short time, she is now feeling for the most part lousy from the chemo. She will lose her fertility and her hair. But with this most aggressive treatment her prognosis is good.

Here’s the deal. She’s turning 40 next month. She’s married. She has three kids, ages 6, 3 and not yet 2. She has a tremendous fight ahead of her. I don’t know that she quite has her head around what lies before her, I don’t know that anyone would… or could. But she is keeping a fabulous attitude. She smiles. She laughs. She is moving forward with incredible strength, grace and humour.

She’ll shave her head on Wednesday. And in anticipation of that event she asked me to shoot a portrait. The quintessential ‘before‘. She rallied, gussied, put on a smile and sat by a tree nearby her home. Despite being tired, feeling sick and emotionally exhausted!

In honour of all those battling this disease and my dear SIL, with a big shout out to Caring Bridge, where she shares this ordeal with family, friends and others- a mother, wife, daughter, sister, friend- a superhero….

funny…

generous…

alive…

loyal…

loving…

vibrant…

joyous…

strong.

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We spent an afternoon at the zoo. National Zoo. Downtown Washington, DC. I do enjoy a good zoo… and National is top o’ the heap… cuz, y’know, it’s like, free. If you don’t count the $20 bucks for parking.

Anyhoo. We get to the zoo every time we visit the in-law family on the east coast. This year, in an effort to let SIL rest, we took her kids, too. The cousins. Three. Ages 6, 3 and almost 2. Along with our own miscreants. Six kids, Filipes and I. Thankfully she had the foresight to pack snacks and drinks. For six kids. Because, we packed NOTHING! And while conscientious, organized SIL handed us a cooler pack full of afternoon at zoo sustenance, all husband and I could do was look at each other sheepishly, while pulling one another’s heads out of our respective asses. I mean, who plans to take six freakin’ kids for an afternoon at the zoo in 90 degree heat and packs NOTHING?!?! Perhaps we figured we’d spend a fortune on hotdogs, french fries and pop…. or maybe just get ‘em jacked up on over-priced lemonade and cotton candy. Or perhaps, just perhaps, we did not think at all…. But, I digress. Off to the zoo….

Mr. Gorilla Cranky-Pants…

See… just not in the mood for company…

And nothing but ass…

More Cranky-Pants… Orangutan style. Regarding his adoring public with disdain…

And some pretty- stinky!- flamingos!

Shnoooort…. Schnuuuurzzzzzzzz…. Schnuuuuuuuuummph…

Zzzzzzzzzzzz…. urcccchh…. huuuunnngh…. zzzzzzzzzzzz……

And along with the animals of course….

The girlies….

The challenge of the water fountain….

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Well, two full days on the road… a fast though tearful goodbye to my sweetest of four-legged companions… hours spent answering endless variations of the question, “how much longer…” and a monstrous Costco pizza. Despite feeling completely bloated after eating it, I must thank the wondrous yet excessive entity that is Costco, as said pizza sustained us through the entire following day of nothing but salted peanuts!

And so, here we are. Deep in the hot, steamy belly of America. Only miles from the centre of the universe capital of the United States. And so far, so good. We were upgraded in our rental car after all. What was to be five of us crammed into a medium sized sedan, is now five of us cruising in a medium sized SUV.

Three rows of seating, paple! All is right with the world.

After some visiting and dinner we were pretty much ready to crash. I opted for room upstairs with Fidge. And a fan. The boys and husband opted for the ’sleeping porch’.  And dear MILlie.

Yes, given the choice: upstairs with your wife… or out on the porch with your mother…. Hmmmmmmm.

You do the math….

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Well, our week with MILlie has been a wonderful one. And it draws to a close this evening. Her travelling companions are really terrific and honestly provide a much-needed and entertaining buffer between myself and dear MILlie.

They have come. Relaxed. Hot springed. Golfed. Shopped. Hiked. Relaxed. And yes, despite the rough beginnings, were all bloody thrilled at my Rocky Mountain Sunshine Tour: 10 hours sightseeing… north, through our Columbia Valley… up to the summit of Kicking Horse, at almost 8000 feet with an amazing grizzly sighting, Kicking Horse Pass to Lake Louise where the lake was, of course glorious and shopping, thankfully fruitful, and Free. Valet. Parking. I like to think it was my fresh, sun-kissed complexion and the fact I was wearing no bra, but I believe, more accurately, it was just such a clusterfuck, the exhausted young valet just wanted to be rid of yet another vehicle full of old people…. whatever. Free. Valet. Parking.

And so… we prepare for our own trip. To MILlies. Yes. You read correctly. We now go to her house. It’s just a matter of strange timing this year that her trip up here should fall only a matter of two days before our trip down there. So from Canadian Rockies, we head south to northern Virginia. Hello humidity!

Anyways, my trust in the universe has come through yet again. We have been mulling over what to do with the Sweet HoneyBeast for weeks. We are going to be gone three weeks. Bottom line: husband did not want to spend upwards of $20 a day on a kennel/pet resort/doggie spa for our mostest faithful of companions. Apparently he has incredible trust in the capacity of the universe to provide… because what the hell else were we going to do with our precious family pet?!?! Other than bring her with us. So, I’ve been researching. And stalling. While it is a dream to take my doggie to the in-law-family Delaware beach house… she would be friggin’ over the moon there… I could not bring myself to subject her to the trauma of the flight.

The question of the dog has been mind-crushingly distracting and demoralizing. In amongst our hectic pre-holiday entertaining, work and other busy-ness, a big, black, furry, drooling weight bearing down harder with each passing day. Until this past week. When our friends/neighbors/local business owners Foreign Workers arrived. Thank you BC government and your foray into the trade of human commodities! And while I will without doubt remain skeptical of this program, bringing workers in from abroad(primarily Latin America and the Philippines), for two year stints, as they leave young families, educations and professions to come to our fair province to work menial labour, trying to make a better life…. we will do a little bit to help as this group of three lovely young Filipinos- two men and a woman (parents, each)- have a nice place to stay in their transition, while also knowing our HoneyBeast is getting good care… in her own home.

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This has been one helluva day. A great day, but Julie McCoy I ain’t. I did, however, successfully transport two senior citizens, one middle-aged woman and three miscreants hither, dither and yon in a matter of, oh… merely ten hours. While I will have pics up in a post to come- I’m just not up to it right now- the day began something like this:

8:00- Gulp last of second cup of coffee.

8:25- Miscreants are hair brushed, clean clothed and out the door and buckled into what is a CLEAN Honda Odyssey. No, I did not forget to mention that teeth were brushed. Teeth decidedly NOT brushed. But we’re out the door ready to pick up remaining party at timeshare condo for 8:30. Teeth-schmeeth….

8:40- Two senior citizens- one being visiting MIL, heretofore referred to respectfully as MILlie- and middle aged companion in CLEAN car and buckling up, on way to…

8:47- Quaint, local coffee shop ordering necessary sustenance. Coffeecoffeecoffeecoffeecoffeecoffeecoffeegingersnap. Ahhhhh……

8:52- Smiling, content, coffee and gingersnap in hand, on my way out the door of quaint, local coffee shop I hear distinct and so-very-familiar blood-curdling caterwaul of my miscreants.

8:53+5secs- Opening automatic door of mini-van to see middle aged woman staring a-gawk as my two boys proceed to tear out each other’s hair by the roots while gnawing off one another’s fingers into nothing more than bloody little stumps. Screeching in a way that can only be described as otherworldly. Middle-aged woman stares a-gawk.

8:54- In an uncharacteristic display of restraint I immediately recover from my shockannoyancefrustrationbloodyeyedangerandragehumiliationembarassment at my children’s complete and total lack of self-control and decency and order them out of the vehicle. Voice calm but dripping in quiet maniacal fury.

9:55- Take boy miscreants over to furthestmost corner of small parking lot and scream my bloody fool head off, threatening torture, bodily harm and no freezies again, EVER explain to them calmly and rationally how absolutely inappropriate and disappointing their behaviour is.

10:00- Reassemble at the van, and as I silently offer myself effusive praise for controlled and effective parenting, buckle everyone in. Again. Glare meaningfully once more at offending miscreants. Two senior citizens, one being dear, blissfully clueless, MILlie, secure themselves once again in mini-van.

10:01- Middle aged woman conspicuous in her silence. I give an exhausted sigh. Gulp coffee. Slam van in reverse. Highway. North. Destination: A mere nine hours, thirty more minutes of valley, sight-seeing, family fun!

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My sister’s oldest child, SoyBean. And Zip. In the woods.

Bright and beautiful. I miss my sister…. Hey Mango!

There’s more Best Shots over at Mother May I….

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Passions are vices or virtues to their highest powers. -Johann Wolfgang Von Goethe

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Understand that I did, in fact, have hair growing up. I’m fortunate enough to say that I still have it. I say fortunate because given the torture and trauma I made my pre-pubescent and adolescent hair endure, it’s a freakin’ bloody miracle.

Interestingly, I have waves in my hair now. Perhaps a bi-product of having kids. I dunno, but I actually don’t mind my hair most days. Not to gross anybody out, but as my hair gets dirtier… greasier… the better it gets. I kid you not. Certainly, it reaches a point where it starts heading in the other direction. From full and wavy to dull, drab and limp. It’s not thick and it’s fine. So it can only take so much dirtiness… greasiness… before it just looks bad. There is a fine balance after all. I know, I’ve grossed you out.

In the early years, my fine, delicate strands and tendrils endured repeated assaults: home perm after home perm, striving for the perfect ringlets shown on the front of the box. So easily duped. Of course the model with the perfectly formed spirals had been primped, preened, rolled, curled, blown… only God, Allah and Oprah really know what else… deceiving young, desperate pre-teens into begging their well-meaning mothers into buying this toxic crap and voluntarily infusing it deep into their scalps. Scalding… burning… and by and large, frying their young heads. Oh yes… and my mother?!? Oh right, due to her own never-ending struggle with fine, staight hair she was indulging the desperate quest for TeenBeat beauty of misguided pre-teen, and actually rolling fine, delicate tendrils onto narrow plastic rollers! Infusing young scalp. Just as her own well-meaning mother, with her own beauty baggage, had done for her. Ack!

I’m not placing blame. I know I was desperately… frantically obnoxious in my insistence for curly hair. Despite each. And every. Fucking time. Ending up with a head full of crispy frizz! But, surely the next time would be different. Some how. And for a period of about seven years, there was always a next time. Thankfully, though, at some point, once I could afford it, I employed the (relatively) knowledgeable assistance of local salon. Marginally less destructive. Equally ineffectual.

The odyssey that was my perpetual search for the perfect curl for my so-very-imperfect hair did finally come to an end. Overlapping with my need to reclaim my inner blond. A saga commonly referred to as: My Journey Into Sun-In. Painful fodder for another post. One hair trauma at a time….

Well, I am now a mother. Of a daughter. Who, without a doubt, and despite my best efforts, will likely be dissatisfied with her own hair. But, honestly, and not because I am this girl’s mother, the child has beautiful hair. It’s fine, yes. But she has more of it. She also has delicious, wonderful waves. Even when it’s messy, unbrushed, tatty and tangly- much of the time- it’s lovely. And I love it. Each and every delicate, little ringlet.

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Mother Nature is up to her old shenanigans! It is cooo-ooold up here in the little valley that nestles our cozy, little cottage house. The only thing is… the last several mornings- and evenings- have been far from friggin’ cozy!

She’s a bitter tease, that old wench! Ahhhhh… Mother Nature!

Regardless the frosty start, things are shaping up to be a pretty good day. An early morning…. Ok, so it wasn’t spent alone as I prefer, but little Fidge has a way of making me smile. Even when she’s intruding into the sanctity of my very sanity; my buffer-zone; the peaceful silence of my first-thing-blissful-aloneliness, watching the sunrise with only the gently hum of my laptop and delicious hiss of steam from my cup o’ life-affirming joe.

Shower. Removal of offending body hairs. Head to toe. Sure the brows could use a little more work, but hey…. it’s a Thursday and the tidiness around the cankles would make even the best of electrolysis-icians proud, making up for what might be still sprouting out of place above my increasingly hooded lids….

Happiness=Hairlessness, I always say. OK, not. But to begin a day 1. actually clean; and 2. less several hundred grams of body hair…. well, it gets things off in the right direction.

Yes, things are off to a dandy start…. as I head into the ’school room’. Oh, please let the good times at least continue, if not actually roll….

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