Out to See

Aside: Please note that segments of this blog may not be coherent as I am subject to a bevy of comments from various relatives while trying to type this. Not wanting to disappoint my loyal fans, I am trying valiantly to thread a sentence together.  Around me in a semi-circle are my brother-in-law and uncle, both trying in vain to read a book each, my aunt who keeps chirping every three seconds for me to put in good words about her, and my sister whose eyebrows are reaching the stratosphere while she is begging me not to be included in this episode.
 
So here it goes: My aunt and uncle have concluded their tour of British Columbia, and they are to fly home via Seattle. As such, my nutty sister commandeered her beat up van across the border to whisk them and their seven pieces of luggage away. Seeing as how my four year old, Lanes, is super attached to them, I thought it best that we tag along on the American leg of their tour. I was hoping that the sight of my nieces would distract Lanes from missing them too much.


Come Friday, my ever faithful, yet slightly batty sister (also an apt description for a steadfast but eccentric hound), came and got us and we had a lovely trip down I-5 and memory lane.  Several childhood stories were related at my expense and apparently at my expanse (I had to get the wide hip gene). Being the youngest is a tough job.  At least I also got the wit, charm and good looks gene (which when mutated is the 'you have a &*^%* hope' gene).


In our two days in Seattle, my sister and her family took everyone to the usual tourist haunts. We even went blackberry picking. I tried to do this in Canada, as most of the route to and from Lanes' school is lined with blackberry bushes, but my aunt shooed me away from them and told me that I am not on any uncertain terms to collect berries I was not familiar with. And that was the end of that.


Any old how, while in America, my aunt was assured by my sister that the bushes, which looked exactly like the ones in my neighborhood, indeed yielded ready to pick blackberries. Everyone had a ball collecting them, especially since we were awaiting the delicious pie that would be the fruit of our labor.


Since Lanes was safely occupied, I took a moment to lie down on the grass and look at the sky. It seems mundane, but when life takes ahold of you and you don't have a minute to spare, watching the clouds floating by is not something to be taken for granted. It was the longest and most peaceful five minutes I have had in a long time.


My brother-in-law had brought along some craft that looked like an inflatable canoe. Lanes was really excited to go out in the water on it. If her father was around, he might have had second thoughts, but seeing as how I am afraid of the water, I didn't want Lanes growing up feeling inhibited. I gave her a big ok, especially since my brother-in-law was a certified lifeguard and she was amongst strong swimmers. I also made them solemnly swear they will keep my baby safe.


She set off with her cousins and their father screeching with delight every time the waves gave the raft a nudge or push. At that point, I immediately regretted my decision and was thinking of having a nervous breakdown, but seeing as it was too late to change anything, I just focused on the look of pure joy on Lanes' face. I then realized that I saw my uncle help patch up a hole in the canoe before we left the house. That's when the cold sweat hit me.


When they were out of sight, I prayed and held my breath until I saw them bobbing back towards me. I clung onto Lanes for dear life and all she could do was try to break free and go for ride number two! Fortunately, my sister materialized with some fried chicken and distracted everyone from going out again. 


Lanes has decided that when she is older, I am to take her on a hot air balloon ride (which works fine since I am full of hot air myself), her dad has to take her on a roller coaster, and 'Big Daddy', my bro-in-law, has to take her white water rafting. Meanwhile, I'm sure by the time she is old enough to do all those things, she would have picked more hip folks to do it with. Hmm.


The fun and games are fizzling out now. My aunt and uncle are to be packed off tomorrow night. I'll be left with a sullen Lanes, who keeps giving their luggage the evil eye.  I, too, have been sad about their imminent departure (my aunt wanted me to mention the depths of despair I would be propelled to when she leaves). But jokes aside, it was really nice to have them around--like cuddling with a snug and well worn blanket.


Next week, Lanes should be back in school and I have to sort myself out, making appointments with doctors and for driving lessons, neither of which sounds fun at all. The quiet in our apartment will be deafening and we might feel rather lonesome. I shall have to stock my grumbling fridge with some fudge ice cream to get me through. More stories from BC next week...

You Spin Me Right Round

Our household has been quite a buzz this week because my aunt and uncle are visiting from the home country. We have all survived five people sharing two bedrooms and using one toilet after eating my cooking. Surprisingly, they seem to enjoy my culinary repertoire (my uncle especially has no love for food), so I must pat myself on my back and say a big ‘whoop di do and haha in your face’ for all those who thought my family and I would starve after our move to Canada (since I never cooked before that).

Childishness aside, I have been surviving on pure adrenaline these days since my four year old, Lanes, and I have been rather delighted to have our house guests.  Lanes, in particular, was super attached to my aunt and uncle before we left Sri Lanka. We lived next door to them and she would spend a considerable amount of time in their  house rearranging and putting back their ornaments, listening to Scottish music of all things, and making my aunt and uncle dance to her tune.

My long suffering spouse, P, and I were hoping to take them around and for all of us to see and experience as many ‘tourist’ type things as possible. As I have still not secured a driving license, and Lanes has preschool, while P is struggling to keep his temp job during the week, we technically only have about 3 hours to do stuff.

I say technically because before we get out the door, I have to sort out my geriatric relatives and a bouncy four year old. I don’t even have time to give myself a once over.  By the time we trudge to the bus stop with my aunt giving me a running commentary about combing out my  hair, my uncle fretting about Lanes walking near the edge of the sidewalk, and Lanes stopping to find every dandelion on the way, we miss about two buses.

We save all the sightseeing for the weekends and I decided I’ll engage in my favorite sport, shopping, with my aunt, who dutifully follows me everywhere. Sadly, her idea of shopping is hopping off the bus, speed walking across the mall, and jumping back on the bus to pick up Lanes—thirty to forty-five minutes early! I am left with no time to dawdle, which really bummed me out.

Speaking of dawdling and using buses, I temporarily broke up with my driving instructor. It’s been a roller coaster of a time for us while everyone is here, and as much as I enjoy it, I feel a little tired since I’m cramming more into a day than usual. Also, with us sharing a toilet, there was no room for me to have indigestion over an upcoming driving class.

The center I was supposed to take the test at is closed from September to December, and the one right by where I live is apparently notorious for failing people. So I opted to resume my classes leisurely. I must say my stomach and esophagus have been most grateful for that. As for my driving instructor, he genuinely sounded disappointed.  I guess I must have been good for his low blood pressure.

Lanes and I are going to be bored and sad when everyoen leaves at the end of the week. We will miss all of us having four different conversations at the same time, my aunt shivering and my uncle swearing whenever the elevator in our building skips our floor, and an endless supply of cereal in our apartment (my relatives love to buy a new box every other day despite my vehement protests that I have no room for them).

I have taken to raising some plants, all named after the Scooby-Doo gang (to give Lanes a thrill). P is still snickering and waiting for me to bump them off, but so far they seem to like me: ) What's not to like? Or as they say here, 'what's not to like, eh?' More musings from BC next week...

Reunions

We have had a fast paced week here in Canada because we had an influx of visitors from the mother land. My long suffering spouse, P’s cousin and her husband were in town to catch the Alaskan cruise, and my maternal aunt and her equally long suffering spouse also came for a visit.

I was so excited about the visits that I could barely sleep. I am rather fond of P’s cousin and her obstetrician husband, because he brought our four year old, Lanes, into this world. By virtue of a c-section all I did was lie on a table, deliriously and obliviously happy on whatever drugs I was on, and he took her out for me. I also gave him a hard time right throughout my pregnancy, having fallen down once every trimester. Equilibrium was not a friend of mine.

Since they were on a tour, we only had them for a couple of hours on Tuesday evening, but we really enjoyed it. It was nice also because I was having a horrendous time earlier in the day. I had what I thought was my last driving lesson. Let’s just say, I was wrong. As usual.

I started off ok, a little queasy, but I ignored it because I always feel like I’ve eaten some bad squid prior to my lessons. About twenty minutes into my two hour lesson I began to feel like some gerbils were trying to get out of my stomach. The AC was also blasting on my hands and I really felt like using the facilities.  By that time I had approached Vancouver and I was in the middle of traffic.

I was wrecking my brains for a good excuse to turn the car around and cut my lesson short, or to take a detour to some place I could run to a restroom, even though I’m mortally afraid of public restrooms. I was desperate and I had tears in my eyes, so I just prayed that I'd survive the lesson. I don't know why I just didn't tell the instructor the truth then and there.

Meanwhile, I was not focused at all on driving. I was accused of speeding and dawdling at lights and I don’t even know what.  The instructor was on some tirade about my head being in the clouds but I just ignored him. I just flicked my wrist at him and told him 'yes  yes just write down fail'. He was a little stunned at my nonchalance.

After about an hour and a half, I told him I had to go to the loo and that’s why I was not driving as if I was trying to pass the road test. At that point, I didn’t give two hoots if two wheels were over a solid white line or if I turned too wide.  I was ready for him to scold me saying I’m making excuses, but by that time, I was a brighter shade of blue so I think he believed me and literally took it at face value.

It was also almost time for me to pick up Lanes from play school so I couldn’t stop anywhere. I dashed out of the car without so much as a goodbye to the instructor and I zoomed into the school, ready to oust any little child on the potty. Luckily, such drastic measures were not necessary. I was much relived, no pun intended.

Sadly, on account of my bad stomach, the instructor is now a little concerned about me and wants me to sign up for round three of driving lessons. Will this ever end? I’m going to be driving around town with this man for eternity. When will I ever ever ever get a license? To make it worse, everyone I have met tells me how many times they have failed the driving exam. It’s a long road for me I think.

Any old how, having our visitors perked me up. On that Thursday, my maternal aunt and her dutiful husband came for a visit. We used to live next to them in Sri Lanka, and Lanes was delighted to see them. I had plotted and planned with the driver of the bus I take in the afternoons to pick up Lanes to play a practical joke on my aunt.  We had got to chatting and it turns out he has a full bag of tricks.

Since he is quite the prankster and I’m a joker, I thought it was a good idea to let him come up with a plan because he has been playing pranks on people way longer than I have. We were heckling when he approached the stop (I got my uncle in on the joke) and the driver was going to ask my aunt to sing a song in order to get on the bus.

Sadly, she put her ticket in and when he tried to speak to her, said she was going to sit down and went off.  The driver and I looked at each other thunderstruck and disappointed that the joke was on us. The only one who found it amusing was my uncle. When we got off the bus, the driver was still stunned when I waved good bye. I told my aunt what we were up to. She rolled her eyes and told me I should not be so friendly with men I didn't know. Sigh. When I told P this story he burst out laughing since he shaking his head at my plans to trick my aunt.

On the weekends we took them out to enjoy the beautiful outdoors.  We even picked up two plants for our balcony, which I have happily named Velma and Daphne a la Scooby Doo.  P is making bets on how long before I forget about them. He thinks I’m all thumbs and none of them are green. I’m diligently and enthusiastically caring for them just to prove him wrong, and also because I know given the weather, I won't have to fuss over them for very long.

I have to sign off since I have one uncle looking for keys to go outside and smoke and one aunt who insists on regaling me with stories while I’m trying to type this. Meanwhile, Lanes walking around with an action figure with red eyes and a missing leg and she is about to sneak up on my aunt. More from Canada next week…

Say What Now?

This week I came to the stunning realization that the end of next month marks our one year anniversary of being in Canada!! For some reason in my head, I had not realized how quickly September was approaching, and my diligent spouse, P, took great delight in pointing out the finer facts of the Gregorian calendar and the process of time for me, and that gave me a bad flashback of being in the second grade and being told that Santa Claus didn’t exist. I don’t know why.

I guess in the planet my brain was orbiting I was still stuck in July for some reason.  Maybe that is what keeps me young: ) According to my driving instructor, of course, this is not the case.  I had yet another one of my dreaded lessons, during which he grimaced consistently, but for the first time, didn’t say ‘Fail!’. 

There was one incident where the wheels of the car went over a solid white line, and he said I could fail for that on the test, but in real life it was inevitable given the situation I was in. So I was not really yelled at. Well, except for the time he told me to turn right and then left, and I dawdled and didn’t realize I really had to turn left within seconds of turning right. At that point I got in trouble for not listening. What’s new? At least I'm consistent.

I really didn’t want to sign up for another round of lessons. My stomach gets into knots and I look rather feverish and constipated before each lesson.  I look like I’m auditioning for laxative commercial (I would be the before girl). P, on the other hand, loves the driving instructor because he is the only person on the planet who can instill some fear in me. Upon being told this, my instructor laughed deliriously. Enough said.

While he was in a good mood for once, I casually asked him how many classes he thinks I should take before taking the road test. He said he will see how I am during my class next week. Knowing that he would rather perform a root canal on himself than offer me a compliment, I went fishing for one myself. I told him he has to admit that I have improved tremendously since I first started, and he spontaneously said ‘yes!’. 

He quickly made up for his positive outburst by telling me that I get into trouble when I think because I over analyze things and that's what gets me into a spot (but not a parking spot). Apparently, I should just go with my instincts.  Considering the hamster in my brain has control issues, I don't know how to follow that order. I guess it is better to be scolded for over thinking than not thinking at all?

So some progress was made. Sadly, I think I might be suckered into another round. I just hope all the stress of these classes doesn’t cause me an ulcer. He said that usually ‘elderly’ students need more driving classes than young ones. Wait a minute now.  My mouth was wide open and my eyes were stinging. I have never been so stunned in my life.

If I was not trying to avoid hearing the word ‘Fail!’, I would have slammed on the breaks then and there. Was this dude calling me old? I actually gasped and asked him to explain himself, and he looked at me like ‘what? Did I say something wrong? Anyone past the early 30s is elderly’. To make it worse he said he thought I was 36. Obviously, I should have paid more attention to my roots when I was dying my hair by myself.

This, everyone, is a fine example of karma coming back to bite someone in the behind.  I have spent my entire life, teasing my poor parents, my father in particular, saying that the Smithsonian called and would like him for one of their exhibits. He would be so happy to know that I, the bratty kid in the family, was called ‘elderly’. These things always happen to me. One would think that considering how often these things do come back to bite me in the behind, I would have a smaller rear.

Any old how, no pun intended on the old, besides being insulted in a complimentary way, or complimented in an insulting way, by my driving instructor, this week passed by quickly. We were testing the healthcare system again. We had some fire hot days, and my preschooler, Lanes, went to play school with sandals and no socks.  One the way back, she didn’t listen when I asked her not to open the door on her own and she managed to smash her big toe.

There was blood everywhere. She was crying in pain and I couldn’t see how badly hurt she was due to all the blood gushing out of the top of her toe. She had left a trail of blood when I led her to the sink to clean her up and that was freaking her (and me) out even more. I think I got so scared, I was calm.

Eventually, I ascertained that she could bend her toe and the cut was not so bad and all was well after she was bandaged and the floor was scrubbed.  Having toyed with the idea of giving up hopes on a driving license prior to that, I realized this is a good example of why I should be independently mobile.

Meanwhile, I never heard from the clinic I went to about my specialist appointment. P taunted me saying I would never call to follow up on it, so I did just to spite him (we are very mature that way). Turns out they had no idea and they had the wrong phone number for me.

On Saturday we went to the clinic, so I could ask them again in person. I figured I could get a better answer if I am seen as a person instead of a voice behind a phone or some strange letters put together on a piece of paper.  The specialist they were putting me through was not free until November, but the clinic couldn’t make another appointment with someone else unless the GP who saw me tells them to. It all seems rather complicated. I’m trusting they will sort it out.

To make things worse, while I was waiting at the clinic, I looked out the window and smiled with a baby in a stroller, only to look up to find the mom of the baby was the unfriendliest mom in Lanes' old preschool. I wanted to blank her but she blanked me first and that just made me mad for the next five minutes. I let it go because sometimes you have to ignore people who walk around looking like they are sucking on lemons. 

  

We spent the rest of the weekend at Queen Elizabeth Park, where Lanes enjoyed the water fountains, and the next day we went with friends to the fishing town of Steveston. I have to go now because P is on the phone long distance and he is literally shouting. His theory of using the phone is that if the connection fails, the person on the other end must still be able to hear him. He is calling Sri Lanka. Needless to say, I need ear plugs.

I will thus sign off for now, because my concentration is gone. More adventures next week...

Much To Do

With the weather getting better, my diligent spouse P, and our preschooler, Lanes, have been enjoying the various parks in our neighborhood. Invariably, when they come home, I am regaled with enthusiastic tales of monkey bars, bicycle races and encounters with new playmates. I find it very amusing because before she goes to the park, she is always 'so tired' after the both of us walk downhill from school in the afternoons.

On the super sunny days, the entire exercise takes longer than it should because she and her friend from play school stop to blow on every dandelion they see, comment on every marking on the pavement, and squeal with delight at every dog that they pass.  With the help of gravity and little legs, they almost roll down the hill and her friend’s mom and I are usually found shrieking behind them, warning of crossroads and doggy poop. 

Lanes, who never listens to a word that comes out of my mouth, has taken up some sheep herding tendencies and does a good job of lassoing her younger companion at the appropriate times, often quoting my lectures to her (don't go there, that's a driveway, stop at the lamppost, no means no). If only she could help herself when we are alone, it would be helpful because the other day I saw a long red rodent type tail scurrying into the bushes as Lanes bounded ahead.

By the time we get home, we are both tired, hungry and two shades darker despite the liberal splattering of sun block I apply on both of us at the beginning of the day.  My mother, who would rather us lead a bat-like existence (instead of just being bats) in terms of avoiding the sun, would be mortified (I can't wait to video-Skype her--naughty me)!  Needless to say, when P comes home from his temp job, we both look a bit rough around the edges, but when it comes time to go to the park, Lanes rushes to the door all bright eyed and bushy tailed.

When they get to the park, she tends to dilly dally and without fail, no matter what park they go to, a little boy always comes up to her and initiates either a bike race or a game of catch or tag or whatever kids call it these days. Lanes runs after her cheeky park friend, screaming ‘daddy, after him!’, and poor P dutifully skedaddles behind them. 

He has decided though, that he will definitely have a tough time dealing with boys when Lanes is a teenager and that she will always be his little girl. So whenever she goes to the prom or whatever it is kids will be doing by that time, I’ll have to give him a laxative and a few drinks and chuck him in the closet until she comes home. That’s the plan for now at least. That being said, I’m most likely to find an excuse to go to college with her. Poor child.

The exciting thing we did this week was that we went to Shannon Falls in Squamish, BC.  The drive there was beautiful and after we looked at the awesome waterfall, we had a picnic lunch on the grounds. When we were done eating, Lanes gasped with delight as a little dog bounded towards us. His family was happy to stop and let us pet their four legged darling.

The doggie’s  family consisted of a mom, dad, a little boy perhaps Lanes age or a few months younger, and a little girl of about five or six.  P and Lanes were talking to the humans, but as an avid dog lover, I found myself highly engrossed in petting the little furry friend and  as I was asking Lanes to let the dog smell her hand before petting him, the mom in the family laughed and said ‘your daughter is petting my son!’.

I looked up to find that this was indeed true. Our little flirty gertie Lanes was gently rubbing his arm and offering him food because he was hungry! His parents thought it was funny. P looked a little constipated.  Meanwhile the little girl had her arm around Lanes’ shoulder. But Lanes does prefer to play with boys. Oh well. We exchanged pleasantries and shared some of our peanuts with them (after checking for allergies) and then made our way back to Vancouver.

I had taken an allergy medication and was drowsy all the way back, which was a shame because we could have explored more stops if I had all my wits about me.  Lanes had also fallen asleep with her mouth wide open after our little excursion. P, alert since he was saddled with driving, thoroughly enjoyed the view on the way back, so a good time was had by all, for the most part.

This week I had one of my notorious dreams about one of my grandparents. I say notorious because whenever I dream of them, I am invariably given a warning of some sort. This time I dreamt my maternal grandmother came to see me and she was not looking happy and warned me about my health. I proceeded to faint (in my dream) and came to (again in my dream) to find P had been dressing Lanes in mismatching clothes, which to me was more horrific than my fainting spell.

When I told P about this dream/warning from beyond, he took it to mean that I should finally go to the clinic and find out about those tests I took in March/April. I usually have to be taken to the doctor kicking and screaming, but P, freaked out by my dream (which he claimed was from my eating sour cream and onion chips pas midnight), decided it was time to go. 

I was not amused, but I had been having headaches and terrible back aches of late and thought it best to just go and figure everything out. I was also afraid that they would throw my test results out and I would have to go get another ultrasound from the cranky technician who accused me of not drinking water (which was true).

When I did get to see a GP, she decided to refer me to a specialist. I was not keen on yet another visit to the doctor and I guess that showed on my face and she quickly jotted down ‘looks bothered’ under comments. I was having yet another ‘Seinfeld’ moment in my life.

It reminded me of the episode where Elaine was at the doctors and he wrote down that she was difficult and she tried to get him to change it or steal the note to change it or something like that, which no doubt resulted in her getting barred from his office and that of his colleagues. Why do these things only happen to me? I debated grinning maniacally and looking  happy to see if she will change it but I though that my earn me a referral to the psych ward instead.

That about is our week in a nutshell. I must sign off since Lanes is sniffling and I think she is getting a cold. P claims he actually wants some exercise today and he wants to go off for a walk—I’ll make him climb the hill for laughs. I continue to struggle with my driving lessons, although this time my instructor was in a good mood and said ‘Fail!’ only once if at all. We delighted in finding new ways to make the driving test even harder, but then I realized that is not in my favor. I’m bright that way. More musings from BC next week...