This blog started when we moved to the Vancouver area. The first two months we lived in the West End and it was almost heaven. I loved the pedestrian life style. We walked to Granville Island and our favourite downtown pub. I went grocery shopping every other day, getting fresh produce, fish and bread from the specialty stores in the neighbourhood. However, there were some minor downsides. The apartment we could afford was very small with limited storage. It was noisy most of the time and we often got contact highs from our neighbours’ habits. And the homeless population there was front and centre, on every corner and in every alley.

So, we moved to downtown Port Coquitlam. When we first drove to the area I was smitten. Our building has a pedestrian walkway in front of it. I can walk to a small grocery store, a bakery, a farm market, a pharmacy, a pub and several small restaurants. But being outside of the bigger city, we also have access to river walks and biking trails, and great connections to major highways and transit lines. And a two car garage.

There are many things I love about this townhouse and its location. I love to people-watch and the pedestrian walkway lets me do that. I wrote about a proposal I watched under the big cherry tree. Children from a local daycare sometimes walk to the the little park between our building and the walkway to kick balls around and to play on the grass. The older people in the assisted living building across the street walk their little dogs and visit on the benches. Right now a woman is sitting on a bench under the tree reading a book. An urban adventurer once climbed the big maple tree and hung a hammock in its branches and wiled away the afternoon. When we sit on the patio and look up we see sky and trees. Sometimes in the quiet of the morning or evening we can only hear the wind in the leaves and the soft calls of birds. The building was brand new when we moved in. We put our belongings in never-used-so-they-were-never-dirty cupboards and walked on pristine carpets. We seemed to have the best of both worlds and loved the mix of urban and suburban living that we had found. And it was close to our older son and his family. Almost perfect.

Almost. Those benches along the walkway also attracted people who sat and drank all day. They would get loud and obnoxious and relieve themselves in the garden. Where the walkway crossed the side street was a popular location for drug deals. We found needles in the park. And although there were only five units in our strata, we did not all get along nor did we equally share the work of maintaining the building and running the strata. The townhouse has large bedrooms and a double garage but a small kitchen, living and dining rooms. Two people can’t move behind the kitchen island at the same time without getting up close and personal. The dining room table seats only six and our family is growing. Family dinners are crowded. And I am getting a knee replacement soon. This townhouse is three storeys, with all the bedrooms on the third floor. Not ideal for recovery after surgery and that causes me some anxiety.

Late last year we attended a retirement seminar put on by Dale’s employer. It was there we decided that we wouldn’t retire in the lower mainland. We would cash out our equity and move to a place that had a lower housing market and lower cost of living. Dale wants a big garage or a workshop so he can putter and work on his car. We started planning for that. And this spring we put our townhouse up for sale. Although the market had changed from a seller’s one to a buyer’s one, we got a great offer right away and we are moving, again. To a rental house in south Delta. Dale’s drive to work has dropped to ten minutes from almost two hours, each way, every day. We will have a large kitchen and dining room, and a backyard where our grandchildren can safely play. And there is a bedroom on the main level where I can park myself after knee surgery. South Delta has good shopping, bike trails and access to main highways. The transit links aren’t great and it is farther away from family, but still close enough. The drive to the theatre is about the same time. And now we have a new neighbourhood to explore and learn to love. It is distinctly more suburban than urban but that’s the trade-off for a bigger house with a yard. And we have traded a strata council for a landlord. Nothing’s perfect but this is the right move for us right now.

The equity from the sale will be in the bank, and in a couple of years we will decide where we will buy. Hopefully the market will be down even more then, so we can take advantage of buying in a buyer’s market, although that would run counter to our usual way of doing business. Nothing slows a market more than the Shimells trying to sell.

Late last year we received the wonderful news that we were going to be grandparents again. And not long after that news we learned the grandchild who was coming was a girl. Well, we were over the moon. Our Ari is a wonderful, busy little boy, and now we could look forward to a wonderful, busy little girl. Thankfully our daughter-in-law had a relatively easy pregnancy. We continued to take Ari when we could to give her a break. And April rolled around and we started to get antsy, ready to meet the little girl who already had a name, Ellie Anna.

Her due date came and went. I took my phone to our bedroom every night, checking it to make sure the ringer was on. I also questioned Dale several times about the “Do not disturb” setting. I wasn’t convinced that the phone would ring in the middle of the night if they needed us. He assured me that it would. Of course, the call came during the day, rather, the text did. I got ready for Ari to come to stay overnight, when another text came asking me to pick him up. I rushed over and sure enough, the little girl who was late was moving things along quickly. I scooped up Ari and his stuff while my daughter-in-law panted through a contraction. They were out the door behind me on the way to the hospital. The text for me to pick up Ari came at 3:45. The text to say Ellie has arrived came at 6:46.

We didn’t go to the hospital that night, by the time they were in a room ready for visitors it was after 8:00 and we  thought it was too late to bundle Ari up and make the trip. Instead we focussed on trying to get Ari in bed and asleep at a decent time. We were only moderately successful in that.

In the morning Dale quietly got up and went to work. Around 8:00 Ari woke up and we had breakfast. Our other son had texted and made arrangements to visit the hospital at around 10:00, so that was our aim as well. Just after 9:00 we drove to the local Safeway to get flowers and balloons. There was a funny sound coming from the front of my car, like there was something stuck in my tire.I parked and got out to check. Wouldn’t you know it, the first flat tire of my life, on the day I had my grandson and I was on the way to see my granddaughter. I called the toll free number of our vehicle’s roadside assistance program. About an hour and a half later the tow truck arrived. The driver was awesome. He put Ari’s car seat into the truck and was very kind, even when Ari screamed and didn’t want to get into the big orange tow truck. Once he was in he was fine, and I think he enjoyed the view from up there, He did wave and say “Bye orange tow truck”, when it left so I guess the experience wasn’t all that bad.

Of course, the dealership wasn’t expecting us so it took time for the tire fixer to get to our little emergency. In the end, a temporary tire was put on. However, I couldn’t put the car seat into the car, and by this time I was almost in tears, with the stress of everything that had happened. Dale took time out of his busy day and drove to where we were, installed the car seat and organized the purchase and installation of four new tires for the next day. I drove home, under 80 km/h the whole way, so Ari could rest up. Then we got the flowers, which Ari had stepped on several times, and the two pink bunnies and got ready to go. The little balloon we had bought somehow got lost in the shuffle, but nonetheless, we were ready to go. We got to the hospital, parked and made our way up to the maternity floor. It was now just before 3:00 in the afternoon, and we had left home the first time just after 9:00 in the morning.

My first view of Ellie was in her bassinet. She was tightly swaddled with a tiny pink cap on her head. She was so little. We forget how small newborns are. Then I held her while Ari and his dad went out for a walk. Dale arrived and took his turn holding her. We didn’t stay long. We took Ari and went home. Later that night we dropped Ari off at his house after his mom and dad and new little sister had had time to settle in.

Well, that was an eventful arrival. A quick labour and delivery, and then a long day for Mimi and Poppy because of the unexpected flat tire and the ensuing adventure. But it did give me time to sit in a Tim Horton’s and write this blog entry the next day while my new tires were being installed.

Welcome to the family Ellie Anna, we are looking forward to spending a lot of time with you.

I was very young when I got engaged, so was my then boyfriend. We got engaged on Christmas Eve at his grandmother’s house. He handed me a small, wrapped box. Inside the box was the ring and a little card “Will you…?” Of course I said yes and although it wasn’t a particularly romantic proposal it took, and we’ve been married for almost 39 years. On our 25th anniversary, we got new rings and he presented me with my new engagement ring and wedding bands on the upper deck of the ferry. We were on our way to Vancouver to take a cruise. He got down on one knee and asked me if I would marry him again. Of course I said yes, again.

So the only proposal I will ever get wasn’t terribly romantic, but back in the day well planned and dramatic proposals weren’t a thing. Most of our friends just got engaged and then got married. Our weddings were simple affairs, usually at the community hall with crepe paper streamers and tissue paper wedding bells. Few of us went on exotic honeymoons. But now proposals and weddings are big deals. And a couple of days ago, I had front row seats to a well planned, romantic proposal.

I was sitting on the couch when movement on the pedestrian walkway in front of our building caught my eye. Two young women had put some boxes on the bench and were unloading them. I thought it was for a photo shoot. I saw a generator and thought that perhaps they would rather use wired electricity. So I went down to the patio and caught their attention. I asked if they would like to use the outlet on the patio. They said that was very kind of me and that they might need to, as the keyboard player would need power too. Then she said what they were doing. They were setting up for a friend of theirs to propose to his girlfriend. I wished them luck, and then went into the garage to find an extension cord. I plugged it in and pulled it across the patio and our front walkway, under the fence and into the park. The girls waved at me and gave me a thumbs up. I went back inside and took up residence on the window seat. I was going to enjoy every minute of this event.

The girls unloaded three pedestals, three huge flower arrangements, dozens of candles, light up letters that spelled LOVE, several photographs in silver frames, flower petals and a couple of long draperies. They had a generator that they put on the other side of walkway among the bushes in the garden. They spent about 10 minutes trying to throw the tied together draperies over the lowest branch of the tree. Finally they got one of the pedestals and stood on it so they were able to hang the draperies.

They were very fussy about the placement of everything, often moving things and then standing back to look and then fussing again. When everything seemed set, the keyboard player, in a tuxedo, arrived and so did a photographer. By this time Dale was home so we went down to the patio to watch. Things looked great but it was starting to get dark and cold. I was worried about that until I realized the light-up letters and the candles would look incredible in the early evening low light. The tree, covered in cherry blossoms, seemed to glow as the sun dropped. We started checking out all the couples walking towards the tree. Finally we knew the right couple was close because the generator went on, the letters lit up, the keyboard player started to play and the photographer lifted her camera.

The young woman walking with the young man first pointed and turned to say something to him. Then it twigged and her hand went to her mouth. She stopped walking and faced him. He smiled and led her under the tree. As the keyboard player played and the photographer snapped photos, he took a box out his pocket, went down on one knee and asked the question. She nodded and he put the ring on her finger. Then he stood and they embraced. I was taking a video of the event with my iPad. Dale wondered if we should clap. I shook my head no. We watched for a while longer as they checked out all the decorations and then posed for pictures. The keyboard player played for the entire time. We retrieved the extension cord that they didn’t use and went inside. Then as the light faded, they took a few things and walked away.

Their friends, who had set everything up, started packing what was left away. I watched them from the window. The whole thing was magical. And honestly, it was so romantic and so beautiful that it could have been an intimate wedding, except for the fact that it was on a public walkway where anyone could have happened by. But with a handful of witnesses and an officiant, it would have been a simply perfect venue. And the people who did walk by were respectful of the proposal so they would have been respectful of a wedding as well.

The whole thing was a wonderful way to wile away my afternoon, checking in on the setting up then watching the event unfold. I have no idea who the young people were but I hope their lives continue on with romantic events like this throughout. Most of married life isn’t romantic, but we all hope for some tender, sweet moments along the way, sprinkled here and there among the distinctly unromantic getting on with the routine of life. We never give up on romance but we all know, or at least we should know, that “regular” life is a slog. There isn’t much romance in going to work, paying bills, looking after children and doing housework and yard work day after day after day.  But we can find things that reconnect us to those starry eyed romantic youngsters we used to be: sharing a quiet talk over a cup of tea while sitting on the couch, waiting until we’re both there before watching that show we recorded, walking hand in hand to a local restaurant for dinner, checking in with a text or a quick call every now and then from work, not buying junk food or making cookies when one of us is on a diet and so many other little things that don’t scream romance but do speak of love; boring, day-after-day happily married love. I wish that for our cherry blossom proposal couple – day-after-day, happily married love – because that will get them over the obstacles that they will encounter, starry eyed romance will not.

Yesterday was a doozy. I left the house at 11:30 am to get to the theatre by 12:30 for a 2:00 show. After the show a friend and I went to dinner, as we had a rehearsal for our upcoming play at 6:30 and it didn’t make sense to go home. We left the theatre around 4:30 and drove to Michael’s to do a little craft shopping and then we went to Montana’s for dinner.

It was snowing when we first left the theatre. It was snowing harder when we left Montana’s. Back at the theatre we met up with the rest of the cast and some of the production crew, chatted a bit, got measured for costumes and then started working on Act 1. When the costumer was done she said her good-byes and left. However, she came right back and said the snow was really coming down, so we should think about wrapping up the rehearsal. The director said she would email us with the questions she had for our characters, we gathered up our things and left.

I offered to give a castmate a ride home as she would probably have waited forever for a cab. The drive down 200th to the Fraser Highway was slow-going. After stopping at some lights, my little Kia struggled to gain traction but we made it to her street. She got out at the corner and I got out too, to bang the ice off the windshield wipers.

In the dark and with the blowing snow, I had no idea where I was. Wait, even in the daylight I probably wouldn’t have known where I was. So I asked the GPS to take me home and I followed its directions. It took me back to the Fraser Highway, then down to Highway 15. By the time I realized where I was, it was too late. Because I knew there was a steep hill leading to the turn-off to Highway 1. Then, in the distance I saw the hill. It was covered with flashing lights in both directions. Then I saw cars with their four-way flashers on coming the wrong way down the hill. I stopped, put on my four way flashers and turned around. A plow went by me and I was tempted to turn around again and follow it back up the hill, but then I remembered the mess up there, and I continued, driving back on the wrong side of the road. At first cross street, a fire truck was parked across the highway, stopping any more traffic from going up the hill. I drove behind it and got into the line-up trying to turn left, back onto Highway 15, going south. Then I called Dale, worried that my GPS wouldn’t know the safest way to get home. He didn’t answer so I left a message and continued trying to get across the highway. Traffic was terrible and many vehicles were sideways on the road.

Dale called me back and I quickly relayed the situation. He told me to go back to the Fraser Highway, but to turn right, heading towards Surrey. This road was a little better. The traffic was moving slowly but steadily. No one was trying to go faster and pass, and on hills everyone turned on their four-way flashers. Dale stayed on the phone with me, asking me where I was. I turned on the defroster for the front windshield and then cranked the heat and fan, hoping to melt the ice on the wipers. I couldn’t stop anywhere to bang the ice off, worried that if I stopped I wouldn’t get going again. The traffic lights worked with me and every time I had to stop, it was on level, plowed and salted ground. I finally made it to 152 Street and turned right. I followed this all the way to the Highway 1 exit. The only excitement I had was when a pedestrian crossed the road, not at a crosswalk, in front of me. I slowed down and my anti-lock brakes kicked in. I hit the horn and he looked at me. He was oblivious that he was putting himself and the traffic in a dangerous situation. I briefly wondered what would be better – hitting him and having a stupid-ass hood ornament or sideswiping the car beside me. Luckily the stupid-ass picked up the pace and got onto the median, then he was a concern for the other side of the street. Of course, I was shouting at him through this whole event. Dale wisely waited until it was over to comment. He was calm and collected for the entire drive, constantly asking me how I was and how I was doing.

The interchange from 152 Street to Highway 1 is on a bit of an uphill slope. I had to stop at the lights before heading up and I had a little trouble getting started again. The traffic was light and everyone was being cautious, so it wasn’t too hair-raising. Of course, after going up a little, I then had to go down a little to get to the highway. It was fine and I carefully made my way to the highway and across the bridge. The Lougheed Highway was busy but plowed and salted. It was clear driving to Pitt River Road and home. The Port Coquitlam roads were well salted and I could see bare pavement in some spots. As I turned into the driveway, we ended our phone call. Dale’s final comment was “Your personal guidance system is now ended.” I pulled into the garage and turned the car off. I took a deep breath and stretched my neck and shoulders. They were very tight with tension.

After an hour of rest and TV, Dale headed up to bed. I was still a little wound up, so I went out to shovel the walkway, sidewalk and end of the driveway. The snow had almost stopped. It was very quiet in the neighbourhood, well, of course it was, it was 10:00 at night! It was also quite light out, with the street lights reflecting off the snow. After 40 minutes of shovelling and then applying the de-icer, the job was done and I had tired myself out. I put everything away and headed in. After a long warm bath I crawled into bed and went right to sleep.

Today, the sun is shining. After shovelling the driveway, our neighbour took his kids out into the park and pulled them around on a little toboggan. They had a lot of fun and it was nice to see them enjoying the snow. The city has plowed the pedestrian walkway and people are starting to venture out. I’m still in my pyjamas and robe and it’s 11:30. I feel like I deserve this little break. I was calm and collected the whole way home. I was a good driver in terrible conditions. I survived the snow storm of February 2019, and there is more snow on the way. I think there is another night of shovelling in my future.

The park in front of our building is one of the reasons we bought here. There is a pedestrian walkway on the other side of it and I love people watching from my window seat. All year people play with their dogs in the park and in the summer children romp there. The older folks from the assisted living building across the street have set up games under the trees and often sit on the benches in the good weather. Yes, the park is a wonderful thing. The city workers mow it and water the trees planted there. We get a yard to look at and play on and we don’t have to do a blessed thing.

However, for four days now I have witnessed a terrible thing in the park. A seagull has joined the crows that dig in the grass looking for grubs. A frigging seagull. In our park. I’m shaking my head in disgust. I really don’t like the crows that hang out here, but at least crows are intelligent, social creatures. Seagulls are just disgusting, evil birds who eat and poop and snap at each other. I mean, have you ever seen their interactions at the beach? I know people who love birds. They feed them and put up little houses for them to live in. They spend hours watching them, enjoying their antics. I’ve done it myself. I love watching the little chickadees and other tiny birds that sit in the trees outside my window. I’ve talked to them when they’ve perched on the edge of our fountain and I’ve laughed at their antics when they’ve darted in and out of that fountain. I’ve put up hummingbird feeders and enjoyed the little birdies that visit them. But I don’t know a single person who says they love seagulls and enjoy watching them. Because there’s nothing to love about them. They aren’t cute. They are mean and evil.

And now there’s a seagull in our park, every day. It’s only a matter of time until it is joined by its friends and relatives, well, its relatives because I’m sure none of them have friends. And then they will peck and poop and peck and poop and ruin our little park and sit on our building and poop all over it and we will have to move.

There is a house near an antique store we like to visit. The first time we drove by it I was stunned. There were dozens of seagulls on the roof. It wasn’t near a dump or a fish market, but there they were, so many seagulls, perched on the peak of a white-washed roof (white-washed with acrid, seagull poop). Why they were there, I had no idea, but it was disgusting. I shuddered and stammered that I couldn’t live anywhere near that house. And if, by some weird happenstance, a house of ours became a seagull perch, we would have to sell it. Every time we’ve driven by it, the house is covered in seagulls. Oh, the horror!

And now there is a seagull in our park. Am I the only one who can see where this is going? So for the foreseeable future I am on seagull watch, to see if this miscreant will be joined by others. Unless it has been a different one coming every day to trick us into missing the invasion. Because who can tell one seagull from another? Oh, they are evil bastards but I’m on to them now.

And if you don’t agree with my viewpoint, google seagulls and check out the images. Not one cute seagull, not one.

Dale always checks out what’s going on in the area where we vacation. This time he found street markets and a hot air balloon festival. Well, a street market is a street market, no matter where you are, but a hot air balloon festival is an event. He talked it about several times before the trip and then again just a couple of days ago. I agreed, it sounded like fun. A ride in an untethered balloon is very expensive, but to watch them inflate at the park was just $12.00 a person, and that included a pancake breakfast. Sounded like a plan.

Then came the kicker, the balloons started to inflate at sunrise, and in Cathedral City,  a few miles east of Palm Springs, that’s just after 5:00. In the morning. You know, where the little hand is on the 5 and the sun isn’t up. And to get there at sunrise, we had to get up when the little hand was still on the 4, because it is a 15 minute drive from Palm Springs to Cathedral City. Uh huh. Up at 4:50. As far as I’m concerned, that’s the middle of the f@€king night. But it was Dale’s vacation too, and the night before at the Palm Springs Street Market I had bought two gorgeous hand-made dusters with ruffled sleeves, made with complimentary and contrasting materials, any way… I agreed. And woke up, at 4:50 a.m., and got ready in jig time. By 5:05 we were out the door and on our way. The traffic was light, duh. Who in the hell in their right mind is up then? We found the park, it was the place with all the lights on, and went in.

There were several balloons in the process of being inflated. There wasn’t much of a breeze so things were going well for most of them. It was neat to see the burner light up, changing the colour of the envelope in the dark morning sky. I wished the burners were closer to us, it was rather cold and I had only my big sweater, which at home is plenty warm enough, but not so much for a desert morning.

We watched some other balloons go up and then got in line for breakfast. We were able to eat inside. The festival was being held at a ballpark and the concession/restaurant area was open. We lingered a bit, trying to get the circulation back in our extremities, and then went back outside. I felt like the morning was colder once the sun came up, but it probably wasn’t. I may have been starting to feel the effects of the allergy tablet Dale had given me. All week I’d been sneezing and stuffed up, and Dale finally remembered he had allergy tablets in his shaving kit. I found out later, they were Benadryl tablets. And by later, I mean 4 hours later because when we got back to the hotel around 7:30, I went to bed and that was that, for four hours. While I slept Dale went to a car auction, not something I was interested in going to, come on, I’d already fulfilled my supportive spousal role by getting up in the middle of the effing night to stand in the cold morning air watching hot air balloons inflate. I joke, but I was rather cool, but I’m still holding Dale to his comment that it was a once in a lifetime event. Because the festival is on tomorrow too, and tomorrow the balloons are supposed to leave the park. That would be a great sight. Wonder if I can find it on YouTube?

One thing Dale really wanted to do on this trip was to drive on the westernmost part of Route 66. The western terminus is at the Santa Monica pier. We weren’t that far west but on Monday we were able to drive the part of the highway to San Bernadino and then between Victorville and Barstow. It would have been nice to have driven it in our Mustang or even in a rented muscle car, but instead we did it in a base model Nissan Frontier. The views were the same, the vibe wasn’t.

In San Bernadino the big attraction on Route 66 is the Wigwam Motel. It was actually quite a sight – about 20 individual wigwams with their own parking spots around the office and the pool. We parked and Dale went into the office which is also a Route 66 gift shop. He bought some decals and got to talking to the owner. When he heard we were from Canada and had made a special trip down to see the motel, he let us look into the wigwams that weren’t occupied. Now, Dale’s original plan was for us to spend a night there but he never really got around to booking it, maybe based on my lukewarm reception of the idea. Well, after looking into the units, it was a good thing he didn’t. They are tiny! I’m not sure we’d both fit in the bed at the same time. On the other side of the room from the bed is a tiny couch and a small TV. And the bathroom isn’t a bathroom, it’s a toilet and sink room. The pictures tell the story. We laughed at the idea of spending any time there. However, in the 50s it was probably quite a great weekend adventure, even though the cars back then were bigger than the wigwams!

After walking around the motel grounds, we got back in the truck and drove to the freeway. We had to get to the next part of the old route. Of course, we missed exits, or took the wrong exits, but eventually we found our way to Victorville and the Route 66 museum. It was full of interesting artifacts, like a tiny teardrop camping trailer and some original Burma Shave highway advertising signs. There was also a lot of information about the towns and attractions that used to be on Route 66 and about some of the people. Dale bought some more decals and the old guy behind the counter gave us a sheet outlining the things to see on Route 66 between Victorville and Barstow.

When the new interstate highway replaced Route 66, most of the businesses along Route 66 were unable to make a living. The people in the nearby towns left as the jobs disappeared. We saw a lot of abandoned, falling down buildings. In some places only part of the foundation remained. And the sad thing was we could see the new highway from most of the old Route 66. It must have been heartbreaking for the people who could see their customers, indeed, their livelihood driving by on the upper road. Eventually the road we were on ended and we joined up with the freeway. Our next stop – the Route 66 Museum in Barstow.

We followed the signs to the beautifully restored Harvey House building that housed the museum. However, it was closed. We thought it was because of the Veterans’ Day holiday, but the sign said it was only open on Friday, Saturday and Sunday. The railway museum was nearby and so we drove along the road looking at the collected train cars. Then we hightailed it to Peggy Sue’s diner, about 6 miles north.

The diner has been there since 1954. Back then it had 9 counter stools and 3 booths. Now it’s a sprawling building with dining rooms off of dining rooms, a “diner-saur” park with a pizzeria and a kitschy gift shop. Our dining room was covered in artificial flowers, including a wisteria-covered ceiling. Our table was wonky and every time we lifted an elbow or leaned with an elbow, it wobbled. The window and the floor were dirty, and so were the teal blue and pink waitresses’ uniforms, but the food was good. The milkshake Dale ordered, and that I had a good slorge of, was great. The onion rings were amazing. I had noticed some pies in the display case on our long walk in, so I made sure to save some room for a piece. Unfortunately my first choice, lemon meringue, was unavailable so I had the coconut cream. It was okay, but I left more than half of it on my plate. The waitress was upset that I didn’t enjoy it and offered to comp it, but I wouldn’t let her. It wasn’t her fault. Because we were on a road trip already, Peggy Sue’s was worth it, but I wouldn’t recommend it as a destination, there are far better diners around.

We drove back to Palm Springs on Highway 247. At one point we were on a long stretch of straight road that screamed alien abduction. It was exactly like movie scenes where the UFO sweeps in and a beam of light transports the scared people out of their car. The possibility of such an event became more and more apparent as we climbed up into the high desert, farther and farther away from civilization into the darkening night. Thankfully, the aliens must have been busy and we arrived safely back into the Coachella Valley.

Some years back Billy Connolly, the actor and comedian, rode his motorcycle on Route 66 and a camera crew went with him. It’s called “Billy Connolly Route 66”. It’s available online and worth a watch. Episode 4 covers the part we drove on. Our road trip wasn’t TV worthy but we had a few laughs and made some great memories to recall when we’re too old to go on road trips and make new ones.

So, imagine this. I’m lounging by the pool on a beautiful Palm Springs morning. The sky is an incredible azure, the breeze just discernible. My eyes are shaded by my bright pink sun hat. The sun is hot on my already tanned legs. My darling husband is lounging beside me, minus the hat. It’s a wonderful morning. I’ve been reviewing my script, thinking about what my character wants in each of her scenes. Life is pretty wonderful, then….

Out of the corner of my eyes I see movement. I see a long tail so I’m thinking large squirrel or maybe a resort cat. I turn to look more closely and my heart stops. It’s a flipping roadrunner. It freezes, inches from my lounge, its beady eyes locked with mine. I do what any sensible person does in the presence of a dangerous wild creature. I maintain eye contact but get up and slowly back away. It doesn’t move as I put Dale and his lounge chair between us. It looks away though as the unsuspecting people around me pull out their phones to take pictures of it. I hiss at Dale to get his attention. He nonchalantly turns and sees it. But does he jump up to protect me? Does he do anything to make it go away and never come back? Nope. He gets my phone and takes pictures. The horrid little bird with the long beak and long legs and long tail feathers races around under the chairs. I seem to be the only one aware of the danger. Only I seem to be cognizant of the evil mind behind those beady eyes, luring us into complacency before flying at us, ready to peck out our eyes and feast on our brains.

It refuses to go away. I walk as calmly as I can into the pool. It will not follow me there. My body will be protected by the water, and my eyes are shielded by the large sunglasses I grabbed from the table before making the long,   dangerous walk. I slip into the pool and then turn to locate the predator. It is under some bushes, peering out at me. I put my hands into karate position, ready to defend myself. Dale swims up to me, laughing at my high state of readiness. I whisper the f word to him several times, bemoaning the lack of understanding that the rest of the people have. Then, a man throws a piece of bread to the devious roadrunner. It darts forward and viciously tears the bread into tiny pieces so it can eat it. But I know, the whole time it’s doing that, it is thinking that it would rather peck the man to pieces. Then a woman gets up and gets another piece of bread. I make my decision. I cannot stay by… er tread water by, while these people consort with such dangerous evil.

Without taking my eyes off of the bird, I leave the pool, pull on my cover-up and grab my belongings. With hand signals I tell Dale that I am going up to the room. I walk slowly but steadily across the pool deck, looking back several times to make sure I am not being stalked. Once I am in the building, with the door shut behind me I finally relax. Now I know how Wiley Coyote felt, the poor thing. Oh, the pictures didn’t turn out. I guess this roadrunner was also a vampire, its image could not be recorded. See, told you it was evil. So at home I am stalked by evil crows. Here I am terrorized by evil roadrunners. I’m beginning to get a complex.

Postscript – I guess it wasn’t a vampire roadrunner because this photo turned out, but it was still evil.

So, dear readers, if you’ve been reading my blog posts you know there are reoccurring themes; crows and smoke detectors. Well, I’m in Palm Desert, just outside of Palm Springs and the area isn’t known for crows. So that leaves smoke detectors. Yup, I had a smoke detector adventure on vacation.

First of all, one day while sitting at the pool, I heard alarms. They were faint but I heard them, I always hear them.  They were going off in a building nearby. I turned my head to see which building but I was unable to determine that. There were no fire trucks charging up to the resort gates, there was no smoke in the air and there were no panicked people. So I assumed someone showered with the door open and the steam set off a smoke detector, or someone burned lunch, all of the rooms have kitchen areas. I ignored the alarm and continued reading.

Then, this morning I saw there was a message on our phone. I pushed the voice mail/message button and heard something that struck terror in my heart. The resort was testing and upgrading its fire sprinkler system and our building would be next. The technicians would be there sometime between eight and noon, and we could expect the fire alarm to go off intermittently for up to 5 minutes at a time. Yikes! It was 7:30! I quickly relayed the message to Dale and hit the bathroom. Thankfully my wonderful daughter-in-law Elizabeth had done my lashes before I left on vacation so my morning make-up routine was quick and easy. I pulled on a sundress and a little sweater and then stood by the door waiting for Dale. He laughed at me. Normally I’m a bit of a sluggard in the morning, but I was motivated to get going. We were out the door by 8:00. We didn’t see anyone near the building but I wasn’t going to wait for the workers to arrive. We got into the car and went for breakfast.

We had decided to try some of the great little diners around the area, so hitting one this morning was the perfect thing to do. It took a while to find the one we wanted but soon we were there, sitting on the patio with two pots of tea. The diner was very busy but the servers were hustling. The breakfast menu was extensive but we both found something we wanted. Our meals came quickly. I had a short stack of pancakes and bacon. The large pancakes came on their own plate, with a large dollop of butter sitting atop them. The bacon was crisp and hot. Dale had the Denver omelette with toast and hash browns. Dale isn’t overly fond of shredded hash browns, but these ones were perfect, nicely browned on the outside and hot and soft on the inside. He was willing to share with me, which made me very happy. We lingered a little after our meal as the breakfast rush was over and there was no immediate need for our table.

We couldn’t go back “home” so we went shopping. That was a bit of an adventure but we were able to waste the morning and a good part of the afternoon. My experience has been that workers never finish when they say they will, so we wanted to make sure they had more than enough time to do what they had to do. We got back around 2:30, after stopping for lunch. No workers. No noise. We got changed and went to the pool. The sun was still high in the sky but was moving quickly towards the mountains. I read my script. Dale read for a while then went into the pool. As the sun slipped behind the mountains, the wind came up. Dale was reluctant to leave the pool but eventually he had to. He was a little cold and kept the pool towels wrapped around him as we walked back to our still quiet building. Success! We had avoided the fire alarm fiasco.

I clearly have anxiety around the issue of smoke detectors and alarms. However, it is also clear that the smoke detector union is out to get me. Otherwise, why would they follow me on vacation to another country? Someone needs to look into that.

We love the Palm Springs area. The weather is great, the vibe is laid back and the flight from Vancouver takes just under 3 hours. With our WestJet points, it is an easy and inexpensive getaway to the sun. We planned our trip to Southern California for this November, knowing that we would need the break after the several busy months leading up to Jordan and Elizabeth’s wedding. And of course, Dale is still working, so he really needed the rest and relaxation. Rather than parking at the airport for two weeks and incurring that cost, we drove to Jordan and Elizabeth’s apartment, parked in their underground parking spot and walked to the nearby sky train station. Fifteen minutes later we were at the airport. We breezed through security with our Nexus cards, only held up a little by the couple in front of us who had several carry-on bags with multiple laptops and a little dog. Of course he set off the metal detector when he finally got organized and had to be checked, several times, with the wand. Her backpack was flagged as it went through the X-ray machine and it had to be emptied and all the contents checked. But we were early and so we patiently waited. We had breakfast and then went to our gate. We were in vacation mode and were determined not to be irritated by the little things.

We love the Palm Springs airport. It’s small and easy to navigate. When you leave the gate you walk outside to get to the baggage claim so your first shot of sunshine comes before you even leave the airport! Dale organized the rental car while I waited for our bags. When they arrived we went to the parking lot and started the drive to our first week’s accommodations.

In our research of things to do while in the area, we discovered that Palm Springs Pride would be in full swing during our visit. So we made plans to attend the Pride Parade in the first Sunday of our trip. We were staying in Palm Desert so we got up and drove back to Palm Springs. We parked and walked a couple of blocks to the parade route. We found a great, uncrowded location and sat ourselves on the curb. We struck up a conversation with older gentlemen around us. When they found out we were Canadians they wondered if we were still friends, given the political rhetoric coming from the President about us. We reassured them that we still loved the US and that we supported Americans even if we did not love and support their president. They agreed with that and the conversation continued. Then the parade started and the crowd erupted in joy.

Just like the Vancouver Pride Parade, it started with costumed people on motorcycles. They raced up and down the street, cheering and interacting with the crowd. The next parade entry was a while in coming, but after that everything flowed well.  We were a little surprised to see that fully armed police officers were stationed on most corners and fully armed officers rode up and down the parade route on motorcycles at regular intervals. We didn’t feel unsafe but we were in the US, where firearms are a way of life and wingnuts like to shoot people who think, act and live differently than themselves. However, the overall mood was of happiness and acceptance, even though one of the floats exhorted people to get married while they still could, a not so subtle hint about the current political climate. There was a political presence as the mid-terms were only a few days away. The Democratic candidate for Congress had a lot of supporters walking with him and they received a very warm welcome; the Republican candidate did not participate.

Two things struck me about this parade. First of all, there were a lot of local middle, junior high, high schools and colleges who marched behind their Gay Straight Alliances banners. Seeing the youth of America stepping up gave me encouragement. Secondly, just about every parade entry had signs urging acceptance of everyone, including immigrants. Now, I know California is considered a blue state and the world thinks they are flaky Liberals, but still, to see and feel such acceptance and encouragement from US citizens made me hopeful. We will be here during the mid-term elections, I wonder if this feeling will continue after the results come in.