December 13, 2010
Management apologies for the unscheduled pre-emption of this programming for the creation of the World Music project: Bollywood: Music, Dance and Film. Regular scheduled programming will resume immediately.
In fairness, Em's Bollywood project was not the sole reason for my bloglessness this weekend.
There have been forces beyond my control working diligently to prevent me from blogging.
Functionally illiterate students.
Functionally illiterate students who hand in essays.
Functionally illiterate students who hand in essays and then expect me to read them.
Functionally illiterate students who hand in essays and then expect me to read them AND hold on to my sanity.
I am in for a long slog through these essays and assignments.
Not to mention the 2103 final exam scheduled for tomorrow morning at 9.00 am.
And the hopefully soon to be over book edits.
Luckily, I have conveniently "forgotten" when the grades are due so as to not create unnecessary stress on my already fragile person.
But that doesn't mean the mistress of stress and insanity isn't continuing to work her magic upon me.
Yesterday Stephen and I spent part of the afternoon visiting with my sister-in-law Kathryn, who was rushed to the hospital Friday morning at one am.
She has been diagnosed with an incredibly rare illness, Neuro-Behcets.
For more info:
http://www.ninds.nih.gov/disorders/behcet/behcet.htm
My brother, who has perhaps the worst luck of anyone I have ever encountered, called to ask if we would pick him up Sunday on our way to the hospital.
The transmission in his car had decided to pick now for an extended vacation.
Of course I am going to pick up my brother on the way to the hospital to see his wife.
And off we went.
This was a drive we have taken many, many times.
We know how to get there.
On a good day, it'll take about an hour.
My brother lives in a very remote and rural area. . unless you know where you're going, a sherpa guide is practically a must.
Early in this journey, we are confronted with the proverbial fork in the road.
Moncton, or Saint John?
Why Moncton, of course.
Which is the reason we, for some reason unfathomable to either Stephen or myself, went to Saint John.
Stephen argues it is because we inadvertently assumed we were going directly to the hospital in Saint John.
He was just trying to be kind.
The road to Saint John is one of the few one way each way highways (say THAT ten times as fast as you can!) in this area.
The road to Moncton is your standard, two lane each way highways.
I suspect the only reason it even dawned on us that we were headed in the wrong direction was because at one point, I thought to myself,
"If we were on the two lane highway to Moncton, we wouldn't be stuck behind this boob!"
Suddenly, the lights came on.
I sat in the passenger seat of the car for at least a full minute, stunned by the knowledge that we were going in the wrong direction.
Finally, knowing I was going to have to share my newfound information with Stephen, I said,
"We're going in the wrong direction."
SJP: What do you mean?
Me: We're supposed to be going to Cambridge Narrows first.
SJP: Aw Shit!
He actually made other profane pronouncements, but I am trying to keep it clean.
Then we both sat in the front seat, staring out the window, stunned by the fact that we simply forgot where we were going during a journey we had taken many, many times.
I don't even think there's a word for that level of stupid.
We stop at the Irving in Wellsford, and ask the young Irving employee if he knows how to get to Cambridge Narrows from Wellsford.
"I've never heard of Cambridge Narrows."
I just looked at him.
Apparently, it was Stupid All Around Day.
I wish someone had told me before I left the house.
I asked him if he could direct me to a map.
He managed to find those.
Back in the car, Stephen and I look at the map, and realize that we either turn around and go back to the proverbial fork in the road, or. . .
. . .call my brother and tell him where we were and what we did.
Somehow, he didn't sound as surprised as I thought he would.
He said to drive to Saint John, stay on the Number 1 until we get to the Bloomfield exit.
And then call him back so he can direct us through the backroads of rural southern New Brunswick.
Lovely.
A drive through the remotest regions of rural NB.
Where did I put that sherpa?
What he didn't tell us was that the Bloomfield exit was a 35 minute drive from the Saint John toll bridge.
So, the one hour drive to my brother's house, and the 30 minute drive to the hospital from there turned into a three hour drive.
And then, we had to return my brother to his nesting place, and then head back home.
Instead of arriving back in Fredericton in time to retrieve Em from her subservience to Empire Theaters at 5.00, we arrived home at 8.30.
I missed my Sunday evening Antiques Roadshow/Creatures fix.
Instead, I came home, poured myself a rather large brandy and ginger ale, ate some of the chicken cacciatore I had made for what was supposed to be our Sunday family dinner together and then went to bed.
Exhausted.
And still stunned by our collective, combined stupidity.
Now, not all was a disaster.
We were privy to the beautiful vestige of a recent snowfall in that area, a snowfall we certainly did not get here.
Trees bent forward with the weight of their snowy baggage. . .evergreens, birches. . .there were no houses so we felt that we were driving through a hidden passage few travellers ever have the privilege of experiencing.
Absolutely breathtaking.
A moment of pure appreciation for the wonders of Mother Nature, broken by Stephen uttering,
"I feel like I'm in Narnia."
So remote was this area that we actually had to negotiate our way through not one, but two, one lane only covered bridges.
Stephen practically peed his pants he was so excited about driving over these one lane covered bridges with planks, not cement, holding up our car.
I covered my eyes and hoped we had enough life insurance to cover both our funerals.
We had a lovely visit with Kathryn, who is managing as best as any one could under the circumstances.
We were able to spend time with Jerry, something we don't get to do as often as we would want to.
The kids were all busy elsewhere, so it was, for most of the day, time for Stephen and me.
And because I felt bad about taking the wrong fork, and that Stephen did all the driving, I forced myself to stay awake the entire drive, there and back.
As opposed to giving into the temptations of my automotive narcalepsy, that happens within 10 minutes of me being in a car, and not driving.
If I'm driving, there is no fear of falling asleep.
How come Stephen did all the driving?
Because the roads to my brother's house, once off the highway, are indeed the roads less travelled. . .
By us and by all road workers, snow plows, etc.
People who live where my brother lives often have pick ups and/or 4 wheel drives.
But not usually 2006 Ford Focus station wagons with a dog gate and wonky mud guard.
Nonetheless, sometimes it may happen that if I am behind the wheel of our car whilst we travel these roads less travelled, I may, perchance, revert to the rural road driving of my youth and forget that our 2006 Ford Focus station wagon isn't a pick up truck.
And on more than one occasion, I may have, perhaps, caused Stephen a small increment of concern as I speedily negotiate and maneuver my way through the winding and narrow roads of really rural southern New Brunswick.
I once may have actually become airborne traversing these roads while driving my mother's Hyundai Elantra.
I only know this because Stephen was driving our car, behind me, and claims he saw the entire thing.
Thus, Stephen insists now on being the road captain of any adventures leading us in the direction of my brother's house.
But, you can't repress the rural road driving diva forever.
She will ride again.
Because she is born to be wild. . .
At least when driving through the really rural roads of southern New Brunswick. . . .
Title Lyrics: Born to be Wild by Steppenwolf
Love that story! I hope that Jerry and Kathryn are coping as well as they can!
ReplyDelete