August 24, 2011
Vacation: Day Three
I can’t believe it’s Wednesday already.
How come the weeks drag by when you’re waiting for your vacation, and then engage in warp speed when you’re finally in your happy place?
Just a thought to ponder.
It was shower day today, and no one wanted to go to PEI with fuzzy legs, unshaved faces and smelling like BO.
At home, it feels as if we have an endless supply of water.
Here, we are on a well.
I grew up on well water.
My spoiled city children have not.
And when I informed Em she could stay in the shower for no longer than five minutes because there were three other people who wanted to shower, the look she gave me was somewhere between incredulous and you-have-to-be-shitting-me.
And for once she knew I was serious.
I then left to take the dogs to the beach.
Telling her she had to compact her beautification from 30 minutes to 5 was one thing.
Experiencing it?
I am not that stupid.
Keith would be more than happy to monitor her, as the time it takes her to shower is at the top of Keith’s List of Pet Peeves.
In fact, when I was preparing to tell her about her limited shower time, he ran in behind me and said,
I wanna see this.
Sibling love abounds around here.
PEI is beautiful.
After an hour and a half ramble on the beach to ensure maximum dog exhaustion for the time we would be away, we had lunch, piled into the SUV and headed for PEI.
Which is beautiful and close.
As in literally twenty minutes from the driveway of our cottage to the other side of the Confederation Bridge close.
Driving across the CB, PEI became bigger and bigger, closer and closer, the red sand beaches beckoning us, tantalizing us with their glorious red sand.
I so wanted to stop, but the kids, it would seem, were desperate for city air, so off to Charlottetown went.
Only 52 kilometers from the CB.
We had a lovely drive through little villages and hamlets dotting the coastline.
Albany.
Cornwall.
Hampton.
And Stephen’s favourite: Crapeau.
The day was perfect. . .warm sun streaming through the sun roof.
Breezes following us as we took in the gloriousness of PEI.
Every few kilometres a sign for New Potatoes would greet us.
And for potato palates far more sophisticated than ours, there were additional signs indicating which potatoes where in season.
Within minutes, it seemed, we were in Cornwall, which seems to be a suburb of Charlottetown, and then the next thing I know, I see a Wal-Mart, Indigo book store, an Atlantic Superstore, McDonalds, Swiss Chalet, the Charlottetown Mall. . . .
Sighs of relief and recognition emanated from the backseat as the kids welcomed the familiar sites and sounds of civilization.
We had already decided, however, that our destination was downtown Charlottetown.
Where new experiences awaited us.
And we were right.
First, downtown Charlottetown has to be the EASIEST downtown city in North America to find parking.
All of which is diagonal, eliminating the let’s-watch-the-idiot-try-an-parallel-park opportunities.
And $1.00 an hour. . .I think I can handle that.
Not only was parking so easy a toddler could do it, we also parked next to my Mecca of civilization.
Starbucks.
I was out of the Escape and in the Starbucks line before Stephen had fully parked.
I’ll have a grande decaf and a venti mild I said to the young girl behind the counter.
She looks at me.
Dr. Clarke, right?
Not in Charlottetown five full minutes.
I put on my Dr. Dawne smile, and reply,
Why yes! What year did you graduate from STU?
She told me, and then reminded both Stephen and myself that she had taken classes with us.
Methods with me.
Theory with Stephen.
Damned if I could remember her name.
She saved me the embarrassment and just told me.
Clearly remembering, if nothing else from any of my classes, that I am absolutely incapable of remembering names.
She informed us that she was currently enrolled in the B.Ed. program at UPEI and was just loving it.
At which point she gave me my coffee, I wished her all the best, and got out of there hoping that I wouldn’t encounter anyone else I knew, taught or otherwise engaged with for the duration of our visit to Charlottetown.
Coffee in hand, we just started wandering.
As I do when I am in any new city, my eyes were peeled for a used book store.
And I figured with a university not 5 minutes up the road, there was bound to be at least one.
Ambling up some street in downtown Charlottetown, we pass a coffee house window and seconds later here,
KEITH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Seems I’m not the only one who knows people all over.
A rather lovely looking young woman soon had my son’s attention as she asked him,
What are you doing here?
Family thing, he replied.
I think he would have talked a lot more with her had we not been there.
Em was the first one of us to spot a store of interest.
Vintage clothing store.
Inside the small store, she wandered amid racks of 1960s plaid skirts and shirts that screamed put me out of my misery.
I happened to glance down at a table to notice a small pile of books.
Em, Keith, I said, look!
And held up the Gremlin’s book.
But it was the book underneath the Gremlin’s book that immediately transported me back to 1979, the year I turned twelve and fell in love for the first time.
Shaun Cassidy.
A book detailing the life, albeit it short at that point, of Shaun Cassidy who rocketed to the top of the Casey Kasem American Top 40s chart with his rendition of FIND SONG NAME which was followed by such memorable tunes as “Hey Deenie” and “
I loved Shaun Cassidy.
Posters of his oh-so-handsome-to-my-12-year-old-eyes adorned by door and walls.
Records, books, and even a Shaun Cassidy t-shirt were critical parts of my pre-teen living experience.
When I was snapped from my preteen reverie, I held the book up for the kids to see.
I had this book! I exclaimed with such enthusiasm the bored shop keeper even looked up from his computer to see what had caused such excitement in his little shop.
Em smiled and said, “Really Mum????”
Keith just rolled his eyes.
Stephen didn’t even know who Shaun Cassidy was.
Fine. Me and my preteen self are more than happy to keep Shaun close to our hearts thank you very much.
We headed for Government House, the Birthplace of Confederation, only to be told that we couldn’t go upstairs with our beverages.
Walking out the other end of Government House we were greeted with a lovely little street for pedestrians only.
Shops and restaurants on one side.
The Charlottetown Arts Center on the other.
Natty Knitwear was one of the shops we explored.
Sweaters, hats, gorgeous mitts for covering hands on those cold, winter days, socks of all sizes, baby booties.
Moccasins, slippers, stained glass earrings.
Stephen bought me a pair of stained glass earrings.
They are beautiful.
And food.
Specifically sauces.
One caught my eye, simply because of the name:
“Holy Crap That’s Hot” sauce.
So I bought a bottle.
We’ll report on said hotness at a later date.
I could have stayed in there all day, but there were so many other adventures waiting, I tore myself away.
The Anne of Green Gables store was our next stop.
Em and Keith were not excited about this stop at all.
But I love the books.
And I wanted to see what was inside.
It was All Anne All the Time.
Including the most beautiful all white, hand stitched cotton nightgowns.
Perhaps by next summer there’ll be one in my size.
And bottles of Raspberry Cordial.
Only those people who have read Anne will know how come this is significant.
Stephen was also not excited about this particular stop, so we were only in there a few minutes before we departed and headed back out into the streets of downtown Charlottetown to see what other adventures awaited us.
The nice thing about the kids being the ages they are, and that we all have cell phones is that I can send their bored selves away from me, within reason, to explore the things they want to explore.
After Anne that is what I did.
Because after Anne came the piece de resistance pour moi.
Across the street was what I had been looking for since we arrived downtown.
After Starbucks, anyway.
Used book store.
And not one, but two!
Almost next door to one another.
With a hasty bye to the kids and a promise to call them to reconnect when I was finished I was off like a blue streak across the street, dragging Stephen with me in my wake.
The first store was chaos.
Fine.
My life is chaos so this I can handle.
What I can’t handle is unorganized chaos.
Which was the primary item on the menu for this particular book store.
After spending 15 minutes trying to figure out how the books were organized, I gave up.
Plus, it was a very small space filled with a lot of books and Stephen was getting very edgy.
So off we went to the next book store, me resting all my eggs in one basket that this one would be more welcoming and less chaotic.
It was.
Stephen parked himself outside on a chair to enjoy the sights and sounds of the street while I walked into the most organized, well maintained book store I’ve ever seen.
The Bookman.
That’s the name of this small corner of paper and hard backed heaven in case you’re in the downtown Charlottetown area.
Floor to ceiling built-into-the-wall shelves provided the homes for the alphabetically arranged books.
Hardwood floors subtly creaked underneath the feet of patrons looking for those hard to find books.
Or who wanted to save a few dollars on a good paperback.
In my case, Val McDermid’s The Mermaids Singing.
The first book in the Tony Hill/Carol Jordan series.
I’ve been watching the tv programme, Wire in the Blood, which intrigued me enough to want to read the books.
Our local Chapters didn’t have the first book, which was published in 1995, so this seemed to me to be a prime opportunity to see if I could find it in a used book store.
And I did.
In less than five minutes after walking through the door.
Of course, I bought book three.
I already have book two.
And certainly I needed to see what other treasures were hidden within these ceiling to floor shelves so I began my explorations.
While in an aisle, perusing the classics section, my subconscious registered an unmistakable sound.
Jingling dog tags.
My mind took a few seconds to catch up before a neon sign in my head started flashing at me: There is a dog in here!!!!!!!
I retraced my steps and sure enough, in the aisle I had just departed stood a sheltie.
Books and dogs?
I was in heaven.
And a friendly dog she was.
The owner of the store informed me that she was 13 years old, and her name, aptly enough, was Books.
Books’ affection and attention, plus the books in hand were all I needed.
And I almost did stay there all afternoon, until Stephen came in and reminded me he was sitting outside.
In light of the books and Books, I had forgotten he was, as always, sitting patiently outside waiting for me.
I’m only human.
For the remainder of the afternoon we wandered all around downtown Charlottetown.
Into the residential areas, even.
A beautiful park was not a five minute walk from the middle of downtown, so we headed in that direction.
More of a square than a park.
But still.
After walking through the park with its glorious floral displays, we walked by the houses surrounding the park.
Old, Victorian homes that were maintained in pristine condition.
One in particular caught my eye.
The Retirement Home for Women.
And sure enough, the windows of this beautiful structure revealed the presence of women only on the inside.
Not a man insight.
Which may explain why several of them started waving at Stephen and Keith as we walked by.
After three hours of walking, which was desperately needed in my case because my diet has not been followed as stringently as it should be. . . .
. . . .the kids were starting to become more vocal about the need for me to pick a place for my birthday supper so they could sit down and refuel.
I selected an Irish pub. . .the Irish Triangle.
Traditional Irish food is more than satisfying for weary travellers.
Although the only one of us to actually eat traditional Irish food was Keith.
Bangers and mash was his choice for supper.
Buttermilk mashed potatoes served with two spicy, delicious sausages, red pepper and onions and gravy.
I know how good it was because I had a bite of it before he did.
Em, always wary of food, had her usual fish and chips.
Stephen had the special: curry seafood penne.
So delicious.
I had the lean ground turkey burger with pita.
And fries.
It is my birthday after all.
And if a girl can’t eat fries on her birthday, what’s the point in living?
Following our delicious meal, we returned to the car to begin our journey back to Murray Corner.
But there was one more stop to make.
Keith forgot his belt at home.
So he’s spent our vacation, thus far, buttoning his pants and then putting the button in his first belt loop, making it look as if he’d forgotten to zip his fly.
We spied a Mark’s Work Wearhouse on our way out of Charlottetown, so we pulled into the parking lot surrounded by box store so Keith could get a belt.
Of course, an Indigo bookstore happened to be in the same area, so Em hopped out of the car to quickly scan inside.
I remained with Stephen, even though the call, the pull of the bookstore was almost more than I could bear.
But I, too, had a mission.
Atlantic Superstore.
We needed cheese.
Imagine that, with Stephen in our midst.
So Stephen and I wandered through the aisles of the Superstore while we waited for the kids to return.
And then, finally, we were truly off.
Only to stop just before the Confederation Bridge to fill up the tank.
Because gas prices in PEI were 1.18 and gas prices across the bridge in New Brunswick were 1.26.
So yeah, we stopped to fill the tank.
At home we were greeted with yips and wails from our beleaguered canines who probably thought we were never coming back.
As we sat down to end our day with a board game, there was one more surprise in store for me.
The kids and Stephen turned out the dining room lights and treated me to a rousing chorus of Happy Birthday while placing a cherry cheesecake AND a caramel cheesecake in front of me, along with a glass of Bailey’s Irish Cream to help wash it all down.
WOW!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Simply for what, again?
So delicious.
But. . . .
A day of eating things I don’t normally eat, plus perhaps getting a little tipsy from the Bailey’s lead to a rather unpleasant night.
I had an honest to goodness stomach ache.
And no relief in sight because my gag reflex is set so high only being pregnant results in any upchucking opportunities.
THAT was not happening, believe me.
So I spent a rather unpleasant night thinking of everything that was roiling around inside causing me all this grief.
But you know what?
It was worth it.
Title Lyric: Bud the Spud by Stompin' Tom Connors
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