Vacation Countdown: 17 days!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Family shenanigans have put Stephen in a frustrated, confused angry space.
And no, this time it isn't anything to do with the kids or any other member of my side of the family.
He was also tense because the contractors didn't show up Tuesday.
Which only added another specific reasoning for his general crankiness.
I only found out yesterday morning that they did call to see if they could come over, but, they called at 9.30 at which time I was in the car, driving Keith to work.
But as I am the only person who is regularly awake before eight am in this house, and I was out of the house, no one got their call.
And they called again at 3.00.
At that point in the day, however, I had already enacted my scheme to ease Stephen's mind.
A change of scenery.
Getting him out of the house, away from the computer, especially Facebook, a valiant effort to get him to use his energies for good instead of evil.
We went to Starbucks.
Taking work with us, we sat at the mini tables they provide.
Tables that are made for coffee and nibblies.
And not the overloaded piles of paper, books, pens, highlighters, and post it notes that accompanied us for our escape from reality.
Still, we persevered.
For a Tuesday, Starbucks was very, very busy.
There isn't much else to do during a thunder-lightening-rain soaked day in Fredericton except go the the mall.
See a movie perhaps.
Our timing was, in part, to work at Starbucks, drink coffee, perhaps munch on a shared nibblie, while we waited for Keith finished work.
I went into the theaters to tell Keith where we would be when he finished, to which he replied he didn't need a drive because he and his friend were doing something after work, but, Em was no longer working a double shift, and she would be finished by four thirty.
I didn't care who was finished at four thirty, just so long as when I left Starbucks, there was a child of one kind or another in the car with me.
How much work we were able to accomplish probably sits on the side of a very little.
But my scheme to take Stephen's mind off his familial frustrations was a success.
Because it wasn't so much about work that was my motivation.
Just getting him around other people.
Knowing that in Fredericton on a rainy Tuesday at Starbucks, we were bound to run into someone we know.
And we did.
And he joined us for a nice chat about the opera, his recent trip to Europe, the contractor chaos in our house. . . .
Providing Stephen with the much needed conversational outlet he needed.
So that by the time Em showed up actually ready to leave, Stephen was in a much better frame of mind than when we arrived.
I so owe that friend a nice meal.
Stephen was in such better spirits that we decided to go out for dinner.
On our limited budget, on a Tuesday, that means only one thing.
Swiss Chalet.
It was a day, however, where the familiar was comforting.
Welcoming.
Not a day for new things or surprises, but a day where we draw upon the well known to provide the stability we need when we need it.
Stephen partook of the chicken quesadilla with side salad and decaf.
Em, a hamburger, no cheese, no tomato, and of course, fries.
Someone had to get fries.
How else would I have been able to have a couple?
And a chicken club wrap with side salad and diet Pepsi (even though I would much prefer diet Coke) for me.
Just what the doctor ordered.
I am a doctor.
So it worked.
Everyone returned home happy, full bellies, content, ready to take on whatever the evening threw at us.
Sometimes the best plan is no plan.
After coming home from dinner, I settled in for a couple of hours reading.
Anything in a futile attempt to abate the increasing panic over the beginning of classes.
Just as I was getting ready to open my book and begin highlighting, Pookie comes into the kitchen and asks if I'd like to play Scrabble.
Scrabble, you say?
The game no one wants to play with me because I always win?
The game no one wants to play with me because I read a lot and know lots and lots of words?
Yes.
Indeed.
I would love to play Scrabble.
Pushing books, computer, highlighters aside, I prepared for a mind bending, heart racing game of Scrabble.
I do love Scrabble.
And playing with the kids, at their request?
Who could refuse?
Actually, Stephen refused.
He is less fond of Scrabble than I.
Em agreed to play, but her participation was short lived, when during our pre-game-setting-everything-up conversations Keith said something about something that happened at work to which Em replied why did you have to bring that up to which Keith responded because it was funny at which point Em decided she was NOT going to play because she was mad and it would affect her game.
I was so fine with that.
Because there are Scrabble rules and then there are Em-is-playing-Scrabble rules.
Plus, the last time she got mad playing Scrabble she actually threw things.
And she cheats.
But I still love playing with her.
And if she came downstairs right now, at 8.22 am while I am trying to wake up with my venti mug of coffee, waiting for the contractors to show up because they called this morning and said the were coming, I would stop blogging for a game of Scrabble.
I'd pretty much stop anything for a game of Scrabble.
Not playing did not mean Em didn't participate.
Drawing on a tradition started by her grandfather (my father) she sat at the table and commentated.
My father is notorious for this.
When my brother and I were younger, living at home, playing Scrabble, Trivial Pursuit, Probe, even crazy eights, he would wander in and out of the kitchen offering his two cents here and his two cents there.
All he was really doing was annoying us.
We would threaten him.
Nothing worked.
Em is the same.
She sat while we played, egging Keith on, looking at letters, asking how much longer because she had a game she wanted to play and in the course of concentrating on letters to make words that would blow the opponent out of the water, Keith and I agreed to play her game.
Keith was also supping on some ice cold Kokanee while we were playing and it became clear to me, especially towards the end of the game that the Kokanee was having an effect on him.
He was more relaxed.
Less intense.
Laughing.
I never realized how intense Keith was under normal circumstances.
Growing up with Mer, Em and me would have that effect on any young man I suspect.
I won.
Of course.
But only by 26 points.
Leading me to think that the day when the grasshopper out does the master may be moving closer.
Cottage time will tell.
Because we play a lot of Scrabble at the cottage.
A lot.
After we finished playing Scrabble, we moved on to Em's choice of board game activity.
Smart Ass.
But a lot of fun.
Making you realise how the most obvious things can escape your notice.
And that sometimes you really don't know all that you think you know, and under certain game-intensified caught up in the heightened energy circumstances when all you want to do is get the correct answer so you can roll you blurt out the first thing that comes to you mind before thinking through what it means so that Japan all of a sudden becomes part of Europe.
Now, who would be so competitive as to say something like that?
And while we were playing Stephen returned from his Superstore sojourn, laden with necessities, supplies and treats for the kids.
He loves trivia games.
A lot more than word games.
And so once we had finished our first round of Smart Ass, we began another game that included Stephen.
Stephen is a lot of fun to play with.
On so many different levels.
Board games that require reading trivia cards while wearing the worst pair of glasses you own is one of those Stephen-only experiences.
Leading to such comments as, "and a cult passed through a subway station. . ." instead of "a cult GASSED a subway station. . ."
Further, Stephen is quite competitive.
And excitable.
The more excitable he gets, the louder his responses become.
So that by the end, he was screaming such things as "STATUE OF LIBERTY!!!!!!!!!!!!" and "CROSSWORD PUZZLE!!!!!!!!!!!!"
When the last game wrapped up at around 10.30 pm, it was clear that a good time was had by all.
A very good time.
Sometimes the best plan is no plan at all.
Title Lyric: Makin' Plans by Miranda Lambert
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