We are on vacation!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Yesterday morning, at 7.30 , we awoke and began the two hour process of getting the cars packed and ready to go.
Not an easy process with two cavorting canines dancing around your feet, following you everywhere you go, standing in front of you when you needed to move forward.
And that was before we packed up Frankie’s crate.
As soon as the crate was folded and put into the living room, all hell broke loose.
From that moment on, they acted as if we were conjoined twins, attached at the hip, because they knew something was going on and they were not going to be left behind.
No way.
And of course it was very humid, meaning with all the running around and collecting things, Stephen was starting to look like he was lactating.
Keith was a great help, running up and down the stairs for things I needed, forgotten on an already was downstairs trip, lugging things, like Frankie’s crate and the very heavy coolers out to the car.
Em, in true diva fashion, took care of herself while the rest of us were running around like chickens with our heads cut off.
In fact, when the cars were packed, the house issues, like watering plants addressed, Stephen, Keith and I ready to go, we had to wait for Em.
Just like every other time we go anywhere together.
So we sat down and watched Coronation Street whilst waiting for M’Lady to get herself beautified, organized and packed.
I don’t even want to know what she brought with her.
Finally, we are ready to go.
Stephen and Keith squeeze themselves into the air conditioned, leather seated, Sirius satellite radio’d Ford Escape, complete with Tikka and Frankie as their back, backseat drivers.
Me and Em pile into her Hyundai Elantra, sans air conditioning, with standard radio, groceries as our only companions.
Other than each other of course.
It was a hot drive with no air conditioning, hot air blowing through the vents and no open windows because that compromises gas consumption.
We stopped for lunch and bathroom needs at the Salisbury Big Stop, at which point, after driving for an hour and a half, dodging in and out of lanes, keeping her speed and remaining vigilant, Em was pooped.
This was her longest driving expedition thus far.
She was ready to turn over the reigns to someone else and just sit and relax.
Further, excitement only ensures that Tikka and Frankie will generate more pee and poo than you could imagine two dogs could manage.
Sure enough, there was a steady stream of pee from both of them.
And poo, too.
In particular, Tikka, who took it upon herself the night before, while everyone was snug as bugs in rugs, to partake of a delicious bag of marshmallows.
Creating interesting experiences for those of us who know her, love her and have to watch her expel said marshmallows.
A break then, was more than necessary.
While eating lunch, I informed Stephen and Keith that their lap of luxury driving experience had come to an end, as in a state of chivalry, all things right, and my telling them, we were trading vehicles.
Em and I needed an opportunity to dry our sweat drenched garments.
Stephen was, of course, more than obliging.
Keith less so.
Too bad.
I outrank him.
We arrived at our little home away from home around 2.00 pm.
This was THE moment.
Would this cottage be what we had hoped for?
Or would we again experience the holiday from hell we endured last summer at Hilda’s-House-of-Horrors in Mergomish?
Nope.
Perfect.
This place is perfect.
Odd, as most cottages are prone to have things about them that mark them as unique.
For example, the fridge is in the entry way, the stove in the family/tv room, and the square-u shaped kitchen not big enough for two people to stand side by side.
Or at least not big enough for me to stand side by side with someone else.
But it’s functional, has enough space for me to do what I have to do, so I can schlep to the fridge and have one of the kids watch the stove as they peruse the satellite television.
By 3.00 pm the cars were unloaded, food put away, bedrooms selected and filled with our various odds and ends.
Meaning it was time for the beach.
Which was good, because Frankie was apoplectic at this point, knowing there was an ocean somewhere, the smell of salt air tantalizing his nostrils.
It was all we could have wanted and more.
Outside of the fact that the family from whom we are renting use the vast land behind us as a family campground.
Several trailers, campers, RVs dot the landscape from our backdoor to the beach.
So long as there isn’t too much socializing, I’m good.
I socialize 51 weeks of the year.
One off doesn’t seem like too much to ask.
Before heading to the beach, however, we needed to change.
I never managed to get a smaller bathing suit.
When I put my bathing suit on, the crotch was at my knees.
It looks like you’re wearing a dress! Stephen exclaimed, while laughing at me.
Hmmmmmm. . .where are those black, spandex shorts I packed?????
Because wandering to the beach in a 1850s looking bathing suit was not my idea of a good time.
And I could only imagine what it was going to be like when wet.
A maxi dress, perhaps?
Move over Angelina Jolie.
The beach was perfect.
Tide on the way out, water warm and so salty you could see the salt in the water.
Walking down the steps to the beach, we were treated to a ocean vista that made me, (and not for the first time I suspect) wish for my camera.
To the left, there were rocks bigger than any I’d ever seen before, creating a barrier between our beach and the next.
Luckily, these rocks were traversable and we were able to walk over them to the next beach.
Affording us a little more privacy.
Meaning we could let Frankie off his leash to swim and play as much as he wanted.
And believe me, he wanted.
Keith threw sticks. Frankie retrieved them.
Two sticks are a must, as Frankie adamantly refuses to drop anything he is holding in his mouth unless he assesses there is a better offer on tap.
Stephen, Em and I basked in the coolness of the salt water, all of us warm and wanting from our hot, sticky drive.
Tikka waded in to her belly and then barked at us when we refused to come in to where she was comfortable.
Keith has already suffered his first I-was-throwing-sticks-for-Frankie injury.
More will happen.
To all of us.
Believe me.
Swimming and other shenanigans experienced, it was time for supper.
We don’t own a BBQ.
Although after a week with one, I imagine we’ll be picking one up on sale when we return to Fredericton.
And Keith loves to BBQ.
Tonight’s menu: steak.
And he did an excellent job making sure mine was rare and Stephen’s and Em were not.
Accompanied by fresh corn on the cob and salad, with homemade apple pie for dessert, it was the perfect meal to celebrate our coming to the cottage.
After supper, Stephen and I went out onto the front porch and just sat.
Evening breeze blowing around us.
Frankie and Tikka drying out.
Heavenly.
Simply heavenly.
Title Lyric: Sitting on the Front Porch by Dolly Parton
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