July 22

Well it’s summertime (for 5 minutes) and we need to enjoy it. 92 days...2208 hours..... and only 4 July Saturday nights! This first part of our vacation was in Fairmont. Our last Fairmont. Ever. Forever. For fucking ever. Fairmont is not Shit Show Ready. They hate us....well not all of us but for sure Tracy. They definitely hate Tracy. We cannot play music loud, we cannot party after 11:00 (but to be fair we cannot always party after 11:00 at many locations around the world) 

But It has been a great ride. 20-ish years of annual pilgrimages to our western neighbor. We have fought skunks and pack rats. We have drank (roughly) 80 gallons of wine, 70 gallons of vodka, 112 flats of beer and 2 bottles of water. 

We have had the ambulance called once (Jordyn Williams) and the 👮 once (not us but the neighbors ....I swear to God). Met very nice people from round the world and some very pretentious, awful people (and honestly, they were mostly from Alberta - but they DEFINITELY voted NDP)

We went on morning walks that are, honestly the fucking worst thing I’ve ever done in my life. Seriously, I would rather go through labor then do those fucking walks. Tracy and Jen suddenly become Olympic athletes and sprint up the side of a fucking Mountain and turn (with there amazing hair and lack of face sweat) and patronizingly encourage me, “come on Fat Stacy, it’s only a little further”. Fucking healthy, skinny fit bitches. I am gasping for air regretting my 16 chicken wings and 4 beer from the night before. But I swear to God when I make it to the top of the hill it is the most euphoric, orgasmic experience ever. I cry. I hug everyone. I thank my mom and dad, God, the Academy. I pull out my thank you speech that I prepared the night before and reminisce about my Grade 3 teacher (Mrs. Currie) - it’s that fucking amazing. But guess what?! I NEVER HAVE TO DO IT AGAIN!! 

We have had wonderful campfire sing songs and once Michael Rodriguez even brought his guitar and entertained us! We have floated down the Columbia and soaked in the White Swan Hot Springs. We have gone to the hot tub until someone pooped in the pool and caused immediate evacuation. 

We made the Darian and Dekker sleep in tents when it was substantially below freezing (we seriously didn’t give them an option but like the god parents we are we gave them touques, mittens and wool socks... and news flash ....they made it through the the night). 

Anyway, the Fairmont chapter is over for now. We a more definitely bush campers! 

 

July 6

It is statement to how boring my life is when I am blogging about mowing my lawn. 

We have a beautiful yard that includes 10,000 acres of lawn. It takes a solid 6 hours of mowing (okay, it takes Ryan 6 hours because he is a lawn ninja - it takes me 4 hours because I have the lawnmower on NASCAR setting). I have a love hate relationship with my lawnmower, it starts as soon as I back it out of the shed (which was built too close to the barbed wire fence - this stems from a long ago fight between Ryan and I when I said, “we are NOT too close to the property line. Build the shed here.” Once the shed was built I quickly realized that the lawnmower backs directly into the fence and Ryan was right. Whatever!) So the first part of mowing includes a 16 point turn to get the bloody machine out. Then I’m off. 

I have two dogs that have toys, sticks, various bones from animals that I cannot even comprehend how they got them. I have had a dead beaver, a premature fawn (dead long before my dog awarded me with it), a prairie chicken, an entire hind end of a deer that was hit on the highway and always, always dead mice in various states of decay. So I prepare myself for the Discovery Channel of opportunities that await me. I’m half way through mowing before I remember that I forgot to put sunscreen on my face and I am going to have my Super Hero mask on (tanned face and glowing white circles around my eyes from my sunglasses). I also recently started mowing the ditch along the road- why not right? It does look great, but it also adds another hour...  I have a technique for mowing over rocks in the ditch - I close my eyes and pray. It is 60% effective. It also reinforces what I already knew....God only listens to me 60% of the time. I was very happy to realize that the last time Ryan mowed he moved all of the rocks. This also reinforces what I already knew.....Ryan listens to me 65% of the time. 

I also don’t know how, why or when this started but every time I mow, EVERYTIME, I sing songs from the Sound of Music. This actually applies to any time I am quiet, in any setting, on everyday of my life. I am not contemplating the meaning of life or calculating the interest we’ve paid on our mortgage (I do actually do this as well), I’m thinking, “What the fuck is the second verse of 16 Going on 17?!” 

The other pet peeve I have is that if my lawnmower runs out of gas it is ALWAYS the furthest possible location from the Gerry can. And it is a well known fact that it cost $40 to fill up a Gerry can and it weighs 100 pounds full and I am destined to spill $8.00 on my lawn. 

I also turn my head, sing What Do We Do With A Problem Like Maria as loud as I can a run over the already decapitated mice and pretend they weren’t there. I think I am assisting Mother Nature in biodegrading. Can we all go with that one? 

Anyway, on to my second least favourite job.....cleaning the holiday trailer. 😖