saint-louise's Diaryland Diary

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Off we go, into the tame, almost-Canadian yonder...

Iím nervous about something, even though Iím not feeling particularly anxious. I can tell this because I donít feel like eating. At all. Even sweet things. Even sushi. Even malai kofta, medium spicy, with naan and a glass of wine.

Okay, maybe the wine sounds good.

See? Nervous.

OrÖuh, an alcoholic.

I think itís because Iím going to be traveling Ė leaving tomorrow morning Ė and I havenít prepared at all. When Iím traveling alone, being relatively unprepared is okay. But since the offspring is going with me, I feel like I canít forget ANYTHING. Like no matter where Iím actually going, I must be as equipped as though I were entering the Siberian Tundra, which is appallingly short on convenience stores, fast food restaurants, and video game shops. Shhh. Donít tell Taylor. She may go into shock.

What if itís cold weather? Must remember her coat, and some sweaters.

What if she gets a cold? Must not forget cold medicine.

What if she falls off of a cliff into a ravine that she canít climb out of, and is menaced by territorial wildlife? Iíd better pack the rappelling gear, and some Beastie-Be-Gone.

What if she gets bored? Better brush up on my Advanced Clichť for Parents.

ďRepeat after me: ĎWhen I was a kid, we read when we were bored.í
Good!
Now: ĎDonít make me stop this car.í
Excellent! If youíve mastered this abstract threat of vague consequences, youíre almost a pro!Ē

After Iíve dealt with the traveling bit, Iíll be within sight of Ontario for a week. Last time this happened, you may recall, I annoyed amused my family by pointing out all of the Canadian things I saw: ďLook, a Canadian stoplight! Look, a Canadian skate kid! LOOK! A Canadian dog pissing on a Canadian lamp post!Ē

The only way to get me to cease and desist is to acknowledge how screamingly irritating thoroughly entertaining I am being. Sort of like when my older brother used to pull furniture over onto himself and stay that way until someone remarked on his dumbassity. I think the record was an hour and fifteen minutes, with various family members stepping over him in the hallway where he was lying motionless with an armchair pinning him to the carpet. I believe the only reason it ended was because someone stubbed his or her toe on the chair. (What is it about stubbing your toe that makes you want to scream at anyone nearby?)

So, I guess itís genetic. My family is nothing if not tenacious in overt idiocy.

At any rate, Iím off to the traverse the Land of Many Lakes via Rock City.

Wish me luck.

2:47 p.m. - 2004-05-28

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