Friday morning we were on the road early, headed toward Edmonton to spend Easter with my parents, and my husband's extended family.
Thirty minutes from home we stopped at the request of the 9 year old who needed a pit stop. It was fortuitous that he'd ignored my repeated requests to use the washroom before we left the house, because we discovered a serious issue with our tires BEFORE heading through the mountains. We backtracked to the house, and husband (who is such a handy, masculine type of fellow with a vast knowledge of all things technical) decided there was a problem with our new summer tires (I can't be anymore specific than this, as I am neither handy nor masculine and all my technical knowledge is based on Star Trek) that were installed the previous day.
We headed out thirty minutes later having downgraded from our SUV to husband's teeny, tiny, commuter hatchback. We left behind half our luggage, most of the snacks we'd packed and the dvd player. It was a very cozy ten hours before the five of us (the Wunder Dog was wedged in the back with our luggage) finally arrived at my parents' house.
Is it always a mad house at Mountain Equipment Co-op on a Saturday? Or did we just fluke into the one day a year when all the members went shoe shopping? That was our first stop. At noon we trucked over to West Edmonton Mall to hang out with Mr Wrath's relatives. Once upon a time, I liked malls. I don't know if it's my age, or my later-in-life conversion to rural-dweller, but now I find malls draining. Plus my eldest has no concept that unlike in our small local mall (10 stores), he can't just wander off on his own. On Sunday we stayed close to my parents house -- on account of my sore feet, and pissy mood -- then went to Rio. This is the fourth or fifth time my small-town kids have been to a movie theatre, and they enjoyed it. I did, too. It confirmed my theory that children's movies are good so long as they are not made by the overly sentimental, preachy, moralists at Pixar Films.
There are five seasons in Canada: spring, summer, autumn, winter, and dust. We are in the throes of the dust season. Everything and everyone is coated in a fine layer of grit. So yesterday's drive home (even more cozy than the trip to Edmonton because of our Mountain Equipment Co-op purchases) was painful and long.
But we are home now. The dog hates us for the indignity of riding in a hatchback. There's a mountain of laundry to wash. The SUV tires are still funky -- hence I'm housebound.
And it's my birthday. And Mr Wrath's birthday. And our wedding anniversary.
The plans for today are tv viewing (right now we're watching Lois & Clark), and cupcakes (baked by my mom and sent home with us), and Moroccan chicken (my parents gave us a Le Creuset Tagine for our joint birthday) and I'm not doing much else.