Another blog about nothing, this one on which I survive Christmas, refuse to commit to becoming a normal adult member of the community I live in, and decide to escape for one last vacation before the new school term starts and I will have to (very reluctantly) return to work.
I survive Christmas. My three sons, their three girlfriends, and three of their assorted parents converge in Ottawa. All goes as planned, better even; my sons arrive Christmas Eve and dive unasked into the kitchen Alex making fresh guacamole and Fred preparing sushi, and as the weekend rolls forward we eat, and eat again, talk, drink, open presents, we walk to downtown Ottawa to see the light show one evening and up into the Gatineau hills the next day, we all play inclusive card games and split off into different groups to play board games, a few of us go boxing day shopping, others test out the local diner, and then we are back eating altogether again and playing just a few more rounds of cards before, all too soon, dispersing off in different directions again each to visit other friends and family. Geoff goes to see his brother, and Fred to Tremblant, so Alex and Emilie and I head to Deep, then they go to stay with her family and I return to revisit with Ben and Steph... and a mere eyeblink later another whole Christmas has passed and I am still intact.
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| Happiness is three kids and their partners all gathered together for Christmas dinner. |
My first chore of the new year is to find somewhere to live in Arnprior for the upcoming semester. Nowhere, of course, will be as lovely as the little house right on the river that I rented last year. I can't, I tell myself repeatedly, regret letting my lease run out and putting all my stuff into storage. I can't. If I want to travel 6 months a year while living on a part-time teacher's salary then I can't afford to be paying rent when I'm off galavanting. I can't. But nowhere I see even comes close to what I had last year and in the end I don't rent anywhere, I elect instead to stay in the local B&B, a large old building that was once a nunnery. My room is huge, has a bed and table and easy chairs, an ensuite complete with lion footed cast iron tub. The communal kitchen is enormous, there are 3 shared living rooms, the owner is welcoming and other long term guests include a woman of my age who is 'between' and a med student doing an internship. The price is right. It's a stone's throw from the school. What's not to like? I intend, of course, to stay there for only one month but can already see myself staying for five.
And then, though it would make sense to settle in, sort out my clothes and think about what I'm going to teach, find and test out the local ski and snowshoe trails, try, at least a bit, to become a part of the community... I don't. Within three days I'm off again, sitting in the airport waiting room, clutching my boarding pass, looking up directions to the first hostel I've booked into, trying to decipher the cheapest way to transfer there, and grinning from ear to ear. ('Away, away, away!', an inner voice is chanting with glee. 'Free, free, free!' 'But why do you have to go away?' another one questions (using Rick's voice ofc), 'What's wrong with here?' And I confess I don't know. Don't have a good answer at all. But it doesn't matter because I am, again, outward bound, and couldn't be happier to be so.)
Roll on 2016, one more wee vacation and I'll be ready to face you.
