Feet First

Monday, July 12th, 2010

LOCATION:  Vancouver, BC

WEATHER:  Mostly gloomy and gusty with a few sunny moments.

Dad turns on the radio - Mike turns on the TV.  Dad:  "Are you trying to tell me something?"  Mike shrugs.  Radio gets louder.  TV gets louder.  Radio gets louder still.  TV gets even louder than that.  Radio goes up.  TV goes up.  Steph, sobbing:  "STOPPPPP ITTTTTTTTTT."

GOOD MORNING.

Being far too windy today for a trip to Grouse Mountain, it turned into a not very eventful day here at Burnaby Cariboo RV Park, but I'll work with what I got.  Mike's day got off to a pleasant start when he discovered that his T-shirt was made in his home country of Bangladesh.  "Ohhh, home country."  Touching moment.

Dad and Mike went for a drive to check out Dad's ol' stomping grounds from when he lived here in his late teens/early 20s, but arrived to find the whole area under construction and could only creep two pictures of the old fort.

Later on Mike and "Momael" (Mike's homemade fusion of 'Michael' and 'Mom') played a game of Scrabble while I tried unsuccessfully to catch some Zs and after a delectable din of baked potatoes and sausages prepared by le Paw, Mike made Mom's dreams come true and finally let her comb his hair.  Dad:  "Aww, ever pretty."  Hahaha.

When Mike decided to convert his bed from table to sleeping quarters for an after-dinner snooze, he thought it might be fun to subject us all to his overwhelming foot odour.  Since his bed is "so inadequate" and doesn't allow him to fully stretch out (Mom:  "Well, this is camping!"  Mike:  "This is HORSESHIT"), he took to hanging his feet over the edge of the bed directly above my face, which caused me to cry out in terror and retreat to the other end of the couch while Mom took one for the team, as is depicted above.  Moments like this only emphasize how necessary at least one outing per day is.  CABIN FEEVAH.

Again, we attempted to go pooling around 9:30 p.m., thinking on a Monday night we might have some luck, but little did we know it was practice time for the German relay swim team.  Oh, no, it's fine.  You and your five children (WHO ARE SUPPOSED TO BE GONE BY NINE O'CLOCK) can swim furiously back and forth across the pool, trapping Mom in the deep end and allowing no one else to actually swim.  This pool is here for you and your personal needs.  Sorry to interrupt.  I don't know how you say "RUDE" in German, but RUDE.

Tomorrow it's still undecided as to whether we'll head to the island for a couple of days or hang back for one more and head there on Wednesday.  Regardless, here's hoping I have something more exciting to fill your story time with tomorrow.

Letting the good times roll,