Now that the semester is over, Tony and I decided it was time for a small weekend trip somewhere. Orginially we were going to venture to NY and pay our respects to ground zero. For whatever reason those plans fell through and our next idea involved Niagra Falls. Those plans fell through as well. Third time is a charm and we decided to keep it short and sweet. We agreed on an over night trip to Canada. As beautiful as Canada is, this time of year it's damn cold up there. I had forgotten about that.
(above: the view from our hotel room)
Our hotel was right around the corner from the main attraction streets. It was a little old and rugged looking. But it served it's purpose and gave us a place to rest our tired heads. Our only real mission while in Sherbrooke was to find me a specific kind of yarn (that is only sold in Canada) so that I could knit some pichous. Pichous are a kind of slipper that I found out about when I was a little girl. Every summer when we would go up to Canada and visit family, my Aunt Alma also took us into her big walk-in closet full of pichous and socks that she knitted herself and we were all allowed to pick out a pair or two. Tony got his very first pair of pichous last year when my Pepere passed away. He loves them and wears them all the time. So he was all excited to find me this yarn so that I could make him another pair. Missions accomplished!
On our way back home, we got stopped going through customs. Most likely because my passport holds a picture of me with make up on and blue hair. Lately, I look nothing like my passport picture thanks to the stress and sleep deprivation of nursing school. We were instructed to pull the car over and step inside the building. I'll admit, I was nervous as to why we were being stopped, yet, I couldn't think of anything that we had done wrong. It actually was a very pleasant customs experience. The man asked us a bunch of questions relating to any criminal history, what brought us to Canada, what do we do for a living, etc. We informed him that neither of us had warrants out for us nor did we have a criminal background since I'm in nursing school and would be kicked out for anything like that and Tony has served nine years in the Army with an honorable discharge. We got to talking about Tony's diesel mechanic role in the Army and the fact that he is now in school working towards an automotive degree. The customs gentleman referred to it as gasoline mechanics. That's when my genius brain prompted me to pipe up with, "Diesel IS gasoline. There's no difference." Well, the man decided he would be nice and correct me, stating that, "Diesel is NOT gasoline." I couldn't wrap my head around that statement. I reminded him that diesel is, in fact, purchased at gas stations.. not the mall or grocery store. As we casually (yet politely) argued back and forth, he finally leaned over the counter towards me and said, "You know what? I think you should stay blonde." And he began to laugh. Yes, the man at the customs counter had just dissed me. I found it funny. Here is this man who plans such a professional and important role in border safety and he's cracking jokes with me. We filled out a claims form and were sent on our way. We were lucky enough to not have to wait around while our car was ripped apart and searched.
We made our way down to Tony's parents' neck of the woods. I have always enjoyed the ride so much more during the day rather than at night. It's so beautiful.
We finally arrived at Tony's parents' place (Kat and Clyde) and I was dreading having to go inside. As you know from previous posts, Tony's brother and sister-in-law live with Kat and Clyde. And we all know how well I get along with them. It's like oil and water. Being the bigger person that I am, I went inside rather than hiding out in the car. Tony, Clyde, and myself sat down at the kitchen table. However, when I first walked in the door, I noticed Sarah and Everett both sitting in the living room with their faces glued to their computers while their child was in the kitchen, in her highchair, eating... totally out of their eye sight. So not safe, but I kept my mouth shut.. because according to Sarah I know nothing about kids or how to take care of them. Knowing how mentally unstable Sarah is, I decided to keep my distance even from her kid. At the funeral, back in October, she was furious when she saw Tony holding her daughter.. so why do I want to get myself involved in that kind of crap?? Well.. it turned into a lose-lose situation. The little girl curiously googoo'd and gaga'd while looking at Tony and I. When Everett asked his daughter what was wrong, Sarah piped up, "I know what's wrong. There's F***ING people in the kitchen that won't F***ING acknowledege her!!" She continued storming around the apartment, muttering and mumbling about not getting any respect. As far as I was concerned, in no way did I disrespect her. If she doesn't acknowledge her own kid why should I be obligated to do so? Eventually she began yelling at Everett about how she doesn't want her kid around Tony and I. Yet, 30 minutes prior to that statement she was complaining that we weren't paying attention to her kid, but now she doesn't want us around her kid...?? We left for a little bit to visit with Tony's grandparents until Kat got out of work. We went back to their apartment to invite Kat and Clyde out for pizza and back to our hotel room for a movie along with some peace and quiet away from all the bickering that Sarah and Everett do. Tony left me in the car, so we could keep it running with the heat on, while he ran up stairs to round up his mom and dad. When he got up there, Sarah had done a 180. She said, "Zoe, show Uncle Tony how you walk. Go see Uncle Tony." Wait... what?!?!?! Are you all just as confused by this?? In all honesty, the girl seriously needs to be on medication. Next semester we will be covering psych.. if I have to write a paper it is soooo going to be on her. She is classic bipolar. And yet I'm still the 'bad person' for kicking the two of them out of my apartment. Can you blame me??
