T Minus three days... ("T" for torture, that is.)

Yes, my friends and anonymous readers, it's true. I'm getting ready for vacation.

No, no... of course I'll keep posting. After all, when one is mired deep in southern Nova Scotia for two weeks, one must find some way of keeping oneself occupied. Which may also have the additional benefit of keeping one away from squabbling and bickering family members.

Yes, it's time for my Trek To Yarmouth, NS -- the summer version.

About five years ago, my parents packed up (or threw out) everything they owned and hightailed it for the great Atlantic Provinces. It's a grand place for visiting... though it's generally a little cool in the summer for my tastes. And sometimes excessively foggy. But instead of hopping a plane (courtesy of my dear mother), I decided to save her some cash and instead drive down with a friend.

Now, the last time this friend and I were in a car, we took a wrong turn. In California. On our way to catch a plane. And since we were running late, she decided that rather than putting the pedal to the metal and hauling ass to San Francisco, she would slow down. Because after all, it's better to be safe.
(Note: This is an excellent metaphor for the great chasm of difference between us.)

This time, however, there is no deadline. There is no rush. She's even been trying to plot a course that would enable us to enjoy the very fine views of Driving Out East. My mother, fearing for my safety and her own subsequent sanity, suggested that sightseeing might not be a great idea -- I should get to NS as soon as possible.

Of course, I now suspect my friend is already feeling huffy about my awful self ruining her nice plans. I feel confident that this will truly be a point of bonding, and distract us from getting irritated.

For at least an hour, anyway.