The Wet Coast

Wasn't at all this week, pleasantly enough. Last Wednesday the family packed up for a trip to Vancouver, British Columbia on a multitasker mission: the plan was to land, spend the night at the Fairmont Vancouver Airport, rent a car the next morning for the 4.5 hour drive east to the Okanagan Valley, head back Friday night, stay downtown at the Wedgewood Hotel, attend a lavish wedding Saturday, dinner with friends that night, pay a full-day birthday visit to my best friend from university, spend the night back at the airport hotel, fly home today.

Amazingly, all was accomplished with little folderol. The weather was stunningly gorgeous, leading us both (well, okay, primarily me) to prick up our ears in the direction of "For Sale" signs dotted around the city. We surprised my grandmother with the visit to Penticton, and I was able to log about 2 hours at her old house, blitzing and boxing family paraphenalia that I knew needed to be dealt with; it was the first time I had been to that house since my grandfather's death 18 months ago, and it wasn't as difficult as I had thought. If anything, it was just a time for lovely memories of the time we did spend together, and I know my grandmother felt comforted that things were being given a good home, so to speak. My parents had been out this summer and did a massive share of this, so I was sort of the rear guard. It's nice to have congratulatory wedding cards, circa 1939, and my grandfather's yearbooks from "South Vancouver High School"---which is officially John Oliver H.S...and there is a semi-amusing story behind the dual name...ask me another time.

The wedding was enjoyable, particularly since we were just guests, with no added responsibilities; had a great time at dinner, and had the great pleasure of seeing the newly purchased house of my friend Camille and her husband. We looked at pictures from the madcap years at Trinity and both expressed astonishment that we were actually, you know, adults. With like houses and husbands and that sort of thing. Maybe at heart we all still feel like we're nineteen. Anyway, good trip all around, and with the possible exception of Bean not sleeping all that well, everyone had a fun time. We didn't get a crib for her at most of the hotels, because the bed was large enough to just bung her in the middle, but I had forgotten a) that babies are heat-seeking missiles and b) how much room a 2.5 foot child can quickly absorb. I found myself clinging to the edge of the bed on multiple occasions while she and her dad snored blissfully in unison. It's a good thing I love them.

The only catastrophe was my slapstick coffee spillage on the first morning...right on top of my husband's briefcase, laptop, and lap. No major burns to anything but the keyboard, and even that mostly recovered. Well, my pride, perhaps.

Although I doubt the next time you read this the Hoffmans will have relocated to Vancouver, know that it is constantly lurking in the back of my mind, so if anyone has any good, dissuading facts on average rainfall and high taxes, make sure to let me know.