I am so tired that I have lost my blink reflex. But damn, it was a good weekend.
I still cannot believe that my sister, brother, and brother-in-law drove 12 hours from Manitoba to surprise me at our party. And then turned around and drove back home again 36 hours later. They are poster children for going above and beyond the call of duty.
Hopefully I made it up to them in some small way by taking them to IKEA yesterday, IKEA being the Swedish word for "store in which every Canadian ever born spends Sunday afternoon shuffling through in search of semi-disposable furniture".
It was a really fun party. I wish you could have been there too. We still have so much wine that we haven't even drank yet. Of course, one of the drawbacks to this turning 50 business is that you no longer have the capacity to drink wine till 3:00am, not gracefully anyway and not without suffering for days afterward. But I shall definitely throw another big party like this when I turn 100 and we celebrate our 70th anniversary. We may need to smuggle our wine in sippy cups and we will doubtless be congratulating ourselves for staying up till 9:00pm, but other than that, I expect an exact repeat of this Saturday.
And aside from the insane over-the-top surprise visits from family, the Spousal Unit also arranged for a little surprise for me. He found a picture of me, age 17, quaffing a massive stein of beer at Oktoberfest during my European travels. He arranged with our neighbour, who works for a brewery, to have a batch of beer bottles labelled with my picture and stuck the batch in the fridge.
Can you imagine the shock of opening the fridge door to be confronted by a dozen pictures of your teenage self grinning her fool head off at a 3 litre glass of beer? It was surpassed only by the shock of opening the door to admit more party guests and instead finding your sibs grinning at you while your brother-in-law snaps a picture of your jaw dropping open to your knees.
I will post pictures once I find the camera.
This morning I had to drop the urban assault vehicle at the dealership to have it serviced. I knew that I would not work up the energy to have a real workout today, so decided to walk home through Fish Creek Park - an hour trip, I figured.
The last time I tried this, I learned that floods will change the course of creeks, destroy pathways, and create blind alleys down which you will be attacked by red-winged black birds. Best stick to the asphault path this time, I thought. Except that you can't get there from here. By the time I noticed that I was in completely unfamiliar territory and the sun was in the wrong place in the sky, I had long overshot my destination.
And I really had to pee.
So I headed back to where I had seen a shale path that looked to be heading in the right direction but had avoided because I had seen "path closed" barricades in the distance, and tried my luck.
As luck would have it, I spotted a runner heading down the pathway in the direction I thought I should be heading so I followed him. Naturally he was long gone by the time I reached the place where the pathway was washed out. There was a skinny little board which spanned the rather too wide and too deep cliff where the creek had forged itself a new path, which the tall, skinny runner had obviously bounded gleefully over, but I am not a tall, skinny runner and besides, I really needed to pee.
So I backtracked. Again. And stumbled, more by blind luck than by any real sense of survival, upon the path that eventually led me out of the park. Climbing that final hill, straight upward for 150 steps, out of the park was considerably less onerous than I would have expected with a full-to-bursting bladder. I think possibly your bladder sensors are over-ruled when your ass muscle sensors are firing.