When you live on an island, stuff happens
For example, the crossing from Port Townsend to Whidbey Island is down to one boat: the Salish is out with rudder trouble for the foreseeable future.
K. and B. were spared dealing with this nuisance, as their friends' wedding was the weekend of the 28th. They were married at this lovely place - we drove past it last weekend on our way north - and a good enough time was had that K. woke the next morning groaning softly and holding her head! *chuckling* B. at one point relieved K. of the bottle of wine she'd been dancing with, and while he was taking it away another friend joined her, danced for a bit and left her with another bottle; B. returned and did a triple take. Happily after a cup of tea, some biscuits and a shower she rallied enough to walk to the diner for breakfast, and we saw them off with hugs and promises to come to their home and marvel at Toddler H.'s ability to destroy a room in under 15 seconds very soon.
Last weekend, P. and I went to Port Townsend, off to visit fufaraw and her good spouse, only to reach the tollbooth and see people in front of us turning around. The harried woman minding it told us our crossing had been cancelled due to fog: as I had made a reservation, we would be able to board the next sailing, but she wouldn't be able to tell us if there would be one for half an hour. (Standby spots were cancelled for the rest of the day; Vashon Island also cancelled a crossing.) We drove back the way we'd come and managed to board a ferry in Kingston, but the ride over was like something out of a Stephen King novel; a wall of white, with an eerie quiet broken only by horns sounding. I could hear the water, but couldn't see it.
Eventually we reached fu's place, and there was a great deal of promiscuous hugging all 'round. Her spouse brought out plates of crudites, olives and rolls of prosciutto and provolone, with sharp mustard to dip them into, and other lovely cool things to hold us while we admired the fantastic job he has done with the bookcases in the living room. Fu gave me a bag of hair clips she no longer needed - one of which I'm wearing in my hair right now - and after a grand time chatting and ooohing at the garden and stretching our legs with a stroll around the pond, we went to a Greek restaurant near the WWU campus (K.'s brother is studying there, a connection which amused all of us), where I was reminded of how much I love hummus.
Yesterday was the six-month Expedition to the Dentist. Family tsuris erupted as we were queuing for the ferry, and I found trying to support P. a better use of my energy than fretting about the four fillings about to be replaced. Thanks (?), Family Member of P.!
Everyone has learned since the Unpleasantness of the Crown: when I tapped out, Dr. I. knew I was not kidding around and had more anesthetic, warmed blankets and an emesis basin on stand-by. In the queue to sail back the heat, smoke-filled air and my usual reaction to anesthetic had me on the verge of being very sick indeed, but we were waved to the centre deck of the ferry, where the TARDIS was in full shade and a stiff breeze blew through. When we made it home P. made a nest for me in the living room with the pillows from the bed and a small quilt, gave me lemon soda, my anti-nausea medication and some cinnamon applesauce, and put on some quiet music.
K. and B. were spared dealing with this nuisance, as their friends' wedding was the weekend of the 28th. They were married at this lovely place - we drove past it last weekend on our way north - and a good enough time was had that K. woke the next morning groaning softly and holding her head! *chuckling* B. at one point relieved K. of the bottle of wine she'd been dancing with, and while he was taking it away another friend joined her, danced for a bit and left her with another bottle; B. returned and did a triple take. Happily after a cup of tea, some biscuits and a shower she rallied enough to walk to the diner for breakfast, and we saw them off with hugs and promises to come to their home and marvel at Toddler H.'s ability to destroy a room in under 15 seconds very soon.
Last weekend, P. and I went to Port Townsend, off to visit fufaraw and her good spouse, only to reach the tollbooth and see people in front of us turning around. The harried woman minding it told us our crossing had been cancelled due to fog: as I had made a reservation, we would be able to board the next sailing, but she wouldn't be able to tell us if there would be one for half an hour. (Standby spots were cancelled for the rest of the day; Vashon Island also cancelled a crossing.) We drove back the way we'd come and managed to board a ferry in Kingston, but the ride over was like something out of a Stephen King novel; a wall of white, with an eerie quiet broken only by horns sounding. I could hear the water, but couldn't see it.
Eventually we reached fu's place, and there was a great deal of promiscuous hugging all 'round. Her spouse brought out plates of crudites, olives and rolls of prosciutto and provolone, with sharp mustard to dip them into, and other lovely cool things to hold us while we admired the fantastic job he has done with the bookcases in the living room. Fu gave me a bag of hair clips she no longer needed - one of which I'm wearing in my hair right now - and after a grand time chatting and ooohing at the garden and stretching our legs with a stroll around the pond, we went to a Greek restaurant near the WWU campus (K.'s brother is studying there, a connection which amused all of us), where I was reminded of how much I love hummus.
Yesterday was the six-month Expedition to the Dentist. Family tsuris erupted as we were queuing for the ferry, and I found trying to support P. a better use of my energy than fretting about the four fillings about to be replaced. Thanks (?), Family Member of P.!
Everyone has learned since the Unpleasantness of the Crown: when I tapped out, Dr. I. knew I was not kidding around and had more anesthetic, warmed blankets and an emesis basin on stand-by. In the queue to sail back the heat, smoke-filled air and my usual reaction to anesthetic had me on the verge of being very sick indeed, but we were waved to the centre deck of the ferry, where the TARDIS was in full shade and a stiff breeze blew through. When we made it home P. made a nest for me in the living room with the pillows from the bed and a small quilt, gave me lemon soda, my anti-nausea medication and some cinnamon applesauce, and put on some quiet music.