The rest of the story
10:39 a.m.
Wednesday, July 20 � We slept in, I finished the book I was reading, checked email, Hubby and his brother-in-law played tennis, we went to the beach, totally vegged, and then took our hosts out to dinner at a local restuarant where I had pickerel which was quite fine.
Thursday, July 21 � I had a chance to read diaries that morning, and was extremely put out by one of my regular reads who had given the new Harry P0tter book a rather poor review (I was just skimming because I didn�t want to spoil anything when I haven�t read it yet) when I chanced to see that she had actually written for all to see who dies in this particular sequel. I was livid! I�m still upset, and I would like to put out a plea, a reminder, to all you diarists out there: DO NOT GIVE AWAY THE IMPORTANT PLOT ELEMENTS OF A BOOK THAT HAS NOT YET BEEN MADE INTO A MOVIE! ESPECIALLY NOT THIS ONE! Okay, I�ve got that off my chest. Shame on you, Erin.
We left Wasaga Beach and proceeded westward along the shores of Georgian Bay, an absolutely gorgeous drive, the Blue Mountains of Collingwood to our left, the blue water and sandy beaches to our right, the sun shining and the sky perfectly clear. We crossed the Bruce Peninsula at Hepworth (where my grandfather had a watchmaking store when he first arrived in Canada from the old country) and made our way to Sauble Beach, another beautiful spot. The beach itself was packed. We set up our chairs, mats, and umbrella and enjoyed the ambience. However, at this point, my daughter and I were getting tired of being on vacation, and there were a few sullen moments when she expressed her displeasure at Hubby�s and my bickering. So we promised to be nice, and things went better from there.
That night we checked into a motel in Kincardine, down the coast of Lake Huron a ways, near the now defunct Bruce nuclear plant, and stayed at the Southsider Motel where the proprietor rented us a �suite� consisting of a kitchenette, separate bedroom with double bed, a double bed in the �living room�, and a single cot at no extra charge. It was quite comfortable.
Friday, July 22 � We breakfasted in a cute little caf� called �Books & Beans�, then drove south to Ipperwash Beach where we checked into a tiny motel, getting two adjoining rooms for a very reasonable price. The beach there was fabulous, the water bathwarm. Buddy Boy and I played in the waves for a while before his sister and I buried him in the sand, sculpting a mermaid tail and very feminine upper body over his torso. I wish we�d taken pictures. We dined in the town of Grand Bend, a real beach town, full of scantily clad and incredibly good-looking young people, shops selling bathing suits and summer clothing, beach wares and pseudo-drug paraphernalia. The restaurant we chose had a patio where we could watch the roadsters loop around the beach, and as the sun got lower the wind off the lake got cooler. Afterwards we walked by the water and watched the sun set in a huge ball of orange fire.
Saturday, July 23 � We got an early start that morning, driving first to Kettle P0int, an Indian reserve with interesting geological accretions which I had last visited the summer I got married. This article explains the phenomenon in scientific terms, but briefly, an outcropping of shale is crumbling to reveal round, black �kettles� ranging in size from 10-pin bowling balls to a metre high. These formations are of a much harder material, so the shale weathers around them. I found it fascinating when I saw it 23 years ago, and really wanted the kids to see it. They thought it was cool, which was enough for me. We then continued south and then west, crossed into the U.S. at Sarnia-P0rt Hur0n, and took I-96 to Detroit, where we ended up on an overly-long detour through the city (for the record, let me state unequivocally that I hate Detroit, always have, and have no reason to stop) before we could get back on the highway, switch to the M-14 and arrive in Ann Arb0r for the reunion that didn�t quite go as planned.
We arrived at the house of one of Hubby�s former classmates (he stayed after graduation) and met up with him, his wife, their two dogs, and two cats, and our other friend who as in town from L.A. for a conference which had ended the day before. It was incredible seeing these people. Except for the usual signs of aging, they have not changed at all. Our host and his wife cracked open a bottle of champagne and we toasted our reacquaintance and good health with mimosas before heading out in search of a restaurant. The art fair was on in downtown A2, so we avoided the city centre, which was a drag because we had to try three eatieries before we found one that was open, a Chinese restaurant which served incredible food. I had the Hunan-style fish and couldn�t finish it.
Back at our host�s the guys played music for each other, reminisced about former colleagues and professors, drank more champagne and decided we have to plan a real reunion for next year, which will be 25 years since they all started their master�s degrees together, including getting a mailing list from the alumni office, renting a restaurant or cajoling one of the old professors who has a nice house and yard to donate space, and doing more in advance to ensure a successful event. We drove our L.A. friend back to his hotel, then got on I-94 which took us all the way to the Detr0it-Winds0r border crossing (with only a minimal slowdown due to construction), and we arrived at my in-laws�, very tired, at around 11 p.m.
Click back two entries for the the trip home.
Yesterday I drove Buddy Boy to his girlfriend�s house, shopped for supplies, picked up my pre-paid copy of Harry P0tter, did some corrections, caught up on diaries and internet chatting, washed and hung out laundry and basically got out of vacation mode and back into the rut that is day-to-day living. It is so good to be home.
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