What do you do with three weeks off?
That’s my conundrum today as I begin the longest summer
vacation I have ever taken.
In this period of global pandemic, there’s no place to go.
When I made the decision to take these
three weeks off, our plan was to travel as our new group of five – Jackie and
her daughter Mackenzie, myself and my two daughters Alannah and Ashley-Rae. Her
family in St. John’s Newfoundland had reached out to invite us all and we all
agreed to jump at the chance of such an adventure.
An adventure for sure for me and the Brill Girls, but for Jac
and Mackenzie it would be a great visit back home.
Jac was telling us all of the great sites we would see –
like icebergs floating down past the oceans edge of town – and the beautiful
rolling landscapes – and all the great people she loves that we would meet.
“We’ll drive” explained Jac, “It’s a long drive but it’s all
so beautiful. And we will ride the ferry overnight to the island province”.
“How long does the ferry take?” asked Alannah.
“About nine hours, and I hate boats”, laughed Jackie. “But we
will be there for St. John’s three weeks of summer”
So I booked my three weeks and two days off from work or the long trip.
And then the pandemic got worse instead of better.
Now we have rules like wearing masks in public places and
social distancing of six feet and social bubbles of no more than ten people and
washing and sanitizing everything you touch.
Some of the provinces in our path out east instituted rules
like if you enter that province you have to self-isolate for ten days before
you can carry on with your trip. How would they be able to enforce that? I don’t
know. Do I want to find out? No – not with the kids with us anyway.
It would have been adventure though - like the old Smokey
and the Bandit movie. Only we would be the illegal cargo instead of Coors beer.
Imagine us driving down the Trans-Canada highway – reaching a
roadblock at the Quebec – Nova Scotia border – a Gleeson-like provincial police
officer complete with polaroid sunglasses standing in the middle of the highway
with a bullhorn for us to pull over, and Jackie swerving to the right to
heading for a flatbed trailer parked on the shoulder with its rear end down on the ground – like the perfect
jump ramp – and Jackie shouting to us all to “hang on – this is going to be fun”.
“Yeee-Hawww” I would shout as the SUV flew through the air.
After the airborne Dodge Durango landed with a couple of
bounces, she would have to lose the RCMP chasing us on horseback she would ride
down into the valley of the median and up the other side of the highway that
people heading west would use – swerving between the oncoming traffic – and the
moose and elk that just naturally wander out on the highway.
That would be an adventure.
“Now that’s just stupid” Jackie will say when she reads this.
“I don’t know”, I’ll reply “you’re a pretty crazy driver”
“But now we will never know” I would say before she had a
chance to get mad.
Besides, the police would have caught us at the ferry
anyway.
So now I’m trying hard to think of what to do for fun on
this three weeks of vacation.
“Work on your house Fred” everyone will say.
Everyone will say that.
And everyone would be right. I have a list so long of all
the things I need to do – both inside and out. De-tangling it from the past to
open it up to the future. Rooms to clear out and carpets to clean or pull out
and replace with other flooring. The garage is a horrible collection of things
sat down quickly to get them out of the car or another room in the house. A
couple of trees to cut down or pull out on the north side of the house. An old
car to clean up and sell. A spare room downstairs to clean out to use as my
work-from-home office in three weeks’ time. Painting and multiple trips to the
dump.
The list is daunting. Overwhelming in fact.
Well, the problem of what to do is solved.
I wonder if three weeks is enough?
