Holidays

When some people marry, the family silverware is passed down. Others are fortunate to inherit the family jewels (diamonds and gold, people!). Still, others may be blessed with a grandmother’s quilt, or dining room table, or family cast iron skillet (“Now, don’t you go an wash that there….thar’s bacon fat on that there pan from my granpappy’s momma. Yes sir, that there pan’s been seasoned REAL nice.”)

I inherited a curse. No, really. Ask anyone. People refer to it as “The Mahoney Luck”. Others in the family call us the Griswolds. This curse goes wherever we go, and seems to gather great strength whenever we get farther than 30 kilometres from our home.

I’m sure it’s from my husband’s side of the family. I do recall going on many an excursion as a child and not managing to pitch our tent next to a red ant hill or a wasp infestation. I recall one summer driving to Saskatoon and back and not once being stranded on the side of the highway. I think my reasoning stands.

People get a terrified look in their eyes when I tell them we’re going away.

“Have you mapped out the closest hospitals?”

“Did you update your life insurance including accidental death and dismemberment?”

“For the love of God, can’t you guys just stick a tent in the backyard and stop the madness!! You know nothing good can come from this!!”

Last night, Heath and I discussed our summer plans. We decided against the whole Europe thing (who wants to see a bunch of old castles and artwork?), said 'it doesn't really appeal to me' to all those flashy overpriced venues such as Disneyland and 6 Flag Magic Mountain, and vetoed the lameness of hopping on some silly monstrosity of a cruise ship that serves food 24 hours a day and has daycare for your children. Who needs that nonsense?

Which of course means we planned a road trip. We love those. Four kids in a minivan, driving far far away from our mechanic who's children we have put through college. Far far far away from the safety of our little home, where the electricity works and water flows. Far far far far away from sunshine, clear skies and a warm breeze.

This year will be better though, because we get to add a 70 pound dog into the mix. Let the Griswold Annual Road Trip begin.

I'd promise to post pictures, but the camera seems to break/fall in deep water/get run over by a wayward seniors bus/ eaten by a bear on our road trips. Perhaps Eilidh could draw a picture or two. I hear art therapy is a wonderful thing.

The Luck O' the Irish

I won tickets to James Taylor this morning. I have no idea who he is. I'm a thinkin' he's a country singer, y'all.


What struck me as funny was that the radio djs thought I sounded like a good beer drinking buddy. Because of my name. You should have heard them howl when I told them I was born on St. Patrick's Day.


Now, off to dream about winning the grand prize. A three day getaway to Campbell River Fishing Lodge. Three nights in a luxury cabin on the beach, spa treatments, whale watching....something about fishing, but I'm ignoring that part....fine dining and getting flown into the resort.


Come on...the luck o' the Irish and all....that trip is mine.