HOME
RYAN'S PAGE
THE BEAGLE CUP
THE DOG
BULLY-TIN
FHS 20TH REUNION
CONTACT US

-----

Our trip to the turks....the start of a little blog on our visit with the dog.

CLIP OF SOME WILD DRIVING

SMELLING SALTS
TIDBITS, LIFE LESSONS AND REASONS TO SMILE.

  COLD WIND    HOT TEA     WAITING FOR THE BUS     THE HOSTAGE    THE TASTE BUD PARADOX

COLD WIND

I was out tonight with Melissa and our little girl Ryan, cruising around town doing some errands as a family.  With both Melissa and I working it makes it hard to generate any real family time with the exception of weekends, so we make the most of our evenings together and often times do little things like this. 

It’s still winter here and although spring is just around the corner, this was a cold and very windy night.  As we pulled to a stop in front of the bank Melissa started to gather her deposit up and exit the truck, as she opened the door to get out, the wind howled and sprung it open hard against it’s hinges “Wow” Melissa said, “is it ever windy” as she stepped out of the truck she added “and cold too, brrrrr”.  She closed the door against the force of the stiff breeze and opened the back door of the truck to retrieve Ryan.  Ryan may only be 2 and ½ but she likes to push the buttons on the bank machine so she was not going to let mommy go in without her.  Once again the door flung open wildly as Melissa reached in to grab Ryan, and the cold wind filled the inside of the truck making me inadvertently shake as an icy shiver ran up my spine.

I watched the two of them head inside and I could follow their ATM progress through the window pane, it’s neat to see little people learning all about their world and the cool things in it, amazing really when you think about how much they absorb, I could see her little hands manipulating the buttons at her moms direction.  As they finished up and started back for the truck I could see the two of them fighting hard against the wind to get back into some place warm, I shoved the door open and they both jumped in. “Brrrr, brrrrr, brrrrrr” said Melissa

As we started to pull away from the curb Ryan blurted out “I don’t want to go home”, which is standard fare for her, she loves being out and about, “where do you want to go” I asked, “Horton’s” she replied with a little grimace.  Horton’s is Tim Horton’s and I’m not so sure that she loves anything there in particular, but it has become a tradition for us to go through the drive thru and grab a few timbits, mom and dad get a tea and a coffee, and tonight was a perfect night for that, anything to make us feel a little warmer and forget about the harshness of the cold that surrounded us. 

As we made our way out on to riverfront drive you could really get a sense for the bite that Mother Nature was sending our way, the wind whipped down the valley, blowing the deep snow from the ground in walls of white.  As we passed under the bridge I noticed a young mother and a little girl fighting hard against the wind, neither appeared to be dressed as they should have been, and I could tell at first glance that perhaps they had found themselves in the wrong place at the wrong time.

Unfortunately, by the time I had figured that they may have needed some real help we were already passed them.  “Gosh” I said “can you imagine how cold that little girl must be, we should really turn around and see if they need a drive somewhere”.  By this time though we had moved even farther down the one way street and to get back to them we would have to back track around a route that would take us 5 minutes out of our way.  I quickly checked in my mirror to make a quick turn but there was a truck coming up in the lane I needed, I veered back in the direction of our home. “She may think we are a little creepy if we stop and ask her if she needs a drive” Melissa said “yeah” I thought for a minute “but if that was you and Ryan I would want someone to help you guys” Melissa thought about that for a second and then said “we should probably go back”.

I turned down the next side street and we made our way back towards them, we would have to pass them on the opposite side of the median first as we made our way back to their side of the road, as we did I looked again and could tell that for sure they were having some real problems, I could feel my foot pressing harder on the gas even though my brain was not telling it to do so.  We finally got to a point where the median dividing the east and west bound lanes ended and we could loop back in the right direction and start heading toward them.  As we got closer to where I thought they would be I could not see them, had they crossed the median and hopped over the wall of snow to get out of the wind I thought?  Just then I could see the top of the mothers head peaking over the sidewalk snow bank, she had been bent down, comforting her daughter, shielding her as the wind whipped viciously across the ground and relentlessly over their bare heads, as we pulled up along side Melissa rolled down her window, the instant the window dropped below the door frame I could here the little girls cries.  “Would you two like a drive” Melissa asked “would you mind” the young mother offered back fighting off tears of her own, she was obviously just as cold as her daughter and equally frightened, more for her little girls well being than anything else I guessed.

In my mind I’m thinking what could possibly have led to these two getting themselves in this predicament, as they started to get in the truck I realized the little girls cries were not just whimpers of discomfort, but the I cant catch my breath, hyper ventilation of deep soul like sobs.  Instantly I felt my heart sink, the little girl was scared, cold and upset, as her mother placed her in the back seat next to Ryan I turned to see two watery eyes, cheeks stream lined with tears on the reddest rosiest face I have ever seen, she was snowy too, mostly on her feet which were clad in sandals and thin socks, footwear more appropriate for inside than out.  She was cold to the touch and shivering.  I turned the heat in the truck on full and once her mother got inside and all the doors were shut it warmed up quickly.

“I am so embarrassed” the mother would say over and over again, at first I was not sure why but soon I realized that she was all to aware of the seriousness of her situation, with the two of them being outside in these conditions.  She would go on to explain how they ended up where they did, and tell us just how long they had been out in the cold and wind. 

As it turned out they had walked from Devon, about 2 kms away, they would have had to cross the city bridge, which in all likely hood would have been the coldest part of their journey by far, as the bridge pedway sits about 40 feet above the frozen river and offers no escape from the wind whipped cold. 

She would go on to explain that their escapade had been brought on by the violence of her sister’s husband.  She and her daughter had been visiting her sister when he arrived home in a rage and started to become violent, both physically and verbally to both her and her sister, she was scared, for her sibling, for herself and most importantly for her daughter. Not knowing the area she was in very well or any of the neighbors that lived nearby, she panicked, acting instinctively, feeling at that instant that her best option would be to leave this violence and to strike it for home, not realizing how cold and windy it had turned in the last hour or so. 

By the time the urgency of her situation had warn off, she would find herself halfway across the bridge in a relentlessly cold biting wind, trying to comfort her little girl who was traumatized by the rage of an abusive man, an upset mother who was trying to protect her and the cold hand of mother nature.

I tried my best to comfort the little girl, I wanted her to know that everything was going to be alright and that soon she was going to be warm, each time I tried to say something I was scared for the words to come out because I could feel them breaking as my lips opened, I too began to feel how scared, cold and awful she felt, and I felt awful for her. 

The realization for me was like diving into a cold pool, instant awareness of how lucky I was to have a warm truck to drive in; a wife who loved me and a little daughter who was safe, for here at that moment sat two people who were void of all those simple things that I so often take for granted.

After a few minutes the little girl’s cries began to slow down and become more controlled, Ryan sat next to her, bewildered at best by what was going on, the little girl’s mother sat beside the two of them apologizing over and over again…for nothing really…she had done the right thing even though the outcome was obviously frightening for them both. 

“Where would you like to go” I asked “We live on Victoria street ” she replied. 

As it happens there is a Tim Horton’s between where we were and their home, I turned to the little girl in the back seat and asked her if she liked Timbits, “Yes” she replied between sobs.  I offered her mom a coffee or tea but she declined, I think she was just thankful to have her daughter out of harms way and to be in a safe warm place. 

As the box of Timbits came through the window I passed them back to Ryan who opened them up and shared with our new friend.  A short time later we arrived at their house, the little girls mother thanked us over and over again, as I got out to help with her daughter she gave me a big hug, she then proceeded around to the other side of the truck and did the same for Melissa.  As I backed out of their driveway I watched them heading up the stairs to their front door, I could feel a gush of emotion filling my insides and my eyes were beginning to well up, why was I so emotional? 

I think it was because in that little girl I could see Ryan and in that young mother I could see Melissa and I couldn’t bear the thought of them ever having to live a life like that. 

In reflection, I think it’s important to remember that sometimes the greatest acts of kindness lose their lives as good intentions, tonight I’m glad ours didn’t.

The Great Taste Bud Paradox

It’s like a hidden trick, a  snicker from above that says “with everything there is a price, how much are you willing to spend?”  When it comes to people of wealth I feel especially sorry for those who are born rich (like Hilton and Ritchie), for they have clearly been put at the huge disadvantage of having way fewer taste buds to start their lives out with than their ‘normal folk’ counterparts.  At least those people who start out poor and then become rich (like Oprah) can reflect back on the time when they had nothing but still maintained a full set of taste buds.

We all have taste buds, they are used to distinguish flavors' and to make food more appealing to us, and they are after all the real reason why we enjoy eating as much as we do.  They are also the basis for our appreciation of it.  What most people don't realize is that 'taste buds' control a lot more than just the flavor of food, they also control the flavor of life.   Honestly, is there anything more rewarding than satisfying a craving?  You know the part where your whole body goes “Ahhhhhhh” whether it be for food or something else that we desire.   What would life be like without cravings and the drive to satisfy them, what if everything tasted the same and we had no discernable way to truly appreciate what it was we were enjoying? 

This is the basis for the Taste Bud Paradox.

It is easiest to explain in this way, our appreciation (AP) for something is a function of our desire to have it (D) divided by our ability to get it (A), D/A= AP.   If we are rich our ability to get what we want, whether it be a car, a house, a painting, a new watch or any other monetary item is very high, conversely, however if we are poor our ability to get this same item is usually  very low. As a result, given the above formula, there is a significant appreciation difference between a rich person and a poor person.  In the end, although both people may have  received the same item, the poor person will inevitably experience an infinitely greater amount of pleasure and appreciation. 

Does the man who purchases his second Ferrari derive as much appreciation or pride as the teenager who has saved up for two years to purchase his first $2000 car?  Does the millionaires $20,00 Rolex enrich his life as much as the paperboys $125 Timex that he has been saving up for all summer?  Does 3 weeks on the French Riviera at a cost of 30k bring more happiness and enjoyment to the silver spooned newlyweds of a billionaire than a $1500 one week all inclusive trip to Cuba would for a hard working middle class couple?  The answer is no.  In every case I will argue that the opposite is true, because the less 'fortunate' person still has a great set of Taste Buds that they can use to truly appreciate what they are experiencing and be thankful for it.

The worst case scenario in the Taste Bud Paradox is the person who has so much money that he or she can literally have anything that they desire (Buffet, Gates) and their ability to acquire any item they want is infinite (%100).  How can they possibly establish any appreciation for what they have, after all it holds no real value.  How do they ever feel fulfillment, pride or satisfaction?  I guarantee that it does not come from monetary items; these are impervious of any true value in the hands of someone that did not have to ‘exert effort' to get them. 

What of desire (D) at this level, is desire not driven by the sub conscious knowledge that something is almost unattainable?  Do we not desire more what we can not have or at least realize that we must work very hard to attain?  If there is nothing that we can not have what would we truly desire?  Does owning that 200 foot motor yacht provide a greater sense of pride and appreciation to the man who purchased it than it does to say his hard working captain who sails it for him?  Probably not.  I’m betting the Captain has way more appreciation, pride and internal fulfillment from the yachts luxuries than the owner could ever dream of.  Once again does this seem fair, why should the lowly captain be the beneficiary of all these wonderful internal feelings of pride and appreciation while the owner who outlaid the 50 million to purchase the Yacht sits in his state room and frets over why his humidor is not working properly and his linens are wrinkled, all the while completely ignorant of the fortune and luxury that surrounds him?

This is the cruelness of the Taste Bud Paradox.

So, in the end, does this mean that all rich people are unhappy?  No, not really, but I will say this, everything has its price and the price of wealth is ultimately going to be your taste buds.  Is it better to be rich or poor is a decision for each person to make individually.  But I do believe the Paradox exists, and I believe it was created for a reason.  In the end the best bet is to find fulfillment in other places.  Monetary items whether you are rich or poor will rarely provide the long term benefits that something as simple as friendship or family can.  Happiness is a conscious decision, made within, by you, not by someone else, but having quality people in your life sure makes finding it a lot easier.

Ideally, the best scenario in my mind would be to be born poor, become rich, be blessed with a really, really good memory and have more friends than dollars and the help of a loving family to help keep track of them both.

Hot Tea
April 10th 2007

Ryan is just about to crest her 19^th month of existence on this planet and if the next 900 months are anything like the last 19 she’ll do just fine.  She has been learning by leaps and bounds lately, talking a lot more in 2 and 3 word sentences, understands 70% of what you are trying to tell her and we understand about the same of what she is trying to tell us, thankfully the communication confusion is lessening with each passing day. 

On the downside of things somewhere along the line she has developed this mischievous little streak that my mother swears came from my very own gene pool.  Anyway, call it pay back or whatever you want it keeps us busy.  It’s not that being a little mischievous is a bad thing; the way I look at it, it takes thought and planning to pull off something that people are trying to keep you from doing.

In any event, she tends to touch things she shouldn’t to get a reaction and see just how far her parents are going to let her go before she gets ‘in trouble’.  Most of the stuff we forbid her from touching is quite harmless, but none the less off limits, however the important stuff, the ‘danger’ stuff we are firm on and hot tea falls into this category and she knows it.

Last night Melissa and I were sitting in the living room each having a cup and Ryan was quietly playing on the floor with LuLu and Mary, her two dolls.  As her parents managed to fall deeper into a conversation about house reno ’s Ryan got up off the floor and made her way over to the end table.  Now there are 13 things on the end table but only one of them is ‘danger’ so actually in her eyes there was only one thing on the end table.

When we see Ryan doing something ‘non-danger’ but not allowed we respond with a firm NO just like we do when we see her about to do something ‘danger’, the last type of ‘danger’ is the ‘holy crap that child is going to get herself killed’ type and the reaction to seeing this danger as a parent is pure panic, usually accompanied by a couple of short screams and a few bursts of action, which most times only makes matters worse, as was the case with our hot tea episode.

As it were, I looked up from my conversation with Melissa just in time to see Ryan going mid stride across the room with my piping hot cup of tea and I was immediately afraid for her.  “RYAN” I screamed “NO”, it was loud enough that I scared both Ryan and myself, as a result she lost her balancing concentration and managed to spill most of the hot tea on herself and the floor, “DANGER” I yelled at her again as I reached for the cup in a panic.

The combination of me yelling, the hot tea hitting her little hand, the mess she had made on the floor and the panic she was seeing on the faces of her parents was too much.  She began to cry thinking that she had done something very wrong.  Still worried that she may be hurt, instinctively I said “danger” again.  She looked up at me, down at her little red hand and over at the puddle of tea then back at me with her eyes full.  She took off like a shot across the room, I figured in an attempt to get away from the situation, as I would soon see her escape was for anything but getting away.

I watched as Ryan hurriedly disappeared around the fireplace and then listened as she crashed into the bathroom door with full force.  “What was that?” Melissa asked “Ryan crashing into the bathroom door and then the bathroom door crashing into the wall” I replied “I think I really scared her”.  Now I was starting to feel guilty for my ‘over-reaction’ if I had not yelled she probably would not have spilled any tea, but the fact that I did had really startled her. 

I began to get up to make sure she was okay, especially after hitting the door so hard but just as I got to my feet I could here her rumbling back into the living room, she rounded the fire place and was heading straight for me and the mess on the floor, still crying and still frightened….as I looked at her I was stunned….in her right hand she was carrying a full roll of toilet paper.  I fell back into my chair at the sight of this little person, who after all this commotion was only concerned about the hot tea on the floor and trying to make sure that Daddy was not mad at her.  She pulled off a few very tiny pieces in between sobs and gave them to me, enough to soak up a small amount of the tea, “could I have a little more please” I asked, all the while I could feel the warming sensation you sometimes get as your soul experiences true admiration, love and wonderment for another person.  She obliged by ripping off a piece just a bit smaller than the first, “can daddy have the whole roll?” I asked, she leaned forward and gave me the roll, I leaned in too, gave her a big hug and a kiss on her cheek, I held her for a while.  I wanted to make sure that she knew everything was alright and that I wasn’t mad at her.  I sat there with her in my arms, amazed by her, thankful she was okay, and grateful that such a wonderful little gift had come into our lives.  She hugged me back, relieved too that I was not ‘mad’ any more, happy that we still loved her and glad to be in her daddy’s arms.

As I held her I realized that sometimes hugs are the best form of communication between little people and big people and decided that there is no better feeling in life than the arms of my daughter around my neck.

The Hostage Taking
April 8-07

So, I’m sitting in my chair watching the last few holes of the Masters and Ryan has managed to find the clicker that I had strategically hidden between the cushions of the couch.  I need to do this because at 19 months she has learned what the buttons do and takes extreme satisfaction in hitting the off button and then looking toward daddy for his reaction.  Now most people would just say teach her no, and I try, but it is almost impossible to be firm with her when she hits that off button and then looks over with this wildly devious ‘take that’ leer of defiance.

Long story short Woods is about to hit a putt on 16 for birdie to get within one of the lead and BAM off goes the tv.  I look over at the fart monster and there she is, clicker in hand, leering back at me.  She’s to far away to reach and way to unconcerned to yell at but I do have her baby lulu in the chair next to me and she lovvvveess her baby lulu.  I get the bright idea to hold baby lulu hostage over the railing to the spiral staircase, and threaten the fart monster with lulu’s sure death if she does not trade me the clicker for lulu’s life. 

The look on her face is priceless as she realizes the gravity of the situation.  I state my demand “Ryan if you give me the clicker I will give you lulu”, she looks at me intently, she understands completely what needs to be done and makes her way toward me with the clicker in her outstretched arm in a gesture of concession.  I figure hey this is working, I may have finally solved the clicker problem. She methodically reaches out for the trade, puts her hand firmly on lulu’s leg and then leans in to ‘give’ me  the clicker, as soon as she is certain she has a firm grasp on the hostage she hauls off and hurls my clicker over the railing and down to its inevitable death below on the hard tile of the basement floor, all the while tugging doggedly on the hostage to free her from my grip, I was shocked, I had just been duped by a 19 month old.  

Next thing I know  LuLu is safe and sound in the cuddling arms of the retreating offender, my clicker is in a million pieces one floor below and I've got to get up from the chair to turn the TV back on like I was living in the 70's again.  In the mean time the Fart Monster has made it over to the relative safety of her mothers side, but her leer of defiance is still the same, perhaps a bit more smug than normal but it's still screaming 'take that'.

--

Waiting for the bus
APRIL 02 07

Once again yesterday I found myself 10 minutes away from doing something I was suppose to have done 10 minutes ago, so naturally I was in another one of my hurried states as I headed out to pick up Ryan at her day care.  Life has been busy, business a little slow and the pressures of day to day existence everything that one would expect.  Sometimes it’s easy to become overwhelmed with all that there is to do in the run of a week and as a result come down with a mild case of ‘why me-itis’.

Winter had finally decided to begin its exit in our area which should be an emotional bonus, but the weather is still cold, grey and damp, and that’s the excuse I have chosen to explain my mood of late, after all if Shakespeare can use it to set the tone, why can’t I?  It’s not quite full out exasperation or depression but more or less a mild case of the blahs; I really do believe that a change of seasons will do that to you.  In any event, life has been a bit dreary, so when you add to it the fact that I am late getting to where I am suppose to be the last thing I needed to see on the long straight stretch of road ahead were 9 cars stopped behind a school bus as it moseyed along letting off its passengers.

I’m all for public transportation and school buses but why must they stop every 5 houses to let out kids two at a time, what's wrong with letting the little buggers out all at once and having them walk for a bit?  After about the sixth stop in 500 feet I could feel my face starting to flush.  My mind kept flashing back to when I was a child and we all got off as a neighborhood group and were faced with lengthy walks to get home. 

In any event, the last stop before the bus turned down a side road was the clincher, it just sat there, for what seemed like 10 minutes, with the red lights flashing and the stop arm fully extended.  I tried to peer over the roofs of the 9 cars in front of me to see what was up, occasionally glimpsing in my rearview to take some solace in the fact that there were another dozen or so cars piling up behind me that were experiencing the same agonizing delay.  As the seconds ticked by I began to notice the odd person in the procession edging in frustration to the side of the line to try and get a better glimpse of what it was that was taking so long.  I was getting ready to scream, the flush in my face was turning to a sweat on my brow, being 10 minutes late was lengthening into 20 and it was all caused by this bus full of lazy ass kids who couldn’t walk a few hundred feet to their houses but instead required door to door service. 

Finally the flashing lights on the bus turned off, the stop sign swing arm returned to its normal home tucked neatly along the side and we were once again underway.  I fully expected to pass a very large group of kids walking down the side walk, that was the only reasoning in my mind that could possibly explain why this stop had taken so long, but oddly enough that was not the case.  Actually, at this stop there was only one child that got off, and unfortunately for her she was not walking. 

In an instant all of the anxiety, dread and anger that I had been feeling in the previous moments  were completely gone, vacated by the sight of a little girl being guided by her father up a rickety old wheel chair ramp to their home. It was clear now that the few fleeting minutes that to me had seemed like 10 were filled with the actions of a loving dad hurriedly trying to get his disabled daughter and her wheel chair off of the bus and safely home.  I'm sure he was aware, aware of the long line up of cars behind them and aware that he needed to work fast so as to not hold up all of those 'busy' people.  He probably felt flushed too, but for a different reason.  

Who was I to be feeling inconvenienced, to be getting angry at being late or frustrated at being stuck behind a school bus, I don’t know what anger, frustration or depression is, if something as trivial as the changing of the seasons or running late can make me feel all of these emotions how would I be at dealing with day to day life as a 7 year old confined to a wheel chair?

As I began to slowly roll past their home I found myself now fixated on the two of them, I watched intently as her dad and her crested the top of the ramp and began to disappear inside their house, as they started to cross the doorway he leaned her chair back just slightly, enough to bring up the front wheels and allow them to scoot over the lip of the door frame, at the same time her head swung back with the slant of the chair and he leaned down and gave her a quick playful kiss, a ritual the two of them probably shared in each and every day.  Although I could not see her face I knew that she was smiling, smiling at this kiss from her dad, smiling at being home safe and sound and smiling because she was alive and she was loved.

I knew this because I was smiling too.

OUR TRIP TO SEE THE DOG

Preface

Grace Bay is a fitting name for this crescent shaped 29 square mile tip of sand poking out of the western edge of the Atlantic Ocean, the nature of the waves on this reef protected body of water is more of a gentle lap than the normal roll and crash one might expect on a place surged upon by the bullish Atlantic.. 

Five days of perfect weather had allowed the waters of the bay to become crystal clear, each small particle of sand returning to the smooth bottom from where it had originated with the previous week’s storms.  By the time our trip would end we could see down 80 ft with ease.

A visit to this part of the world is almost always exclusively for pleasure, but in our case things are a bit different.  An unusual string of happenstance had caused one of our best friends to land here almost five years ago, and in the time since we have been fortunate enough to play guest to his host on two occasions.  As much as we enjoy all that comes with landing here, foremost in our minds is spending time with Blair.

Having Blair living ‘on island’ lends itself to some wonderful benefits, his extensive knowledge of this little piece of paradise and the people that live here makes planning a fun week much easier.  

He has picked up right were he left off when he left Canada in 02….making friends, good friends and he has a lot of them on the Island.  I’m guessing that they all see the same kind, sincere, generous, fun loving qualities in him that we do.  A lot of his island friends played big rolls in making our trip indescribable; Sara saw us through the Spa at the Palms, Eddie took us deep see fishing, Kadri and Kenard had us out on the 42 foot Africat, Johnny hosted us at his beautiful restaurant BACI and most importantly Blair made it all happen for me and Melissa through his generosity and kindness. 

Picture of the Africat

I found myself on more than one occasion, during my 7 day stay, watching him with a giddy sense of pride, whether it be him shaking the hand of a former buyer, or joking with the owner of a restaurant we were eating at, or chatting on the phone to a client discussing his next big deal, I could not help but think that this sharp, savvy, concise, professional was the same doe eyed, winner take all crazy man that I’ve known for more than 25 years.  

Never was this transformation made more apparent then when we sat in is sales office on the new Point Project. He played his normal roll of sales person and Melissa, Donna, Dave, Bob and I, in jest, played the roll of the wealthy billionaires.  He seated us at this large, antiquated, 300lb table, by Blair’s design our view was partially of him but mostly of this breath taking private glance across Grace Bay .  

Over Blair’s shoulder was a very large screened in porch which allowed for an unobstructed look into the billionaires future, your senses were assaulted with all of the pleasures that money could buy, the smell of the sea air, the touch of the breeze on your skin as it whisked by, the sounds of the waves lapping and the odd bird chirping and most importantly ‘the deal clincher’ as doggy would call it, the sight of the turquoise waters of Grace Bay and the shimmering sun that danced upon it as the waves doddled up onto a pristine private beach of powdery white.  

At the end of his presentation he jokingly tipped up this huge table as only someone with doggy’s physical strength could, causing the pen to roll swiftly across and into Billionaire Bobs lap, “sign on the dotted line” doggy quipped.  Yes Doggy has come a long way, and he can take most of the credit himself, he has worked hard and persevered in the face of trials that would have quelled a lesser person.

And so our trip begins......

Turks Trip
The Beginning

I know why they call them trips now, every which way we’ve turned in the last 3 days we have been stumbling over something.  It started on Wednesday, two days before we we’re scheduled to leave with a call from Tami, Ryan’s daycare provider.  “…better come pick up Ryan, she had Diarrhea this morning and she just threw up all over the place”.  So out I went to get her, she was a sad sack sitting there with her little onesy and an expression that screamed “what the heck is happening to me”.  I loaded her into the truck and lugged her home to see mommy for some much needed comfort.  The problem with that is that soon mommy was the one needing the comfort as Ryan’s flu bug had found a new home. The timing could not have been worse.

Our trip odyssey began on Friday with a four hour drive to Halifax to catch our plane and drop Ryan off at her grandparents for the week, it was fairly uneventful, but even with the two days rest, both mommy and Ryan were still feeling a little off.  After arriving at Mark and Mary’s house Ryan managed to have diarrhea a few more times, throw up again and fall down twice, both times on the hard tile floor, ouch. 

We had all had enough and decided to go to bed so that mommy and daddy could get rested up for our early morning flight and we could spend one last night with our little girl, it was not long before mom was up and  sprinting to the loo herself, stubbing her toe on the treadmill as she struck out across the dark bedroom floor in search of that porcelain bowl.  This trip was becoming an uphill battle and with each passing minute it seemed the slope was getting steeper.

The next morning as we got the truck packed up for the short drive to the airport, we both felt very very sad about leaving Ryan for the week. Once at the check-in counter, I looked over toward Melissa and could see that her eyes were misting up,  the reality that we were not going to see our little girl for 7 days was far outweighing our excitement of heading to the sunny south. A little bit of a reprieve came when the Air Canada representative told us that we had been bumped to first class, it was a much needed lift, and made our sadness if not less, much more comfortable.

We made it to T.O. and hooked up with our good friends Donna and Dave, we had a healthy lay over so we used the time to catch up on our mutual parenting experiences and all the other life events that go along with raising a child.  We had snuck into the Air Canada lounge so drinks were on them, although mama was still feeling like a rainy Monday, the rest of us took advantage of the airlines generosity and had a few coolies.  Soon we would be boarding the plane to the Turks, we wondered if we would be upgraded again, but it was not to be.  We spent the next 4 hours cramped in the back of the plane crossing our fingers that neither one of us was going to need the use of the paper bag in the pouch in front of us.

As we came in to land, the sun was setting , the water was shinning and I could feel a general relief that we had finally made it and could put the stress of the last few days behind us.  Melissa was feeling a little better, she had not been sick again and I thought she was probably over the hump.  I knew that Blair would be at the airport to get us and take us under his wing for the next week, which is relief enough in itself; things were going to be on the upswing, definitely.  Of course given the history of the last 72 hours this would prove untrue.  As we waited patiently by the carousel for our luggage to come through two things became perfectly clear, first, that we were slowly becoming the only ones left in the airport and two that none of our three pieces of luggage had made the trip.

So for the next seven days, courtesy of Air Canada we would remain luggage-less.  It was brutal pay back for the 10 or 15 doubles that Dave and I had swilled back in the Air Canada club, I’d rather remained sober and had my luggage, but his is another much longer story which I will not get into.

Doggy was at the airport to meet us, and Deanno too.  It was great to see the both of them; they are such good, true friends.  After a quick cleanup and a short brain storming session on what we were going to do without clothes it was off to Ana Keona for dinner.  This is one of Doggy’s favorites and a beautiful place to sit down to a meal.  It is located on the beach of Grace Bay and you can literally here the waves lapping at the shore.  The food and drink were great and the company even better.  Mamissa was still feeling a little under the weather so it was back to the condo for her.  Dave and Donna were suffering from a little Jet lag so they would join her.  Doggy, Dean and I headed off to the bars for a few coolies and some good old time story telling, it was fun.

The next day brought more of the same for Mamissa, it would prove to be a day of rest, literally, 18hrs worth.  The rest of us loaded up into Doggy’s boat and headed off to one of the outer islands for some sun bathing, football, swimming, snorkelling and a BBQ, it was great and very relaxing.  We had a chance to spend the entire day with Blair, Dean and Dean’s new girlfriend Sara and catch up on old times, it was a much needed gab session, and a great opportunity to size up Sara, she is wonderful. 

After a day of boating it was back to Doggo’s condo for a wonderful supper, steak and lobster, lots of chit chat and more stories.  A maritime kitchen party in the upper echelons of Turks society if you will, 6 current paupers and two former ones eating, drinking and carrying on like millionaires, it was a gas.

Monday was Sara’s day to shine, as Doggy treated Dave, Donna, Melissa and I to some time at the spa, a place managed by Deans girlfriend Sara.  The Palms is the area’s finest spa, and we would soon find out why.  I am still having night terrors about the way my body was bent, twisted and manipulated.  I said when it was all over “I could have been in a car accident and not been bent in that many ways”.  I must say though when it was over, I definitely felt super.  From the spa it was down to the pool at the palms for supper, some swim up drinks and some tanning on the beach, not a bad way to spend the day.

more to come....check back.