|LOST IN THE BACKROADS OF SCENIC BLUE MOUNTAIN, |
moments before damn near drowning in a Biblical rainstorm.
For the first time in about six months, I didn't visit my Piggly this weekend, and I haven't felt so lost since that time I got the idiotic notion of giving up drinking. However, I understand that sometimes kids need a break from their parents, so I gracefully accepted their alleged "other plans" by throwing a crying jag and then having them tailed by a private investigator. (Haha! If you're reading this: HOW WAS YOUR VISIT TO RED BAY? Also, you drive too fast, and three stops at Tim Hortons on one road trip is excessive.)
"Are you sure you don't mind, mom?" my daughter asked anxiously, but I waved her off.
"Oh goodness, no," I said breezily. "I have so many things I've been meaning to get to. It'll be heavenly!"
And once I got over the shock of withdrawal, I decided it actually was heavenly. I'm always whining about being too busy and now here I was with the unexpected luxury of free time. I lay in bed for hours Saturday morning, mulling over my options, with the frontrunner being housework. Which I have a strict policy of trying to never do, so I kept mulling. Shopping? Dinner with friends? Go to a movie? Take a road trip to Red Bay and pretend it was a total coincidence?
In the end, I went with the road trip option, but to Blue Mountain. It's close and I've heard it's very scenic and sociable, which I figured would be just the thing to banish my baby blues.
|APPROACHING BLUE MOUNTAIN, blissfully unaware of the fun those clouds have in store me.|
The drive there was absolutely beautiful, but as I neared Collingwood, the skies began to darken. Oh well, I thought, it'll probably just sprinkle. Part of the adventure! I continued happily along, taking any backroad that beckoned, and soon finding myself deep in a maze of twisting, misty hills. "Hm. I might actually be lost," I thought, but I decided that was part of the adventure too and kept driving. Then the clouds began to churn and rumble, trees began to bend and moan, and I saw a mother grab her children and scurry indoors. Right around then, I noticed my gas tank was flashing empty. "I'm sure there's a gas station somewhere up here ... in the middle of nowhere," I murmured, just before an ear-splitting clap of thunder rattled the car like a rottweiler shaking the crap out of a Pekingese.
In the next second, the sky opened up and torrents of rain gushed out. I couldn't see a foot in front of me and even if I could, I didn't know where I was going and I was in real danger of running out of gas. I pulled over to what I hoped was the side of the road and sat there, being feasted upon by the small army of mosquitoes that had made their way in before the rain hit. The only thing that could have made this trip better, I thought, would be if I'd paid good money to have my hair straightened.
Eventually, the rain let up and I made my way back to civilization, found a gas station, bought a huge bag of yogurt-covered pretzels and asked for directions to any road that would get me the hell out of Blue Mountain. And when I got home, the first thing I did was call my daughter. I pretended to be interested while she regaled me with her day-trip tales, but all I really wanted was to do was