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Compartment 14B

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Easter - food, family, friends and frenzied driving.

2004-04-13 - 10:05 a.m.

I didn’t mean to lie to you, honestly. And I was on the computer yesterday but it was to do some seemingly-never-ending paperwork and I couldn’t afford to let myself get distracted because I knew my husband would need the computer when he got home. Yesterday, in fact, was kind of a bust as far as days off go since I didn’t leave the house until the evening and that was to run errands and go to the gym. I did manage time to wax my legs and enjoy a toasted tomato and bacon sandwich after I got home. Hey, you take the small pleasures where you can and it was a good tomato that I’d brought home from Montreal.

Speaking of Montreal, (do you like that smooth segue?) that’s where I was Saturday. My husband, my mother, her boyfriend and I headed out Saturday morning for the two-hour drive. We checked out the new Warshaw’s (a store that was on St. Laurent for at least a generation, but has recently moved to Atwater) and were somewhat disappointed with the reduced selection at the smaller location. We had a blast at the Atwater market though since it was decided to get a selection of whatever tickled our fancy at the various stalls and we’d divvy it up for lunch when we got to my grandmother’s. We ended up with several kinds of gourmet pizza, rice balls, potato-cheese croquettes, spanikopita, black olives, fresh tomatoes and french bread. When we got to my grandmother’s there was a plate of fresh pineapple and a fresh pan of cinnamon rolls waiting for us. And Granny insisted that we take all the leftovers home so I have one bag of cinnamon rolls in my fridge and another in my freezer now. I won’t even go into the long list of things that were waiting for us for dinner at my mom’s friends’ place. Or the details of the Easter dinner with the inlaws the next night. *Sigh* Yet another holiday chock full o’ food. Still, it was very good food and not as unhealthy as it could have been.

Now here’s the thing that really stood out about the trip to Montreal and if you know my mother you can’t breathe a word of it to her because it’ll get back to her boyfriend and he’ll be really, really pissed at me… he is possibly the worst driver I’ve ever had the misfortune to be trapped in a car with for 4 hours. I mean he is terrible, and it’s compounded by the fact that he thinks he is a fabulous driver and incredibly insulted at any suggestion otherwise. He is aggressive and speeds; he whips around slower cars on any side he can squeak by, completely disregarding the fact that he’s in a strange city and looking for a turn himself. He is always either stomping on the gas or stomping on the brake. My neck got sore from being whipped forward and back constantly. He tried to merge into a lane that was already occupied by another vehicle. He’s signaling and moving, the truck isn’t giving any ground; he’s still signaling and moving, I’m looking out the window in the back at the truck which is getting closer and closer to smashing into us (or us into it as the case would have been). Finally I had to say, “C! There’s a car there!” whereupon he jerked back into his own lane.

I made the mistake of mentioning this at dinner. He immediately denied the whole thing, saying that he’d seen the car and that we’d been perfectly safe the whole time. I gaped at him and was all, no, you didn’t see the car, otherwise you wouldn’t have had to jerk away to avoid impact. He got quiet. Uh oh. He remained quiet… for the entire remainder of the trip. This included the last hour of dinner and the entire 2-hour drive home (during which he managed to drive in the oncoming traffic lane, do 120 km/h in an 80 km/hr construction zone, and drive with his high beams on while behind people on a split highway). Apparently my mother continued to bear the brunt of it as his snit lasted past my departure, and he didn’t snap out of it until the next morning.

I have told my mom that I am never, ever going to be going anywhere with them if it means being in a strange city in a car with C driving for more than a few minutes. We’ll take our own, thank-you-very-much.

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