2006-08-23 - 10:17 p.m.
My Best Day EVER Out With My Mom*
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For those of you not in the know, my relationship with my mom has long been a tenuous one. So, the idea of bringing to Vernon, and my mom, my soon-to-be Japanese husband set me at more than a little unease. A heroic and vigilant effort would clearly be required to make such an event a success, and I honestly wasn't sure if my constitution could support the makings of such an effort. So, when my aunt called me to say that she and my mom were coming to Victoria to visit I was delighted.
I had been granted a test run. Or maybe, I'd been given the opportunity to give them a test run of me. A little get together to assure us all that my soon-to-be future was very likely to be a success. And, at the very least, an increased chance that our visit to Vernon would be successful.
And what follows will be a magical description of how today's events would unfold. And, yes, parts of it really do feel surreal. And so, I would like to invite you all to now, please, recall images of your favorite Surrealists (be they David Lynch, or the magic surrealism of the literary realm) as I take you to...
Breakfast at the Dutch Bakery. My mom and my aunt had already eaten muffins and I'd had half a turkey sandwich for breakfast before meeting them at their hotel. So no one was actually hungry and the plan was to have some coffee and pastries, and then decide what to do with the rest of the day...
And the coffee was bad, and the pastries were excellent, and my aunt mentioned that she'd been looking for a book so I took them to...
Books on View. I was already a huge fan of this bookstore, and now I am of the die-hard variety. I walk past this place often and think, I have ten minutes to kill, then come back out again an hour later thoroughly stoned on books.
They sell new and used books. And it recently opened, so the entire store is still extremely well-organized. It's entirely underground and good for losing track of time in. They usually play jazz music and the staff are unrepentantly unpretenious and ridiculously helpful.
And they were playing jazz, and the boy working there today was ridiculously helpful, Google-searching the book to make sure that we had the author's name right, phoning the other store when we were sure that Books on View had no copies, and making pleasant conversation with my mom (which is not always an easy thing to do).
I wanted to go to the Salvation Army on Quadra Street to look for expensive-looking brass buttons to sew onto my cheap-looking trenchcoat. And on the way back to their hotel to get my aunt's car I took them to the Christ Church Cathedral because it is, truly, a beautiful church.
And when we got there, someone was playing the pipe organ. And I've visited the Christ Church Cathedral in Victoria many a time. I've sat there, with my Riverside Chaucer, for periods of time an hour or more.
And I've never before heard the pipe organ there playing.
The elderly volunteer who babysits the church by day explained to us that the man who plays the pipe organ in Westminster Abbey (you know, like, for the Queen) is visiting in Victoria and humbly dropped by the cathedral to ask if he might be allowed take their pipe organ for a spin.
So we and the elderly volunteer were treated to a recital on a very impressive instrument by a very well-qualified musician. And I never did find out where he was seating. Pipe organists don't usually sit in front of the pipes. And it's entirely possible for a pipe organ to be played in a room set a considerable distance away from the pipes. The elderly volunteer couldn't hear me well when I asked where the organist sits, and especially not so over the sounds of the pipe organ.
But not knowing makes this memory better anyways, so I don't mind at all.
We drove to the Salvation Army on Quadra Street, which I'm convinced is the filter through which all other Salvation Army locations in Victoria are fed, but never go to. It's much too far to reach by bike and the No. 6 bus (which goes past it) is one of the least pleasant bus routes I know of.
I wasn't able to find suitable buttons, but I did find a pink, red, and black striped shirt that clearly cost a lot of money to make and fits like a proverbial glove, as well as two Edith Piaf records, in mint condition, which everyone should know ought to cost more than two dollars. My aunt found a painting in a really nice ceramic frame which reminds us of Millet's Gleaners and my mom bought a turntable.**
And I didn't encourage her in this transaction at all, but approve of it more highly than words can properly express. A record player gives her and my soon-to-be Japanese husband at least one thing in common and I know I can count on a trip with them to the Book Nook in Vernon being an outrageous success.***
My mom also bought a handsome glass wasp catcher of the sort which operate on the principal that wasps will fly upwards, but not downwards. And this object would come up again at the...
Beach. I asked if they wanted rocky beach with lots of tidepools and purple starfish, or a long sandy beach with plenty of those pretty sand-smoothed pieces of broken glass. (Just give ELOFTING@HOTMAIL.COM access to a car in Victoria and you could go too. But no... hell no, it's much too far to bike.)
They choose the long sandy beach, which is fine because going to that beach makes for a much nicer drive.
And it was a nice drive. And it was a beautiful day. And the blackberries we found growing beside the beach were delicious and ripe. And while looking for a good place to pee, I spotted a pristine-looking cork, ideal for the new wasp catcher.
After the beach I returned to the ASCO Institute with plans to meet them at The Old Spaghetti Factory at seven.****
And upon my return to the ASCO Institute I discovered that my boxed-set of Outlaws of the Marsh, which I'd ordered online, had finally arrived. I've never had a boxed-set delivered, and I haven't ordered books online since March, and this is exactly the sort of thing which would normally make my day all by itself.
And dinner was good. My mom didn't use any tones of voice I found offensive, and we don't normally eat entire meals that way.
I had penne with tomatoes and chorizo sausage cooked in garlic. We ordered a litre of red wine. And just as the spumoni ice cream was arriving (I think the spumoni ice cream may have something to do with why my aunt likes the Spaghetti Factory so much) my mom announced that she wasn't feeling well, and that was going outside for some air.
And after I'd finished my ice cream and asked my aunt if maybe I should go check on my mom, our waiter came back to inform us that she'd passed out.
And when we got to her she was already awake, but still lying on the floor. And an ambulance had already been called. (Fair enough as if my mom had actually been hurt, and an ambulance hadn't been called, she could probably blame it on their employees.)
My mom tells the paramedics that she doesn't want to go to the hospital, and some stuff about how she's waiting for diabetes tests to come back, and while she was in the ambulance - white and amber lights flashing on the curb - having her blood pressure and blood sugar levels taken my aunt and I discussed what had actually just taken place...
My mom didn't eat anything after breakfast, then drank a couple glasses of wine at 7:30, which got into her system before dinner did. In short, my mom got drunk and passed out, and had an ambulance attend the scene, at the Old Spaghetti Factory.
And after I'd tucked my drunken mom into her hotel bed and made her a cup of tea and ensured that she was generally comfortable, I told my mom that I will probably never let her forget this incident.
And I meant that.
Moms think they have the right to judge their daughters' lives and they probably do, and that's just fine. And, say what you will about my life, I, at least, have never, not once, passed out at dinner.
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*I Don't Aspire To That In My Life will continue shortly. For now, this is more important.
**Appearantly she's been looking for a turntable for a while. She has, has always had, an amp and speakers and records, but no turntable. (Turntables have, it seems, been the property of my dad - now her ex-husband - or her boyfriend.)
***I have previously said that the Surplus Herbies in Vernon is the only thing there worth visiting. And now that my grudge against this town is loosening I should add the following:
The Antique Mall, a red brick building which someone passing through Vernon driving away from the west will pass, is the Vernon equivilent to Books on View, but a lot messier because it's been there for a much longer time.
The Book Nook has a blue awning and the books there have never been great. But the entire basement is full of cheap and desirable records. I went to this bookstore at least three times before I was made aware of the fact that this store has a basement. If you should ever find yourself in Vernon please be aware of the fact that this store has a basement!
****My aunt has a charming attachment to the Old Spaghetti Factory. She knows it's not exactly cool to really like it, but still really likes it. And I'm happy to be bought food, so I really like it too.
