The day that was not perfect

Okay, if you haven't read the post before this one, please do, because I should have posted that one yesterday but I was on vacation and I didn't get a chance to. Done? Okay, continue.

So today I arrived in Winnipeg. I have never visited the city before, but the flight was just so cheap I couldn't resist. My family is here and my best friend, so I figured I could have a good time even though it wasn't an exciting destination like Toronto or San Francisco.

While I was in the area of the airport, I decided to register Mac with Customs. I plan to take him with me to the States next week and figured it would be a good idea. I phoned my dad in the morning to ask him what the process entailed.

"Well they'll give you a green card," he said.

"A Green Card? For Mac? Aw, so that he can legally work in the country?"

In a way, that is exactly what it does. You take your laptop or camera or whatever in and they write the serial number down on a green card. The card says "Identification of Articles for Temporary Exportation", and it just validates that your item was produced or lawfully imported into Canada so that on the way home they can't say you got it on your trip and charge you duty on it. There's no cost and not really any hassle. The card is good as long as it is legible.

With that little chore taken care of, the next activity on the itinerary was meeting Lisa for lunch and shopping on swanky Academy Road.

I met her at Fusion Grill. I paid with gift certificates I had received from my real estate agent. We had a lovely meal and split half a litre of white wine. It was enough, for lightweights like us, to feel a little buzzy. We clinked glasses to that. Lisa always likes to remind me, "we're getting paid for doing this right now".

We walked Academy Road (a bit of a swanky shopping area) and made a few purchases.
We stopped in at the Bernard Callebaut chocolate shop and I bought a very touristy chocolate airplane. The package was even sealed with a label that said "Winnipeg".

One of the last stops was a ladies shop that had just acquired a new shoe collection. The assortment of mostly boots were just piled into two cardboard boxes. I found one particularly delicious pair of butter-soft, chestnut brown, knee high homewreckers. There was no price on any of the items but the saleswoman assured me everything was heavily discounted. They were hot and fit like a dream.

"I'd have to look up the price for you, but they would normally retail for about $1200," she said. I don't know what made me think that any kind of "heavy" discount on $1200 would bring the boots into an affordable range for me, but I dared to ask anyway.

"$435" she quoted me.

I quickly pulled them off and tried to forget the whole love affair ever happened. Once outside the store I lamented to Lisa, "that's more than one bi-weekly mortgage payment. Only slightly less than one Truck payment." I sighed. "We really do need those rich husbands." Reality had hit and the fantasy day was coming to a close. We were not the ladies of leisure we were pretending to be. We were still Lisa and Jill, single girls with a passion for fancy shoes, yet a sobering sense of practicality.

As I walked back to where I had parked Truck I took out my chocolate airplane and noticed with some dismay that one of the wings had melted a bit in the heat of the day. Then I looked up at Truck and gasped.

There was only one person I could call who could tell me it would be okay and what I should do next, and it was not husband or even a boyfriend. I pulled out my cell phoned and dialed frantically.

"Daddy, a tree fell on Truck! It hit the box and dented the rail!"

"Where are you?"

I had no idea the name of the cursed street where the horrible horrible accident had happened, but I gave him the best directions I could.

"Do you have your camera? Take a bunch of pictures. Can you move it? I can come with my saw if you need my help."

"Well it wasn't really a tree, just a limb, I was being dramatic." (which he must have known, yet understood.) "Lisa's here, I think we can manage."

Stupid tree!

We agreed that maybe I wouldn't have to pay a deductible, that the accident would be considered an act of God or something. (Dear God, why did you have to hurt Truck?!) As I think about it now, I'm not so sure. Do you pay a deductible on damage from hail? And then won't my premiums go up? Oh geeze this is getting depressing.

I ran my hand over the injury. The dent would be easy to push out, I figured, but I wasn't sure what it would mean for the spray in liner. "I'm sorry, Baby," I said and stopped short of shedding tears. Truck would not want me to fuss.

Despite the blemish on the day, Lisa and I were determined to finish it off on a good note. We went back to my place and watched Sex & The City before heading out for ice cream. Home once again, I phoned my mom. I hadn't yet told her my ghost story from Monday.

"Maybe it was a mouse," she said.

My stomach dropped. I had never even considered mice. In my house. Ohhhh.

"Well, it's better than a ghost, isn't it?"

I really didn't know the answer to that question.

I had told Lisa on the way home from ice cream that the perfect ending to the night would include some time spent blogging and talking to friends far and away. After talking to Mom I turned on Mac, changed my online status to "I'm so sorry Baby!" and got to work.

"I forgive you," Vince joked.

"Did Truck tell you to say that?" I asked before telling the whole awful story.

And coming in a minute late, Adam popped up to say, "Quickly", at 12:01.

And now, I bid you all a good night.