The Post That Couldn't Possibly Cover The Last Few Weeks And Involves a Lot of Pictures...

I recently said; "See ya" to my first ever adult child.

I wasn't worried or sad about her leaving. I knew she had made an excellent choice and would come back, changed for the "even better".

Once she'd packed her bags, and said a tearful good-bye (not) to her sibs, I'm quite sure she never once looked back.

All the good-bye meals in the world couldn't drag her away from her new family; her Outta Town community who she would be spending all her days and nights with over the following year.

We couldn't have been more excited or happy for her. My only wish was to be a ride-along, but that's just wrong and gross and weird. I AM the mom, after all.

Lucky for me, I suck at making phone calls, so we'd been pretty pathetic with getting her immunizations for the upcoming trip to Guatamala done in time. This necessitated me hunting them down on one of their downtown Winnipeg excursions and bringing her to the clinic for a shot in the arm. I was kind of glad that I sucked, it was so good to see her. Happier than a pig in poop, she bounded out in a kitty cat sweatshirt that even Siloam mission didn't want in their missionary barrel. She'd traded one of her own sweaters for the privelege.

I had to leave her back at the Vineyard Church with her sore arm, and grandma mitts and slippers. They rounded out her nature sweater just perfectly.

She was happier than the allowable legal limit, so it wasn't too hard to let her back to her all grown-up life.

Besides. I had my own to pursue.

Always conscious of our carbon footprint, we anticipated a little green vacation getaway.

Since the basement had recently been carpeted, we decided against jacking up the house and putting it on wheels, and borrowed this teensey weensey little motorhome for the weekend instead.

It was barely big enough for Brian to prepare sushi for the driver while enroute.

It was, however, a comfortable ride. We chose the double bed nearest the sushi and chips for the duration of the trip.

After we emptied out our term deposits and RESP's to fill the tank, we found it was shockingly easy to get accustomed to the lifestyles of the rich and famous.

Our destination? Clearwater, Manitoba. Population: 54, home of the 11th annual Harvest Moon Festival. If there are moments in life during which I am sorely tempted to throw back my head and yell; "I WAS BORN FOR THIS!" its certainly how I felt in Clearwater.

Awesome old campers galore. All haphazardly parked in a field along a beautiful ravine.

 

Oh, how I love Manitoba! (home of the brave)

 

(we blended right in. All four of us in a bungalow on wheels).

I meanwhile, found something a little more sensible and indulged in daydream of retiring in Clearwater. Not that I'll retire before 74, but one can't plan too early.

 

I meanwhile was here for a purpose: to raise some money for the World Food Program.

It was fun to sell to like-minded people.

To learn about their own bags; lives. (A Dr who donated time with Doctors Without Borders, and had this African batik made into a gorgeous little bag)

And meet their dogs. (brochure said; "Leashes suggested")

To sell button hair clips to their children.

And to enjoy every moment of hippie fashion.

Every moment.

The weekend was magical

 

 

and delicious in so many ways.

Life. So full and rich, and ever becoming what we make of it.

Go ahead. Get out there and live your awesome life.

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