tales of a traveling librarian

I’m not really sure what to write. First of all, I’m home. In Toronto. A mite early, you might say. Unfortunately, things did not go exactly as we planned for us in Panama City due to some extenuating circumstances and we decided that the best thing for me to do would be to return home and for us to take a break to regroup. Although Court and I have parted ways for now, we haven’t closed any doors (how’s that for cryptic?) and we still love each other very much. This is one of the most difficult things emotionally that I’ve ever had to do and while I might write more about it as time passes, for now, well, I’m having trouble just typing it out.

But I kinda had to. Because I plan on blogging from the cruise my Dad and I are taking as of tomorrow. And I thought maybe you’d read this and be like, um, dude, a cruise? Aren’t you in Central America? And so I didn’t want any confusion. So, yes, a cruise. We’re going to Key West, Jamaica, and the Cayman Islands. Is it last minute? Yes. Is it exactly what I need? Yes. I plan on bringing several mystery novels, my running shoes, and my elastic waist pants to allow for all of the buffet-y. I’m trying to put a positive spin on this. And if coming home means that I get to spend a week with my Dad, well, that’s worth something greater than many many other things. And I’m willing to trust, for now, that everything happens for a reason, and that, well, (God! The cliches!) if we are meant to be together, then we will work things out.

Just in case my calmness doesn’t last though, I’m asking Dad to bring some extra hydromorphcontin. I’ll either take it or turn it into some cold hard cash.

It’s been a hard month for marathon training. Since Around the Bay, I’ve been struggling with pain in my knee. Don’t worry, I’ve been all official about it and went to go see a Sports Medicine Doctor and have been doing physio therapy. Religiously. I’ve also added swimming and yoga/pilates to my work outs routine and brought my running down to 3-4 times a week. But, unfortunately, when I run, and when I hit about 11km in, I get a sharp, shooting pain in my knee. It’s almost instantaneous…fine, fine, fine…BAM. Today, on my first run with my running group in a month, I made it out 15km and then had to TTC it back home. I just couldn’t do it. I didn’t think it was worth powering through a training run when my marathon is around the corner. The marathon that I’m still hoping to run. The marathon that I’ve worked hard for for the last four months. The marathon that I dreamed might get me to Boston.

On the run though, one of the guys, after I explained why I had been out for a few weeks, mentioned his own marathon-ing horror story. He was running his first race last fall, the Scotiabank Waterfront Marathon. He was well well into the race, 41.5 kms or so and was feeling extremely tired. And then, the next thing he knew, he was being helped up by a paramedic, who was asking him if he could walk to the finish. He couldn’t remember his name or the day of the week or where he was and did not make it to the finish. Very understandably. But he said that for the few weeks following, he was so down on himself, depressed, about what happened, about not finishing, about not pushing through. He knew he needed to finish, so he registered for the Toronto Marathon, which took place three weeks after that. Despite advice not to do this from his coach, he powered through and finished that one, but with the side effect of knee pain. He did rest through the winter and is now back training this year with no injuries up to this point. I asked him if he would do it again, and he said no way. The story makes me realize that I’m certainly not the first rookie marathoner to do this. I’ve mentally been ready to run this thing for a while and have forgotten that my body needs to catch up. I was running too much, without the proper cross training and core building. This injury has revolutionized my personal training, not just for this marathon but for me as I continue on as a runner. He got over it: over the severe disappointment and defeat and he bounced back. I’m hoping that I can, too.

But, I’m not going to lie: there have been tears shed the past few weeks. I feel so incredibly disappointed with myself. It’s been a long time since I’ve set my mind to something and had something tell me, flat out, ain’t going to happen. I was doing the best that I knew how. I was following a program and I was committed to it. It was something TO DO during a very stressful and unsure time in my life and it was the one thing that helped me feel sane and competent and productive. There is not much that I can do for my Dad right now (other than get him treats from Hasty Market) but, this race made me feel like I was fighting back, too. It made me feel strong and capable. And then my body knocked me on my ass. I suppose this is probably how my Dad and Denise felt, too. You’re chugging along, doing what you know, and then, BOOM, you’re on your butt. Obviously, not the same and not to the same degree, but the feeling of helplessness, of failing, of shame, I suspect some of those emotions are in there for them, as well. I don’t really know what to do with my brain right now and running was a source of sanity and comfort. It was both selfish and giving and it provided a great deal of necessary equilibrium. And now, now I can’t do it. Well, at least, not as well as I could before.

The fact of the matter is that had I gotten in the month of training that I was supposed to this April, I would have tried to qualify for Boston in Ottawa. Now, the new fact is that I will be trying to just simply finish my marathon in Ottawa. I’ve been told that this is fine. Just finishing. And rationally, I know, it is. That no one but me will be disappointed if I finish in 4:00 or 4:30 or 5:00 hours. But, I’m a competitive person. And I’ve been chasing this for a while. And I just feel incredibly frustrated to not be able to do this. I wanted to do this for myself, as a person who formerly would never have dreamed of doing this, and for my Dad, who, I think, is surprised to find out that he has two athletic children. I want this. I want a this marathon so hard…well, so hard that I actually feel a bit depressed about the status of my physicality right now.

But, I’m not one to wallow. Okay, I am, but I like to think I get over it and then I get something done. So, I’ve subbed in swimming twice a week for cross-training and to keep my cardio up. I started out doing sixty laps, then pressed to 80 and now I do 100. On a whim, I checked Ironman distances (what? a girl can dream!) and the swim in 2.4 miles. I’ll just work my way up slowly. I’m doing pilates and yoga once a week each to work on my core strength and flexibility. And I’m still runnning…just, not my long runs. I seem okay, no matter the speed, up to 10K or so. I can still do my tempos and my speed work outs.

This weekend, I’m going to try running multiple times in one day. I don’t think my knee with hurt as much with a break in between and I read somewhere that physiologically the benefits are simliar as long as the runs are done within 24 hours of each other. I will tell myself that and hope for the best. If I can keep my cardio up, and my fitness, I’ve done enough long runs already to carry me through finishing the marathon. I’m just still working on detaching my pride and self-worth from the finish line. That part is still a work in progress. I’m working on being proud of my effort and not just the results. I’m working on being okay with not, this time, exceeding my goals.

I’m having a hard time coming to terms with just how off I feel about this whole thing. I’m trying to re-group. I’m trying to figure out why exactly I’m so down. I’m trying to remind myself that I’m not running this race just for me. I’m running it for my Dad, because he can’t. I’m running it to raise money to prevent Cancer from happening to other people and to their family and friends. I’m running it because I truly believe that we each can give back in our own way and that these ways take a variety of forms. I am just so disappointed that it’s not working out the way I planned. And I know I need to work on that attitude as well.

Of course, I’m running it a little bit for me. For the girl who used to be twice the size I am now and who dreamed of being more physically active and healthy. This is just one step in a long journey, after all. Perhaps the culmination, but, still only one step. After all, there are other marathons (perhaps in South America?) and other ways to raise money and other ways to give back (Just think of how much can be raised if I do an Ironman…since the donation, of course, matches physical output!).

You know, we’re doing pretty damned well this year. I just hope I haven’t disappointed you, since you have donated (and who have truly outdone my wildest expectations) based on the idea that I was running this, with the fact that I might not be able to…but, I know, of course, that you were donating for Dad and for the effort and because of the incredible generosity of your own hearts. If I think about this too much, I just might be touched.

**You can keep track of how we are doing by visiting our status page.**

Dear Family and Friends,

Yes, once again  — it’s time to Prevent Cancer Now!

On May 24th, Alli will be running her first full marathon.  She has been training very hard to prepare.  It is a labour of love; she is running to honour Dave and his battle with metastatic kidney cancer.   Much as we have first-hand appreciation of the vital importance of research and treatment developments, we still believe the best way to address the cancer epidemic we are all facing is to prevent it from happening in the first place.

We’ve been participating in the 2009 Cancer Prevention Challenge for about five years now.  It is the only fundraiser in Canada that focuses exclusively on primary prevention of cancer.  We believe passionately that this is the way to go … now, more than ever.

Your contribution will support the work of Prevent Cancer Now (http://www.preventcancernow.ca/); an incorporated, broadly-based national movement for cancer prevention and environmental health promotion.   Some accomplishments include:

• launching the Cancer Prevention Declaration in mid-May 2006
• publishing and distributing An Ounce newsletter since January 2007
• the co-ordination of a letter-writing drive encouraging the Canadian Cancer Society to support a ban on asbestos
• organizing a major national conference on cancer prevention (It’s About Prevention. It’s About Time!) in Ottawa, May 2007. The focus was on building a national cancer prevention movement, and establishing a firm agenda for cancer prevention in Canada.
• promoting and supporting the development of the book Cancer: 101 Solutions to a preventable epidemic.
• launching an anti-incineration campaign in 2008 and the development of an Incineration Tool-Kit for concerned citizens in January 2009

Please consider supporting our fundraising efforts (and yes - Alli is making MUCH more of an effort than me!).  We hugely appreciate ANY contribution.  You can donate online by clicking on “sponsor us” at our personal fundraising page.

If you are more comfortable sending a cheque, please make it payable to “WHEN” or “Women’s Healthy Environments Network”, print my name in the memo line and send it to:

Susan Larsh
707C - 211 St. Patrick St.
Toronto, ON
M5T 2Y9

Donations over $20 will receive an official tax receipt.
Please know that we recognize there are many worthy causes out there and totally understand if you choose not to make a contribution.  Perhaps you would consider forwarding this email to your friends …

Thank you for your support.

Sue and Alli

On Saturday, the day before the LONGEST I’D EVER RUN EVER, my Running Room buddy, Tracy, and I drove out to Hamilton to a) pick up our race kits, b) scope out the hills at the end of the route and c) figure out the plan for parking, timing, etc. It was a fantastic day for a drive and both of us remarked on how that day, Saturday NOT SUNDAY, would have been the perfect day to run the 2009 Around the Bay 30K (older than Boston!). We should have made the executive decision to just do it on our own. Who needs aide stations? See, both of us knew, all too well, that the weather forecast for the next day was anything but warm and sunny. Court had been sending me text messages at random times FOR A WEEK with variations on the theme of “snow.” He thinks he’s hilarious.

Well, on the bright side, it didn’t snow. But, there was, shall we say, a bit o’water. Basically, it was pouring. Not like, a gentle spring shower. That kind of rain might even be refreshing around km 20 or so. No. This was a hard, cold, unrelenting downpour. We were soaked by the time we got to the starting line (and starting a race in wet shoes is no fun at all). We were soaked the first ten k, and the second, and, (you guessed it!) we were soaked well into the third. In one giant cosmic running joke, the sun peaked through the clouds just as I was about to prepare the ascent to kilometre 26.

Now, if you’ve run Around the Bay, you will know the ascent I’m talking about. You can see it coming for about half a kilometre, just snaking it’s way up the hill, as you run down a downhill. You can see the brightly coloured runner’s in front of you. And you’re well aware that every step you’re taking down (every blissful recovery filled step) right now is just one step up you’ll have to climb up in about two minutes. I’d heard stories about the hills on this course but I had not heard about THIS specific hill. It’s right at the tail end of a four km section of hills. It’s made harder by being so far into race. And running hills when your legs aren’t fresh…well. That’s a special kind of torture.

Fortunately, I have several excellent running examples in my family and I drew on all of them right about then. (It was that or cry.) I thought of Aunt Denise, who loved this run (although family rumour has it that it made Uncle Randy cry…I told you it was a big hill!). I thought of how she would have never given up, no matter the rain or the cold. Hell, she probably would have been helping coaching someone up those hills, but, let’s face, I ain’t that good. I am, however, midly masochistic, since part of me smiled when that damned spiteful sun came out just as I was about to begin that hill. I turned to the guy running next to me, and said, “I did not see that coming.” He kept his gaze straight ahead and said, “I love this part.” It wasn’t Aunt Denise running next to me and it wasn’t Aunt Denise who said the words…but I like to think something must have been channeling her spirit at that moment to bring that phrase out of that strangers mouth. Because, in all honesty, at that moment,  she/he was right. I loved the hill, I loved the pain, I loved the challenge, and I loved being alive and healthy enough to do it. Running makes me appreciate the things that I take for granted. And that is a truly great gift. Of course, to the guy, I just muttered, “You suck.” And then I tried to beat him up the hill.

Despite wet feet and frozen hands (I couldn’t even open my gel/goo! No amount of blowing on them helped!), despite a chafing shirt and a bloody lip, despite exhaustion and pain by the end, I had an amazing, maybe even fantastic, run. The ipod still worked, the GPS kept counting the kilometres and I managed to find myself finishing gob smack in the middle of my “dream finish” time (2:30) and my “happy with” finish time (2:45). I’m not sure that I’ve ever experienced a happier feeling than running into Copps Coliseum at 2:39 (2:38 chip time!). Of course, immediately after finishing, I wracked my brain with how I could have finished eight minutes earlier (thus earning the coveted silver class of finisher’s medal), while collecting my banana and juice box and breakfast pitas.

You know what felt good? Seeing the look on my parent’s faces, and my brother and his girlfriend, and Court (and Marina too, but I think she was more interested in Mishka)…well, those were priceless. They certainly suggested that I had done just fine in their eyes and I was so happy that they all came out to watch. And I knew that while, of course, there was room for improvement, there was also a lot of room for just being proud of myself. I heard one spectator say, around km 22, to the person next to them, “I can’t believe how fast these people are running, I wouldn’t be able to do it.” And I smiled (although, it turns out that, due to said bloody lip, it was probably not the friendly gesture I intended) because there was a time that I would have said that as well. I would have said that there was no way I could run 5K, 10K, 21.1 K…that there was absolutely no way I could run 30K. And I’m feeling good that it turns out that I can. And now, sitting with extremely sore hamstrings and quads at my computer desk in Flash Class, I’m tempted to think that there is no way I could run 42K. But, if I’m going to learn from my own running lessons that hard work pays off, that commitment and practice pay off, that most of all, determination pays off…then, maybe I can run 42K. So, my plan for the next two months: run like hell!

One of the most bizarre things about my Dad’s battle with cancer is that he’s not battling it alone. You’d think that it would be highly unlikely for another fifty-something to know another fifty-something that has the same disease. And yet, in a bizarre twist of reality, it happened. Denise, whom all us kids usually call Aunt since she is part of the family, has been a part of my parent’s lives longer than I have. She and her husband, Randy, have known my parents since high school. Growing up, there were six of them, plus my Aunt Lynn and Uncle Doug, who spent every single New Year’s Eve together. It started out being pretty easy, when everyone was living in Windsor, but, life happens, and soon each of the three couples lived in separate cities. But, without fail, the celebration rotated from Windsor to Sarnia to Bowmanville and back again. Even with kids, even with work, even with life, they all worked to keep the tradition going. Because there are some friendships, and some people, that are just so worth the effort. And now two of the six, my Dad and Aunt Denise, have Kidney Cancer. I know that it has made both of them feel less alone to have someone to talk to, someone to be honest with, someone with whom they do not have to not sugar coat the shitty things that are going on. Because, guess what? Cancer sucks.

Aunt Denise has a very different story than my Dad (who’s dealt with his cancer on and off for the past decade).Her diagnosis came as a shock, to her and to everyone, I think. She was young and fit and healthy (sorry Dad!). Unfortunately, we all know that physcial fitness and quality of character do not make you immune to cancer (Unfortunately. Sign me up for a world where only the crappy people get it!). The woman is simply incredible. One of those people about whom you’d say, “she’s a true inspiration to everyone who knows her.” Seriously. You guys know I don’t just bandy about words like that lightly. The woman trained for a marathon and qualified for Boston. And then SHE RAN BOSTON, even though she had a tumour in her lung. You’d think that would be enough. But she also was active in many charities, notably as a member of the Windsor Rattlers, who raise money for Multiple Sclerosis research. And she bakes cookies! To raise money for charity! And I gain five pounds every year eating them! I’d hate her if I didn’t love her. Because here’s the thing: Denise didn’t do all of these things for show. Denise did these things because she is a wonderfully genuine person. Who happens to be one hell of a competitor. I admire her perseverance and strength, and the dignity that she has shown throughout the past few months. One of the things that I admire most about her is her ability to draw you out of yourself. She has a gift for seeing the special in the mundane, of finding value in the average. I remember her telling me about a recent visit to a casino in Niagara Falls. She’s not a gambler, but had me laughing out loud recounting how she managed to win at the slots while the regulars around glowered. I could picture it.

To me, Denise is amazing. I mean, here I was, an overweight teenager (okay, so this was back in the day), and here was my Aunt, who could kick my ass running any day of the week. And then she started running marathons. And then, someone told me that she ran faster than the men. That while she was running, she motivated other people to  keep going, to keep trying, to keep pushing. Back then, I thought this was incredible, the sheer physicality of it. Now, as I train for my own race, I know that, indeed, the training was impressive. But that the motivation of others, the ability to give of herself even under extreme conditions, this is what sets her apart from other runner’s. This is what sets her apart as a woman, as a mother, and as a wife.

It’s been a long fight for Denise. Unlike with some other chemotherapy treatments, those for Kidney Cancer aren’t curative: you take them until they don’t work anymore. Unlike with say, Breast Cancer, where you go through Hell, you come out (hopefully) the other side healthy again. This just isn’t like that. You’re on a regimen for two weeks, there’s side effects, you’re off for two weeks, there’s side effects, all the while you hope that something positive is happening inside of you, that the chemo is working. For many people, the side effects destroy the person’s quality of life. And, being such a small person, these really took a toll on her. Until Dad and Denise, I’ve never really thought about life like this: that sometimes the treatment is worse than the disease, that sometimes there’s just no light at the end of the tunnel. I’m not sure what that takes out of a person. But I do know that everyone reacts in different ways. And I do know that it grants you the gift of being able to say what you need to say and to choose to live that last of your life on your own terms. We live our lives by our own rules, why not end it that way too? Denise, and Dad, aren’t cancer patients. They’re people who have led rich lives, who’ve traveled and camped, who’ve had babies and had fights, who’ve succeeded and failed. But more than that, they are both people who are just so very very deeply loved. People expect that illness and disease brings out the wisdom (I blame you Hollywood!) in each of us. It doesn’t. It just magnifies who we already are, some things for the better, some things for the worst. Some days are hard, some days aren’t, some days you’re positive, some days you aren’t. We’re people. But it’s not illness that defines who a person is, it’s all the decisions you’ve made before then. There is no person who could have given more, or been more, to more people.

I’m going to go pick her son, Scott, up from the airport tonight. He’s flying in from South Korea, where he’s teaching English. Randy and Denise have asked him to come home, because they aren’t sure what the next few days will bring. He and my parents are driving to Sarnia tomorrow where they’ll join Denise and Randy, and their daughter Kelly. I’m scared, in a way that I’ve never been before, even in the wake of all that’s happened before. I think my Dad is scared, and my mom, and Jeff, and Randy and Kelly and Scott and all the people who love them. I know what the doctors have said, but I think it’s totally impossible to try to say what will happen for sure. How cancer attacks the body, how the body reacts, how it rallies, none of this is medical science as of yet. It’s speculation, at best, pure guess work at worst. But I also know that no matter what happens, surrounded by the people that she loves and who love her, Denise will face, in her way, whatever comes. As must we all.

Yesterday, Jess’ parents had a few of us over to their place for a post-baseball game dinner. We were settling in, preparing to chow down on what seemed to be 4lbs hamburgers…

Jess: Did you guys hear about the guy who was killed by a helicopter while crossing the street?

Jeff: Yeah, apparently the helicopter was having some kind of mechanical malfunction and smashed down.

Jess: But, the weirdest thing about it was that the headline because it said “Man killed by Too-Loud Ipod” and it was about how the guy had head phones on, music playing really loud so he didn’t hear the helicopter, and that’s what killed him.

Alli: Really? The Ipod? I would have thought it was the extreme crushing weight of a couple tonnes of steel that did him in.

Jess: And the worst part is that now you have to look three ways before crossing the street.

Well, this is a first for me. In all of my flights over all the years, I’ve never had the board say “delayed.” I know. Colour me lucky. But seriously, its just never happened. I’ve heard the horror stories. But up to this point, it was just a myth. However, right now, us Larsh’s are staring down the very real possibility that we’re going to miss our connecting flight and end up stranded in the wonderful (I’m sure) city of Minneapolis. Unfortunately, it seems like delayed is a common event right now, as I just received a text message from Tasha mentionning she was suffering the same fate. It’s nice to know that we are suffering together. On the upside, there’s free Internet, so, for a girl who loves the Internet as much as I do, and who’s been away from it for four days, well, this is nice. It feels like home.

So. Las Vegas. Let’s see. We flew in around lunch time. Now, I’ll admit that I was tired. We had all slept in one room the night before and we’ll just mention that I am the quietest sleeper. If you’ve slept in the same bed as me, you’ll know that that was really only a relative statement. However, once we began the descent, and realized that you could see most of the strip from the airplane, Jeff and I started to get pretty excited.

When I travel, I do the hostel thing. The cheaper the better. Stay at a stranger’s house? Sure. Share a hotel room with people we just met? Done and done. Oh, the airport doesn’t close? That sounds fine. But, this was going to be a very very different trip. One, Dad had done all the booking. This means that we don’t skimp. And by not skimping, I mean, we do things the classy way. But I certainly had no idea that this hotel was waiting for us. Or more than that. The ROOM. Ahem, I mean, suite. This whole city is over the top. In a giant grown up wonderland kind of way. I had no idea all the hotels were themed as other cities and other places and other realities. It really is a fantasy world. You can stay in Paris and New York and visit a fake Medieval world and ride a gondola in Venice, all without leaving the US of A. I can’t decide if its awesome or some kind of sickness. And the place was BUSY. Every hotel was packed. Every street was packed. I was thinking about jogging down the strip as a way to see it, and it was just impossibly busy. It was tacky and loud and bright and, yet, I had so much fun.

As I mentionned, the night all of us spent together in one room was a little bit, uh, crowded. And I was feeling a bitter of worry at the thought of us all in one room for four days. Apparently Dad was feeling the same way, because at check in, I heard the words “upgrade” and “yes.” And that meant an upgrade to a suite bigger than the condo, with two bedrooms, two bathrooms, three tvs, a couch, a bar, a table, everything. It was awesome. I was hugely impressed by the MGM, but, apparently, its actually one of the older hotels. I couldn’t believe places like Caesar’s Palace and the Mirage and the Bellagio. Huge is an understatement. We went to the Bellagio to see “O,” the Cirque de Soleil involving water. I was hoping we’d be able to play the poker tables, but, it was just too busy. And I figured if I got my ass kicked at the MGM, I would get slaughtered at the Bellagio. I mean, as you walk in, the stores are Hermes, Fendi, Armani, Chanel. I figure if I can’t shop in the stores, I can’t play at the tables with the people who can.

But I’m getting a head of myself. I was still supposed to be talking about our first day, about how we were going to nap, and how that went right out the window as soon as we walked in the hotel. At that point, there was only the thought of poker tables. Neither Jeff nor I had ever played poker in a casino before. I was hoping to start out at .25/.50 cent tables, but uh, that’s doesn’t happen at the MGM Grand. $1/$2 tables happen at the MGM. Sick. We had to buy in for a hundred bucks…which still seems like a lot of money to me. Which is exactly why I will never be able to be a gambler, but, that’s a little bit ahead of myself at this point. Anyway. Our first afternoon, Jeff finishes up about ten bucks, while I’m down 50. We break only for dinner, and to get player’s cards (because everyone else had one and because um, they looked really cool), and then were back at the table. Where Jeff promptly took me for sixty bucks. I was out shortly thereafter. Jeff finished that night up a couple HUNDRED. In my defense, I was hitting NOTHING, and Jeff was hitting everything. It was the most wild streak of cards I have ever seen in my whole life. I got pouty but felt better when Jeff told me he’d float me the money I lost to him. In the end though, after three days of playing, I was down A LOT, Dad was down a little, and Jeff was up, but not as up as he’d have liked (stupid donkey flush chaser). I think the pictures of the casino are on Jeff’s camera, which he checked, so there will be no photo support in this Live from the Airport addition of this blog.

Now, we did not just gamble in Vegas. You’d think that might have been the case, but you’d be wrong. We also flew to the Grand Canyon. The scenery was amazing and completely different than anything you’d see back home. Unfortunately, it was freezing. And we were on a tour with a bunch of Japanese tourists and so had to listen to everything in Japanese as well as English. And there was also the slight incident involving a small plane, a lot of turbulence, and a mother prone to motion sickness.

So we all made fun of her by taking a picture of us pretending to puke.

We did manage to take a nice family photo at the top of the canyon. In order of heights. You’d think that maybe the librarian would have had something to do with that, but I swear it just happened that way.

On our last day, Mom and I took a quick walk around, the other way on the strip. Which is surprisingly long. I was thinking it’d be a km or so of tacky, but, no. And its getting bigger everyday. There is nothing but cranes along the road, as older hotels are being torn down to be replaced by new mega hotels. Mini cities really. It would have been completely possible to arrive at the hotel and never leave it. And not feel like you’d missed anything. There were shows, restaurants, casinos, shopping, a spa, everything all in one place. Like I said, amazing or disgusting, I have no idea.

All in all, it was one of the most spoiling vacations I’ve ever been on. I’m not sure I will every go back to Vegas. Some things were just ridiculous. A charge for everything. A complete lack of personal space. Too many tacky people. But, at the same time, it was a great time with my family (when was the last time we went away just the four of us? When will the next time be?). And, especially at Christmas time, that is truly priceless. Of course, I probably wouldn’t be writing such nice things if we’d all been stuck in the same hotel room, so, whatever Dad paid: WORTH EVERY PENNY.

Its not very often that the Larsh’s set out as a family. For so many years, Jeff was in the Soo, I was in Ottawa, my parents were in Bowmanville, and we’d cross paths, oh, every Christmas and maybe once or twice in between. I mean, we saw each other separately, my parents watching Jeff’s games, or I’d come home for a weekend, but having four of us under the same roof at once? Didn’t happen. So now that Jeff is done with the OHL, and I’m done with my undergrad, its nice that it happens more often. You’d think that Jeff and i would have had enough of each other after traveling, or that I’d have had enough of my parents after living with them, but, its just not the case. Its a pretty wonderful thing when you realize that you like spending time with your family as people, as well as being family. I think I got pretty lucky. I mean, we can all be pills (how’s that for an eighties saying?) but we can all be pretty awesome too.

It was Father’s Day this past weekend and that served to get us down to Windsor. My entire extended family still calls Windsor home, so, its nice to see them, all at once, both sides of the family. We’re getting older, so my cousins and I are getting to know each other a bit better. We go out, we, ahem “party” and we laugh and take embarrassing photos of each other. We tell stupid stories and joke about our friends and share details from trips we’ve taken or want to take. And then one of us pukes in her hand, another confesses to wanting to be spanked, and the other moans about a missing girlfriend. Its all very family oriented. And hilarious.

On Father’s Day, my Aunt Kathy and Uncle John had my mom’s side of the family over to her beautiful house, complete with pool. Its not a hard day spent lounging in a pool chair with watermelon and other treats being served to you. I had to re-apply my sunscreen a few times, but, it was all worth it. Plus, Sarah and I had run a 5K fun run the night before (she placed first in her age group!), so it was a pretty great way to relax. I miss having a pool sometimes. And a yard. But only sometimes. We’ve never spent Father’s Day in Windsor before, but, it does seem as we all get older, that it is more and more important to enjoy each other’s company while we’re all here. We don’t know where jobs and life will take us, and it seems silly to waste the time when we’re only a few hours apart.