An interesting weekend indeed.

So, you would think that today I would be ranting and raving about the bout of nice weather we are having and how the snow is disappearing at a quick rate. You'd expect me to rub salt in Dancing Man's wounds about the lack of powder this winter. No, no, I understand completely how you might get that impression, but I am here to say that I am above doing anything like that. :-)

So, the weekend was something like I have not experienced in a very long time. Let's start with Friday. For the first one of the year, Pam and I agreed to host our regular poker night. This was a late night activity that took us up to around 4AM. If you were wondering, the house of Assivero did not fare well at all. :(

About three and a half hours after that, I had to answer a call from work due to a site being down. Anyone that knows me about being on call knows that once I am up, I cannot go back to sleep. So, I watched some sports highlights and did some surfing until I heard movement in the kitchen around 10AM. I made breakfast for everyone and then it was off to perform some housework and errands, both of which were mainly for preparation for that night's dinner and for Sunday.

Dinner was with some friends/family from Amherst Island (near Wolf Island in the St. Lawrence corridor). I say friends/family because it is only bloodlines that separate the two. They are very special people to Pam and I so we welcome the time we have with them. This was the first time we could do the hosting and it was an enjoyable time. Pam's cooking was amazing as always.

Dinner was followed by heavy decision making as to either leave immediately and go to Montreal (more on that later) or sleep and get up really early to go to Ottawa for our nephew's Christening (he's the one in the pictures on the blog). After much agonizing, I had to defer to my wife's choice of morning departure.

The morning was an event in itself as we scrambled in our punch drunk states to try to assemble everything needed for the day's gruelling marathon. I was woken up by Pam at 4:30. We were finally out the door after six. Okay, we could still make it to Ottawa by ten. Right?

First my father cuts himself trying to right his body which fell on the last step to the driveway (due in part to the ice, the rest due to the slippery dress shows he was wearing). Okay, back into the house for first aid equipment. Now we are on the road and my work pager goes off. Damn, it is a real ticket and has to be dealt with immediately. We pull into the Tim Horton's parking lot at Brimley and Ellesmere and I pull out the laptop, plug it in, sit it on the wife's lap in the passenger seat and insert the Sony AirCard. I jump back into the truck and head off onto Highway 401 East.

The task at hand now was to navigate the highway while virtually navigating the connection to the Internet and work using my wife as my seeing eye person. We got that ticket sorted out and dealt with and it was time for a quick stop for gas and a bathroom break outside of Newcastle. The goal was always to make it to the church on time and I am determined to change the Assivero name that has been synonymous with late since the beginning of time. I'd have no real help in the task as not only was my father already sleeping, but my wife had forgotten her wallet at home so I was THE driver for this trip.

Somewhere outside of Brockville, I calculated that the current rate of travel would have us arrive 10-20mins shy of on time. I could not allow this to happen so I adjust the rate of travel to change the facts. We arrived in the parking lot with seven mins to go before the service started and got in as the bells rung at 10AM; on time...Yes! So after the service, and the reception downstairs, we venture off to the Assivero East household for some goodies and visiting. SHORT visiting was on the order... we left at 4:24PM. Oy!

Ok, not calling the fro...er.... Quebecers so we could surprise them. We should know better by now but we tried it again anyhow. At 5:50PM, we roll into the Veudreuil-Dorion driveway to find no one home. Oh well, our mission was to drop our kids' Christmas gift and some baked goodies, so we did so; wedged right between the front door and the screen door where it was safe and could not be missed (they did get it as the phone message we got at home indicated).

A quick stop at McD's (pronounced in French) for some excellent salty fries and a bathroom break, and we were off for home again. The cold air had helped to wake me up a bit (so did the adrenaline from bitching about the extremely small-ass parking lot this place has). No Surrete in sight meant a bit more gas to give.

Once we re-entered Canada, we essentially rolled with the normal Sunday traffic of transport convoys and idiots who do not realize they are playing chicken with eighteen wheels of Death. We pass the stop on the West side of Kingston because it a)is a PetroCan and I avoid those when I can, b) was a McD's (pronounced in English) and I did not feel for overhyped food and c) I wanted to be much closer to home so I had something to look forward to after the pit stop that would give me the third or fourth wind I needed to get home safely.

You don't tend to expect much from these places, but a clean work area at the Mr. Sub (between Belleville and Trenton I believe) is not too much to ask for. So, healthy choices out of the way, Wendy's was Queen again. I cannot say why, but my whole mood changes when I order a large Frost(TM), have the person with a clue actually put a proper top on it, and let it melt away so that it can be drank enroute. Mmmmmmmm, Frosty(TM)! Anyhow, eat in the truck, one last gas filling and off we go. Oh, I nearly forgot to mention that some nasty folks apparently don't mind buying cheese curds(!??!) placed in little baggies and sitting on the corner for sale. I say again, N-A-S-T-Y!

So, off for home on the final stretch. I consider certain landmarks an indication that I have nearly arrived at my destination. Going to Montreal/Dorion, it is the defunct weigh station as one crossing the border into Quebec (can we see your papers, s'il vous plait?). Going to Ottawa it is finally reaching the Veterans Memorial Highway (known as the 416, to you less traveled). Going home from the West, it is going under the bridge after Mavis Road. And going home from the East, for some reason, is just after Port Hope when the third lane becomes permanent. I shift into cruise mode from that point because I know the area like the back of my hand and so does most everyone else. Since we all want to get home NOW, things tend to move a touch quicker which is just fine by us.

So, a little while later, we pull into the driveway, unload the truck, and welcome the relatively warm, heat-just automatically turned off, confines of home. It was now before 11:15 as we walked into the kitchen. So, with two stops, just over five hrs. Not too shabby, if I do say so myself. I checked this morning and the round trip in less than 24hrs ate up nearly 1100 kilometers on the old odometer. We are no spring chickens anymore so we were showing the signs of battle in our cracked feeling and severely dehydrated skin.

A warm bed and some welcome sleep was needed to soothe all ills.

nite