Is that a new hat or is a lizard on your head?

Lately I’ve been fascinated with these self-help books on being positive and how to get the best out of your life. I’ve read several different ones and all of them are really upbeat and the most basic premise is that a person’s attitude dictates their life and how they perceive everything. They are very inspiring.

Makes sense, right?

Basically if you expect the worst you’ll probably get it, and if you expect the best you might get it, and if you don’t then be happy with what you do get and the shut the hell up with the complaining. I’m paraphrasing, of course. (And there’s probably a good reason why I don’t write inspirationals.)

So, I like these ideas and I actually do believe a lot of it. I want to be positive and have that outlook.

For instance, last week my husband was driving home from work and a small rock hit his windshield taking a chip out of the glass. By the next morning it had cracked 15 inches across the windshield and by that evening it was pretty much across the whole thing. We had to get a guy to come out and replace the windshield and it cost $250. Ouch.

Possible Response 1: Damn! That’s $250 I could have spent on Pomegranate Margaritas or food for the needy or Pomegranate Margaritas for myself.

But see how that has a negative attitude?

Possible Response 2: That’s just the way it goes. No one was hurt, the guy who fixed the windshield came right to our house and there was little inconvenience.


Another example. I was headed for a nice walk the other morning. When I opened the door something fell and hit me on the head. I looked down and a lizard was sprawled across my welcome mat with a dazed look on his tiny face. After a lot of jumping around, ripping off my hat, and throwing it in a shrub, I realized it wasn’t that bad. I wasn’t actually hurt, just freaked out. A few weeks ago a similar thing happened to my mother-in-law except what fell off her door was a baby rattlesnake. Mine was only a lizard so I was much luckier.

I guess those positive thoughts are working.

THE GREAT CANADIAN ESCAPE

So we’re in Montana on vacation and it’s going well and then hubby says ‘Hey, let’s go to Canada!” and since I’m working on having a new positive attitude, I stupidly reply “Sure! Let’s go!”

We get to the checkpoint and it’s in the middle of nowhere. It’s only a seasonal checkpoint so it’s not even open all the time. I get the envelope where I’ve stashed hubby’s passport and the birth certificates for the rest of us. I’m also working on being more organized so I’m quite proud of myself for having it all neatly arranged in an envelope.

Canadian Border Patrol Guy comes over to the car and wants to know what we’re doing and where we’re going.

Hubby “We’re going to the (whatever) Park to do some hiking.”
BP guy “How long are you staying?”
Hubby “A couple of hours.”
BP looks at documents then looks at us “Are these photocopies of the birth certificates?”
Me “Yes.”
BP “Where are the originals?”
Me “At home.”BP “Why didn’t you bring them?”
Me “Because I didn’t want to lose the originals.”
BP using a snarly voice “Then don’t come to Canada.”
Me saying nothing but thinking: (But didn’t you see how neatly organized they were?)
BP “This passport isn’t even valid.”
Hubby “What do you mean?”
BP still using very mean voice “You didn’t sign it.”
Right now I’m thinking let’s just turn around and go back. We don’t need to see Canada anyway.
BP hands invalid crap back to us and says to drive on across the border into Canada.
Hubby and I are both a little shaken and nervous at this point and he asks BP “Will we have any trouble getting back across?”
BP sounding arrogant “Not since I let you through. But if you went to another checkpoint, you might.”
Oooooookaaaaay.
I’m not feeling cheerful about any of this right now but we drive slowly through and into Canada. Which I used to think of as Big Beautiful Friendly Canada but not so much at this point.

Kid in the backseat, “Is this Canada? Are we in Canada yet? How much further to Canada?”

We drive for about 10 minutes and I say, “I don’t really feel good about this.”
Hubby, “Yeah, that guy was pretty rude.” (I’m paraphrasing, but this was the gist of what he said.)

Kid in backseat, “Are we in Canada yet?”

We drive another 5 minutes and I’m trying to enjoy the amazing scenery, but it’s not really working for me.
Me, “I still don’t feel very good about this.”
Hubby, “Me neither.”
Kid in the backseat, “La la la. Where are we now? What did that sign say? Are we in Canada? Is this Canada? It looks exactly like the place we just left? Why did we come here?”

We drive another 15 minutes or so and I’m close to hyperventilating. I don’t want to be stuck in Canada. I don’t want to have to learn Canadian! You have to put the ‘eh’ in everything you say and I don’t know how long I can keep that up, eh?

But I start practicing. “How much longer, eh? Do you think we should go back, eh?”

Hubby, who is a very laid back and easy going guy, actually sounds nervous. “Yeah, let’s go back.” If he’s worried then it is definitely time to worry.

We get to the entrance to some park and there’s a little booth where you have to pay to go in. Hubby stops the car and we look at the signs. Their written in English and French, but I’m freaking out about never getting out of Canada, so that I don’t know what the signs said.

Hubby, “Do you really want to go in there? Are do you want to go back?”

Me, “Ithinkweshouldgoback.I’veseenenoughofCanada.” My new positive outlook has deserted me. I envision myself and my family living deep in the Canadian forest as hermits, pursued by the Mounties and a herd of angry moose.

From the backseat, “Aren’t we going in?”

Hubby turns the car around and heads back the way we came.

I’m barely breathing. I just know we’ll never see the US again. How are we going to get home? It’ll be just like those movies where the people have to wait until dark and run through a river and climb a huge fence to get across. And since we’re in Canada we’ll probably have to fight a bear and ride a moose. Or something like that.

But I’m really trying to keep it together at this point and not completely freak out. Deep breaths. It’ll all be fine.

Backseat, “Why are we turning around? Aren’t we doing something? Why did we even come here?”

Me, “Shutup! We have to sneak back across the border!”

Backseat. Silent.

We get back to the checkpoint and get in line on the US lane.

Finally, we get up to the US Border Patrol guy.

BP guy, “Put it in park and turn it off!”

I’m not freaking out. It’ll be fine. It’ll be fine. It’ll be fine. Really, I’m not freaking out.

Hubby hands the BP all of our invalid ID crap and we wait. And wait. I’m sure the guy is placing us onto some sort of watch list on the internet.

He comes back and hands the stuff to Hubby.

BP, “How long were you in Canada?”

Hubby, “About 45 minutes.”

BP – eyebrows shoot up above mirrored sunglasses, “What did you do in Canada?”

Hubby, “We just went to the overlook and took some pictures.”

BP, “Okay. Do you have anything to declare? Do you have any meat?”

Hubby and I look at each other. We didn’t buy anything in Canada. But I’m not real cool in these sorts of situations. I have sort of an issue with guilt.

Me – blurting out. “We have some beef jerky.”

Hubby gives me ‘the please shut up look’ and turns back to the border patrol officer. “We bought it at Wal-Mart in Kalispell, MT.”

BP guy, “Beef is fine. Do you have any bison, venison, lamb?”

I’m wracking my brain. Do we have anything like that? Hubby looks at me again, probably expecting me to blurt something else out.

Hubby, “No. We don’t have anything else.”

BP, “Do you have any fruit?”

Hubby and I look at each other again.

Hubby, “No. We don’t have any fruit.”

BP, “Okay. Go on through.”

I hold my breath until the car is started and we drive back into the US. Yay!!!!!

We get about a half mile down the road.

Me, “OMG! We have raisins!”

Hubby just looks at me and keeps driving.

Okay, so I’m not good in pressure situations like that. You won’t ever see me robbing a Falafel stand or knocking over a 7-11. I may write about crimes but that’s as far as it goes. I’m no good at actually committing them.

So we did make it all the way back to Texas without any other mishaps. I don’t know if we’re on a watch list now with a big piece of beef jerky next to our pictures or not but it’ll be a very, very, (probably never) long time before we go back to Canada. Eh?

Hello? Is there anyone there?

I know it's not my night to post but my writing is at a standstill and writing here is WAY easier than trying to write the devastating scene that will rip my hero and heroine apart. At this point I think heroine might be ready to put a gun to her head and that's just not good - for either of us.

So I just wanted to say what's up and that I miss y'all. Poor Daisy. I'm just sayin'.

I hope you guys are enjoying your summer so far...and that your writing is way much better off than my own...ain't that good English?

Miss you!!!


-Chellie