Dateline: New Westminster, BC.
(Note to self: Go see the old one sometime.)

As I've retold this story countless times in the time since I've returned, I figured the least I could do is share it here as well. I suspect it loses some of its boozy, imperative nature when committed to the written word, though; I think it's probably far funnier in person.

A cultural difference worth knowing: I was raised to hear pretty words, but not to take all of them at face value. An invitation to come stay with someone, if not repeated or mentioned again, was very likely someone just being polite -- not something to be acted upon. It turns out this is not true of everyone: some people issue an invitation only once, really hoping you'll take them up on it, and then shut up if you don't act on it. Ah, North versus South, are there any gaffes this cultural divide can't inspire?

Fast-forward.

I suited up early this morning, intending to be out the door well before 7. I know that my daytime minutes start at seven a.m., and that any call that starts prior to 7:00 gets entirely counted under night and weekend minutes.

Jody lives in Atlanta, and works the overnight shift. I don't call him as often as I should, but the timing of our lives means that he is finishing up his day as I am readying to start mine. I take a perverse delight in making sure my calls to him start just a couple of minutes before 7, with earpiece tucked securely in my left ear as I drive.

Vancouver. Two words: good food. Cheap sushi and fabulous Ethiopian food.

You might recall that we took a nice short holiday in Canada a couple of months ago. Now that Jess has made available the last of her pictures from Vancouver, I've got the full set. What I'm posting tonight are the pictures from out on the island (i.e., all pictures taken in Victoria). There are quite a bit more from Vancouver, back on the mainland, but I think I'm going to save those for tomorrow. These are plenty enough for now.

Under normal circumstances I would agree that the journey taken is better than the destination reached. This, however, I do not believe could be termed a normal set of circumstances. Our flights home: a truly nasty bit of thunderstorm downdraft coupled with delayed flights and sleep deprivation. In my mind, those can't compare to a relatively normal vacation.

Written on Saturday morning in Victoria:

* * *

Me, in shorts, sitting crosslegged in front of a locked hotel lobby in British Columbia. Such is the joy of getting up early to write and then discovering the joys of a) your spouse having the only room key, which you discovered (too late) that you needed to have to get back inside the hotel and b) that your travelling companions are still asleep and have the only key that will unlock the rental car.