our family just returned from another little trip to the canadian rockies. yes, i know it seems excessive, two trips in one summer is more than we are used to. we are not the high rollers my perfect grammer and sentence construction may have led you to believe we were. we are only slightly north of quite poor but we always pick entertainment over land taxes. plus, my sister and her husband had visitors from nova scotia and offered our little family the extra bedroom at the rented chalet.
we are not bogner dressed, high-end mountain park visitors. we do not quietly stare in awe at the majesty and beauty of the towering peaks. instead we say things like "that's some high up there" "that's some god damn water pounding down that mountain'" for christ sakes, it's not a big bear, get out of the car." yes, we are those kind of tourists. in our defense we do not drink or litter or ski out of bounds (well if we did ski, it would be in bounds). i think the highlight of the drive through banff and jasper national parks are the fantastic, random animal pull-overs. you're roaring along, when suddenly you come upon cars lining each side of the road. you screech to a halt, grab your camera and jump out of the car. this past weekend it was mountain sheep. poor, dear, mangy sheep, being photographed by tourist paparazzi. i have seen probably 500 mountain sheep in my lifetime but, well you know. ..... the sheep stand there, disinterested, hot and panting, licking salt and mineral from the white mountain stone. i take a picture, thinking you poor little bastards, i start to baa. baaaaaaa, baaaaa. not just some amateur story-time" baa" but quality animal impersonation's sound. i scared the shit out of some poor german fellow standing next to me but i keep going. what i was actually saying to the sheep was "i have bottled water and salted soda crackers in the car, coooommmme, coooommmeee here." the sheep looked up and i didn't have the heart to take their picture. people did not start to baa along with me. i thought they might, but apparently i'm not that cool.
fast forward to this morning....i'm back home i get up and start checking my favorite blogs. june - new, rhonda - new, chris - new, katie - new and terri - new. and the best bit, my sweet terri is talking about her floating boobies. well, i thought, i have a boob story. a current event boob story, a live from alberta piece of reporting. terri has made it possible for me to talk about my boozies.
so rewind 2 days........
after a day of sight seeing, a lovely supper and laughter filled evening we all settled down for the night in our little mountain home now i'm not the type of person who can worry about something for more than five minutes without sharing it with those around me. so at about 11pm i went into my sister's room and said "what the hell do you thing this is". she peered at me, unfocused and startled. what was i doing with my pj top pulled up, inserting my ample chest into her face.
"i'm sleeping," she hisses
"your light was on," i retort
sister: what do you want?
me: i want you to look at my boobs
sister: yes, of course that's what you want
me: ha ha, now, smarten up and take a look
sister: they're massive
me: jesus christ, underneath, look underneath, at the rash.
sister: oh, that's a yeast infection.
me: a yeast infection, my breasts don't actually come in contact with my lady bits you know
sister: that doesn't matter, it's because your boobs are so heavy . you know all that sweat, heat and darkness.
me: those are the conditions for growing mushrooms, jesus, isn't yeast a fungus? shoot me now. i've turned 50 and suddenly i'm the living garden.
sister: go away
me: are you sure of your diagnosis?
sister: yeah, someone at work had it
me: did you see it.
sister: no,. but she described it and we googled it.
me: that's comforting. what do i do?
sister: you have to get some monistat or fungus cream
me: how is sticking monistat up my front passage going to bring relief to my bosom
sister: you put the cream under your boobs, idiot.
me: i knew that
enter my sister's friend.
friend: i can't sleep. the management has told the people in the next cabin to turn their music down and get out of the pool. why are there so many kids staying her?
me: it's the name. you can't very well name your resort after a native american disney character and expect the senior crowd.
friend: i suppose, what kind of name attracts the old people?
me: " whispering winds", "the dew drop inn", that sort of thing
sister: will you two shut the hell up, i would like to go to sleep.
friend: yes, why are you still awake? are we talking about someone?
sister: yes, we are talking about beverly's boobs
friend: they are massive
me: i have a rash
friend: let me see.
me: jesus, why not
friend: what do you think it is, pat
friend: i concur.
me: have you seen it before?
friend: no, but your sister should know
me: maybe i should go outside and get the opinions of the revelers.
friend: you should put some cornstarch and gauze on it.
me: two items not readily available here in a national park at midnight
sister: i told her to use monistat.
friend: yes, half an applicator a boob, that should do the trick
me: well, i'm glad we go that sorted.
so on the way home i stopped at a drug store to find my sister's prescribed cream . my daughter said "please don't show the pharmacist your boobs."
me: you could always wait in the car
her: mommy please, we have all looked at your rash, that's enough.
me: what does it matter. we will never see the people in that drug store again
her: you maybe not, you're old but i might have to come her one day.
me: are you coming in me me?
her: are you showing?
me: i'll decide when i get in there. if there's a bunch of people, yes.
her: i'm coming
me: see, baby you like a big show