It was the blurst of times.

Can you guess what I find funny about this photo? For context, it’s my baby shower. That’s my mom in the middle and my sister in front of her. I am the baby.

I’ve already shared this photo with several people and asked them the same question. Most of them guessed correctly: the smoking. This un-rattled lot also conceded that it was “the style at the time.”

As was dressing like a Mormon from the waist up:

So, I made a one-night trip out to Vancouver on Valentine’s Day. I travelled there in luxury (seaplane) and returned economically (ferry). With my living situation up in the air, I wanted to make a quick trip to the mainland to see my 1,169-month-old opa. Opa mentioned in an email a few months back that my dad had left a box of my childhood mementos with him. I found the timing to be weird. What I did not know was that the family business finally closed after 55 years last week, which means the basement had to be cleared out.

The first thing I pulled out of the box was the dress I wore when I was a 7-year-old flower girl.

There were even more worthless things in that box, most notably all the weekly spelling tests I did in the fourth or fifth grade (I had the same teacher for both grade). Taking spelling tests meant another student and I had to meet with our interpreter beforehand to review the signs for each word to be on the test. As our interpreters weren’t certified ASL interpreters, we often resorted to workshopping a made up sign for many words. One of these words was “scattered”: I remembered the made-up sign and spelled it correctly. My deaf peer, however, lost a mark for writing “sprinkle” as it was the sign for sprinkle. It’s funny how leafing through old spelling tests conjured this memory.

I left the ruffly dress behind, opting to take only a small, disorganized photo album. My next stop was Zoée’s place, where I was to spend the night. Whenever I go to the mainland, I usually stay at Zoée’s for at least a night. This time was slightly different: it was now Zoée and Greta’s place.

Before I left yesterday, Zoée asked me if I would blog about their cat.

Absolutely.

Greta did not bolt from her lounging place on top of the cat tree as soon as I entered their home, giving me a positive initial impression. The efforts Zoée put into making the home a stimulating environment for Greta also wowed me. Having co-owned cats who relished napping in cardboard boxes and playing with fabric scraps or bread bag twist-ties, I’d have been hesitant to invest in a cat wall.

But Greta, a former stray, is evidently classier than Bubble and Enfoirè, and seemed stoked on the cat wall.

Before floating back to the island the following day, I indulgenced in a few obligatory Vancouver activities: got my hair done, ate sushi, and got some takeaway gourmet donuts. Not bad for <30 hours on the mainland.