May 4th, Waiting

Dear Mother,

Hard as it is for me to believe, we are packed and fully ready--and the taxi is not scheduled to come for another two hours.  The travel day began peacefully enough with Ron here for breakfast.  I was supposed to take him golfing, but I injured my shoulder two weeks ago, yielding to some seemingly inherent shoulder weakness that will likely haunt me to the nursing home.  So we talked here instead over my homemade hot cereal laden with nuts and things.

After he left, the troubles commenced.  For reasons unknown to all, our Telus highspeed internet and TV connections were suddenly inoperative.  Nothing helped.  So I finally got a very patient young man on the phone who tried this and that, both by giving me instructions and by having a Telus technician check our situation centrally.  The problem originated at Telus, which was a relief to us because we were certain we surely had done something amiss, in all innocence.  From the sensations surging through my body, the beta blocker dosage could have been a bit stronger this morning.  Then the TV crashed a second time, so another call, and it now seems to be more cooperative.  Poor Harold may have to deal with it next time.

How I wish I could be in Europe without undergoing the 14 hours of waiting in airports and on planes.  Waiting is not one of my gifts.  Our plane supposedly leaves at 20h20, going directly to Amsterdam, which is a lovely airport, as such things go.  Nevertheless, nine hours is a lot of iPod, and way too much sitting, and that doesn't include getting settled on the plane for the duration of a full two movements of a Haydn symphony.  I will be rereading my camera manual, cover to cover.  If that doesn't put me to sleep, I have two books, one on The Book of Revelation and the other a mystery.  Come to think of it, they're likely both mysteries.