Monday, May 22, 2006

Dulaan 1 Finished

It's a lovely, sunny holiday Monday, and time to regale the kids with my favorite Victoria Day long weekend song : "The Pits" by Buddy Wasisname and the Other Fellers. I did, in fact, go gravel pit camping once during my two years in Newfoundland and Labrador, although not on the May long weekend and not exactly by choice. I was in Cornerbrook for the summer of 1991, doing the Obstetrics portion of my residency, and decided on a whim to drive north to the tip of the province and have a look around for the weekend. (Funny, it's been a lot of years since I did an 8+ hour drive on the spur of the moment.) Fortuitously, I arrived at L'Anse Aux Meadows just as the Gaia was sailing into harbor at the end of her historic Atlantic crossing. She was a sight to behold (as were the host of icebergs lining the shore) and I had the wonderful experience of being able to go on board and look around. After touring the Viking settlement at L'Anse Aux Meadows, I thought I would look for a campground to stay the night. The gas gauge was reading close to empty, and this was when I discovered, to my horror and amazement, that ATM technology had not yet reached that part of the province. Being Sunday, the banks were closed, and I did not own a credit card (having decided that I was already far enough in debt with student loans.) After a hasty bit of scrabbling through my wallet and between the seat cushions of my little pickup, I came up with enough loose change to buy just enough gas to get home. (And I do mean "just" - the last bit of the trip was exciting, and not in a good way.) Having no money for lodging, I found a nice little gravel pit by the side of the highway, and slept in my truck. That was my first and last foray into that particular provincial pasttime.

On to the sweater. My DH read yesterday's post and professed complete amnesia with regard to his alleged input on the cuffs. (He also presented a somewhat convoluted rationale of why this did not, in fact, constitute yet another failure to listen to me.) It turns out that, having spent several years sealing himself into an immersion suit against the likelihood of ditching in the North Pacific, he is of the firm opinion that snug cuffs in inclement weather are a Good Thing. So I redid the cuffs, and I have to say, he was right.