This exercise in creating a more interesting story for me and my family has delivered some wonderful memories so far.
But there are always exceptions to the rule.
I accompanied Alexis and her class to the Oregon Coast today. On the single wettest June day in all of Oregon’s recorded history. ALL HISTORY! We went to Ecola Park and to Haystack Rock, where the rain was slanted sideways and smacking into our faces like needles. After an hour at Ecola, we slogged into the bus absolutely soaked to the bone and headed out to continue the “fun” at Haystack Rock, where the rain was falling even harder than before. Alas, the teachers were more than determined. We were going to make the most of the 1.5 hour trip to the coast so, damnit, we were going to stay at Haystack Rock for as long as they planned.
Then again, it might have been because they told the bus drivers take their lunch break. Oh yes, and to take the buses with them. Which left us … wet. Soaking wet. I’ll-never-get-dry-again wet. And very much without shelter.
I can honestly say I’ve never been that cold or miserable in my life – circumstances only exacerbated by the fact that I’d made sure Lex had a change of clothes. But me? Uh, whoops.
I’ve now been in bed since 7pm. I soaked in a tub for an hour to warm up, which I did, and then I went past it to the point that I now feel like I have a fever and my whole body aches. I just managed to take the cold I already had, and kick it up a notch.
Yeah, making memories. It’s not always what it’s cracked up to be. Fortunately, my daughter will likely have a very different memory. Sure, she’ll probably remember the rain and the cold. But most of all, she’ll remember that I was there.