Guilts

I need to clarify some thing with all of you. My blog is meant to inform and hopefully entertain, but it is not meant as a vehicle to instil guilt or provoke others to take responsibility for us. Since my last blog, we have been overwhelmed by people's responses: Joan and Jim offered us the Beaver house on their property; Kevin and Marguerite have offered us their condo at Sun Peaks. My sister has offered us to stay upstairs with them, Diane, has found us a basement suite to rent, Chris and Mary have offered us an opportunity to house sit for them while they are in Australia. Marlene and Bruce have offered us a room at their place, so has Ron. Possibly others have offered us lodging as well. My sister, Linda has cried about our plight and my dad shakes his head. Lisa yelled at us to stop the Sri Lanka process and look elsewhere for volunteer work. We so value our friends and family for their support. Thank you, thank you.

But, just to set the record straight; we do have control over this process. We can stop this volunteer process with CUSO whenever we want. We are not really homeless; we have means, if you know what I mean. Our current chaos is not meant to create chaos for any of our family, friends or readers. You are not responsible for our decisions. All we ask is that you just sit back and enjoy (vicariously) our ride. Just because this process currently feels like a ride into Hades, doesn't mean we want to get off the trolley. We enjoy the thrill that comes when the cart goes downhill.

I mean, look at it objectively. We get to live at the lake for a few weeks. Picture this: Bill and Wendy bundled in warm fleeces reading our Kindles by camp firelight; sipping dark hot Costa Rican coffee at dawn whilst blowing steam across the coffee mugs into the cooling fall air; watching the Canadian geese flock and the leaves on the trees turn from green to yellow. What could be more peaceful and renewing? We will snuggle up like bugs in a rug under the comforters at night. What romance! Oh yes, we also don't have to go to work in the mornings. What could be more liberating? Now, does that bring a new perspective to the situation?

There, that settles that.

We sold our motorbike. Sigh. Lamenting the loss, we are amazed at how much we actually enjoyed riding a motorcycle, once we actually learned how to ride it. We miss the wind in our hair, the freedom, the rides out along Barnhartvale Rd. and along Westsyde Rd. out to McLure Ferry and back along the Yellowhead Highway. Bill even took it once to the Kelowna Passport Office. We sold the bike on Sunday because we thought we were leaving in September and we had a buyer that was most anxious to purchase it immediately for the same reason we had purchased the bike in the first place; we needed something to practice on. Motorbike training is not easy, as I have described in earlier blogs.

However, since selling our little Honda Bike, Bill is now fantasizing about himself purchasing and riding a Harley Davidson when we return from Sri Lanka. He visualizes himself astride a black beast, dripping in chrome and sporting black leather saddlebags. In his dream, he dons a dew rag and covers it with a black beanie. In his visualization, he can't decide if he will wear jeans or black leather chaps, but leans toward the chaps. He will wear a white t-shirt with the sleeve rolled up exposing his tat. Oh, did you not know that Bill has a tat?

Actually, it is on his right bicep and the tattoo has shrunk in size corresponding to the diminishing size of his bicep and now the tattoo is an obscure, illegible blue ink blot that may actually have the name Rosie imbedded in those blue skin cells, for all I know.

Yes, we miss the bike.

Guilts