Sylvia's Journal

As the deadline approaches for using vacation days that I stand to lose – we can only bring forward a certain amount – it becomes increasingly important to find ways to use them; thus yesterday was made into a vacation day, as a prelude to our weekend on the Cape.

The day started with a massage during which Abi kept trying to undo or at least soften the muscle mess around my injured shoulder and upper arm. Since everything is connected to everything else, the tightness extends in all directions. Some of the deep tissue massage was painful but I come from a culture where pain means something is being gained. I hope so.

Axel was next in line for a massage – different body parts, different causes – also with muscle messes and pain for gain. While Axel was being massaged I set up various appointments with doctors that all need to happen in a short period of time, carefully arranged around trips. This is becoming increasingly difficult to accomplish.

Hours later than we had planned we sat off heading south towards Cape Cod for a weekend with Alison in her little North Truro hideaway. On the way we stopped to see Uncle Charles who is only months away from his 100th birthday. He fell, broke his hip (or the other way around) and is now being rehabbed in an inn-like place near his home. His niece Ann is looking after him and keeping the space filled with so many stories that they left me breathless. I tried to reconstitute Axel’s maternal family tree in my head – Sita once drew it on a paper napkin during lunch with Charles about a year ago – but failed, so I simply listened and gave up trying to figure out who goes where on the chart. Although Ann is direct first cousin of Axel, she is already a great grandmother several times over and has produced three more generations against our single one.

Two hours later we left the place, just when a long line of the really old people (as opposed to the young old and the medium old) where lining up to take their seat in the dining room downstairs – a parade of wheelchairs, walkers, walking sticks, grey (or no) hair and rounded backs, enthusiastically received by the most jovial and chipper wait staff. We were told the food was actually quite good. The whole experience stood in sharp contrast with Axel’s rehab experience in Salem.

Less than 2 hours later we pulled up at Alison’s second floor cottage in North Truro and were enthusiastically greeted by dog Abby who instantly laid her favorite toys at Axel’s feet. Alison told us that this is a sign of bonding that’s not for everyone. Abby is like a toddler – never tired of doing the same thing over and over. Like a toddler she has her basket of toys. Unlike a toddler it includes a cow’s hoof – which she chewed on Axel’s shoe – apparently also a sign of affection.

Alison had cooked us a dinner (elegant and easy) that she had plucked off a daytime TV show while stuffing hundreds of packets of condoms, lube and breath mints for the local HIV/AIDS action committee’s outreach campaign. I had never heard of the show and its hostess, the peppy Ms. Rachel Ray. But Axel knew about her. This made me a bit suspicious about what he does while I am out at work earning money (he denied the charge and had some explanation that I have now forgotten but sounded convincing at the time).

And now our brief holiday on the Cape has started. Unfortunately it is still drizzling outside, against all predictions. I have learned that the hurricane season has started two days before its scheduled beginning on June 1. It drizzles when you are on the far outer edges, which is good for our newly planted flowers and crops but not for people who are on vacation.