1: Cram four adults (two happy, two grumbling) into what passes for a mid-sized cab and go to Walmart.
2: Walk up and down the beach until Mike’s feet are a lovely shade of tomato red and my own ankles are kind of rashy from the sand.
3: Try to buy knitting needles. Find some in a fabric store and try to communicate that you don’t want 3mm needles, you want 5.5mm needles. Forget about asking for circulars. Wonder how knitting needles can smell so rancid and leave them out overnight to air. Pat yourself on the back that you only paid $1.75 for them so if they continue to smell you won’t feel bad abandoning them here.
4: Wash out your undermentionables in the kitchen sink because a) it’s really expensive to do laundry here, and b) the bathroom sink, while very decorative and modern, doesn’t actually have a plug. Bleach the kitchen sink after because apparently some people are squeamish.
5: Tour (repeatedly) the model suites on the beach of the all the different timeshare options you could buy if only you thought timeshare wasn’t the world’s biggest stupid real estate idea. Envy the guy who thought of it in the first place.
6: Decide the world really doesn’t care if you appear in public in a bikini. You are not the thinnest person at the pool not are you the largest person on the beach. In the long run, no-one cares.
7: Email and text your son back north and panic when he doesn’t reply. Call him on the phone and listen to his sad story about throwing a shirt in the dryer with a pen in the pocket. Give telephone support for ink removal from the inside of the dryer.
8: Knit a big thick cowl on the beach. Imagine wearing it in a snowstorm. Have another margarita and slap on some more sunscreen. Contemplate surrealism.
Under Sask Skies 