Wes and I decided that last weekend would be a good weekend for adventures, so we had them. Aidan and I started things off right by plundering Half Price Books’s 20% off sale (Half Price Books is a local used bookstore). We bought twenty books and a couple movies for $30, not bad, huh?

Then, I took Aidan to the off-leash dog park. You haven’t lived until you’ve seen a friendly black Great Dane wander over to your toddler and give him a kiss. I have to admire my son’s chutzpah, to stand there mouth open for a kiss while a horse of a dog licks him. Fearless, that one.

On Saturday we took Aidan to the water so he could throws rocks into the lake and chase ducks and seagulls. Of course, I neglected to dress him for the occasion so he had no choice but to stand on the shore and only look at the water. Apparently packing sandals for a kid who’s going to the beach is just too much to ask of me.

On Sunday we skirted Seattle Center (to avoid Bumbershoot crowds) and explored Pioneer Square. I love Pioneer Square. It’s kinda seedy in some places, and definitely not somewhere I’d ever want to be alone at night, but during the day it makes for marvelous exploration. There are alleys galore, and that’s something that suits me right down to my toes.

You see, I love alleys. I have a preoccupation with them, actually. I’d probably get very, very distracted if I ever lived in New York. For me, each alley is a story, and I’m always looking for that story.

For example, we finished our walk down by the pier and turned up one street too early, so we cut across an alley to get back to the street we’d parked on. In that alley was an old door that said “Seattle Steam Corporation.” Weird, right? There was a huge old smokestack coming out of the top of the building, and a weathered yellow sign to the right of the front door that read, “Fallout Shelter.”

Shoot, that story practically writes itself.

Of course, this weekend wasn’t all fallout shelters and friendly Great Danes. There was a crazy homeless guy walking down the same street as us screaming profanities, and an unfortunate nap in the car that resulted in an apoplectic toddler. I think I’m going to blame the crazy homeless guy for that too.

As I said, it was a good weekend for adventures. We might have done too good a job at having them though, because I’m finding it more difficult than usual to focus on getting my stuff done today. Despite what my lazy brain is telling me, I know I will not, in fact, be more productive if I watch a few episodes of Mad Men while Aidan naps.

Oh, shucks. It looks like Don Draper disagrees.

There are times when three days can seem like an eternity. When you’re waiting for the results of a biopsy, let’s say, or maybe that’s how long it takes you to find food whilst foraging in the wilderness.

At other times, three days will fly by and you’ll come out the other end wondering why these wormholes keep happening to you all while those same wormholes wonder why you keep happening to them.

Way back at the beginning of July, Wes and I scheduled a getaway weekend to Victoria, BC. This was to be our first trip away from Aidan and, as such, we decided to make it three days. Three days sounded like enough time to relax while not enough time to reduce me to pitiful, babyless tears. We scheduled. We waited. And then we left.

Now that I’m back, I laugh at the Erika and Wes of a month and a half ago. Fools! Three days is a pittance! You guys can go away for longer than that! Three days will whiz by and by the time you get back your kid will have decided he likes his grandma better anyway so just stay an extra day! You might as well!

My son’s betrayal aside, we had a marvelous time. Canadians really are the nicest people. Maybe that’s just because the ones we talked to were in the service/hospitality business and were paid to be nice, but I don’t think so. My verdict is in: I like Canadians.

One of the things we did was a wine tour of the Cowichan Valley. If you like white wines, the Cowichan Valley is the Promised Land for you. All the Pinot Gris your liver can stand, and not a few other kinds as well you’re unlikely to find at a grocery store (which is where I normally buy my wine).

An added bonus of doing a wine tour is a byproduct of having little class. You see, you’re supposed to spit your wine out at the tastings into these little buckets they provide. Because it’d be déclassé to get a buzz going at a wine tasting. But no one spits out the wine, and by the end of the tour everyone’s having a real good time. Except the driver. Because drunk driving isn’t fun for anyone.

For me, though, the highlight of our trip was riding mopeds around the city. I have a lingering mistrust of motorcycles and Wes reckoned the time was nigh for me to just get over it already. We rented two mopeds, I realized I had no idea how to turn when I was halfway across an intersection, I almost got run over by an inattentive elderly woman, and we somehow made it all throughout the city in one piece.

We even did that thing where we sat next to each other at a red light and chatted. Do you ever see motorcycle drivers do that? Don’t you ever wish you knew what they were talking about?

I have a pretty good guess. They’re probably talking about how much their butts hurt after riding on juddering motorcycles for a few hours.

Now that this trip is in the past, we have no plans from here to forever. That means I’m back to regular blogging, back to editing and revising my novel, and, as soon as this accursed boot is off my foot, back to exercising!

Diversions are fun, but now I’m rested and ready to dive back in. With exceptionally long blog posts, apparently. And a pantry full of wine!

Have you ever been so excited you started fidgeting just a little bit? And then felt silly because the thing you’re all excited about is still a month away and so now you’re all fidgety for no reason? But you’re still so excited you don’t care as much as you should?

And thus ends my tribute to the hard-working question mark.

The reason I’m so excited is because Wes and I are packing up the baby and some clothes and heading out for a family vacation next week. Man sakes alive, it’ll be a good time. Ping pong (I am a ping pong ninja), reading outside in comfy chairs while soaking up sorely-needed sunshine, swimming, eating, and relaxing. It’s going to be legen-wait for it-dary.

And then, AND THEN, we leave next month to go to Victoria. Just the two of us. As in, Aidan gets to hang out with his grandparents all weekend while Wes and I escape. Things I am looking forward to most about the first vacation I’ve taken with just my husband in over three years:

• Eating meals for three days in a row without anyone screaming at me/demanding things from me.
• Sleeping in every morning.
• Being able to pay attention to my husband without also paying attention to a busy toddler.

Things I’m dreading just a little:

• How much I’m going to miss Aidan’s little face and kisses and hugs. I give me about 24 hours before I start missing him.
• How long it’ll take him to warm back up to me after we get home. Maybe it’ll be an instantaneous, joyful homecoming. But maybe he’ll have forgotten me already. Time will tell.

Either way, this trip will be a good thing. Wes and I could both use some down time, and I’m really looking forward to missing my son, if that makes any sense. Absence makes your heart a transponder, or somesuch.