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Jen bidding farewell to Montreal

Me, refusing to abuse my feet a second longer

Along about the last day of vaca Jen and I enter a distinctly cranky phase.

We’re tired from the ten mile walks each day, as we explore a new city/area. The aching knees and hips. The feet which threaten divorce. Yes, before setting out on each day’s marathon, we’ve done our rehab-learned strengthening exercises. Sadly though, neither of us have become bionic. Nor have we been blessed with endless walking superpowers. *sigh*

In the last evening of our final off-leash day, we often throw together a less than healthy microwave meal because we’re just too damn exhausted to research another good/fun/interesting/unique dining option. OK, to be fair, the artichoke/jalapeño bites looked sinfully yummy (they were) and the mini spanakopita wedges were irresistible. Those IGA oatmeal cookies that we picked up for dessert? Perfect!

Generally, on the ultimate day of a vaca, we just want to sit at a cafe, drink wine and people watch. OK, that’s all we ever want to do at home—it's our normal state of being. Nevermind.

Jen and I, at this late R&R point, become obsessed by our catlessness. We comment, possibly overloud, on the astounding shortsightedness of the otherwise respectable hotel’s feline-free condition.

One of the things that struck us about Montreal was that everyone was SO nice. From chi chi gallery workers to the lunch counter dude who served us our quiche and merlot—all incredibly warm, smiling and so damn pleasant. This isn’t what we expect in large cities. Gruff is figured on. Nope, not to be found in the not yet frozen north. It was wonderful.  Especially in our less than lovely state of need-to-be-home crankitude.

And then we got to the airport check in counter where we found the one not-quite-ready-for-nice-time person; the only (?) rude, brusque Montrealer in existence. The clerk had clearly missed the affability memo which the rest of the Montreal folk had totally grokked.

Incredibly, Jen did NOT slice off the woman’s head (left her light saber at home, don’cha know) so we missed our closing chance at international incident creation. This was a good thing, right?

Boston at last, just after sunset.

Coco and The Amazing Bob met me at the door and Rocco was sitting in the bedroom door waiting for me. Cats and TAB. It’s good to be home.