Jun. 20th, 2012

taennyn: (fruits of the harvest)
Well, that took me a week.

In my defense, I spent the weekend in Kamloops meeting relations. Noooot exactly the most conducive environment to bounce sparks off my frontal lobes, especially when I'm being sniffed over as someone's wife when most of them hadn't even met me as the girlfriend. It seems to have gone well? I think?

Anyway. The plan for our big wedding celebration is May long weekend of next year (the weekend before Memorial Day, for the Americans in the audience, Victoria Day weekend for the Canadians). We do not yet have a locale nailed down, but the weather tends to be less snotty over in Kamloops than in Vancouver. Options thus far are a ski lodge over that way, but we need to do some research into sleeping accommodations for everyone. I suppose we might also be able to strike some sort of deal with the Cypress guys, if the snow's backed off enough that they're in the process of closing down for the year around then. *ponderface*

Back to Kamloops, and the weekend.

Between us, we only have one living grandparent (his mother's dad; mine all went before I was nineteen), and half the reason we went was so I could meet him.

Nice gentleman, if slightly reserved. Happy about some plans, and fretting about his raspberries and who was going to pick them when they came ripe. I resisted the desire to admit to my inclinations re: said fruit. It's hard to intone 'There will be no survivors' when there's that much of a generational and cultural gap, y'know? >.>

In addition to the grandfather, I increased my aunt count and cousin counts by one each, and the once-removed's by two (the aunt was from the side with seven girls and two boys, everyone else was a Doyle. And male. I may be doomed to sons).

The first once-removed I met when we wandered into a shop-garage after meeting one of the uncles at his local pub and discovered a small horde of young men fixing a dirtbike. He was twenty three, eldest of the eldest of the second-born Doyle.
The second once-removed I met when we went by the cousin's place after meeting him at his local gaming space*, to meet his wife, kid, the sheddingest chihuahua who ever shed, and the 3/4 cane corso 1/4 boxer mix of 'oh god, love meeeeee'. This kid is the eldest of the secondborn of the secondborn. Also seven.

There is no way I'm going to be able to guess the degree of relation in the Wall of Doyles come next year by age. Yeesh.

(*: Ten minutes after introductions were made and we'd been watching miniature armies turn into tiny smoking craters while chatting, the cousin remembered that he was mad at Zach for not bandying about the wedding. Direct quote: "Wait, I'm still mad at you!")

Unsurprisingly, the cane corso mix responded to Zach's 'omg you have a giant head! I LOVE giant headed dogs!' and my 'Aww, lookit your stub wave when we talk about you!' with all the demands for pettings. Sometimes by putting his head adoringly between my thighs so I could scritch his ears more.

My god, the jowls.

Between the Jowls of Adoration and the chihuahua deciding to cuddledammit (she was summarily removed from my lap twice before I gave in and invited her up), I seriously need to wash the jeans and shirt I was wearing that afternoon.

I hadn't spent any time in Kamloops previously. The closest I'd gotten was sort of skirting near it when we went to a wedding in Kelowna a couple years ago (high summer in the BC Interior: crispy).

Visually speaking, it's kind of like Monroe and Albuquerque had a mutant baby. All scrubby sagebrushy hills--with posted 'bighorn sheep hang out here' warnings in a couple of places--and then you get down towards the river and everything goes all green. Saw a few houses with fifty year old willow trees eating their yards, a few others with gardens.

Thus far, my conclusion is 'interesting to visit, but I don't think I want to live here'.

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