Mexico Monday: The whoa-it's-winter, let's leave edition
In which we escape the present by returning to 1979
Dear everyone,
Um, WINTER. I have not spent a winter in the northwest since the dawn of time. And now I understand why. It’s enough to drive a person to drink. Lots of hot beverages, that is. It makes you stuff your face with butter, cheese, and associated fats before you crawl into bed and sleep for 12 hours or until springtime, whichever comes first.
At least Millie she’s good with sleeping for 12 hours. Or napping whenever you want. Or schlepping up a mountain in frigid wintertime temps if that’s what you decided to do because you’re depressed after seeing The Brutalist and didn’t sleep well because you drank coffee to stay awake for that movie, wherein you got TORTURED for 3 1/2 hours for very little reward (as if the headlines weren’t torture enough), so you think a little exercise might help.
Once upon a time, I was all about the winter exercise! Why, I even knew how to ski! I was a veritable snow bunny. One who whooshed around in the silent woods and stayed in mountain cabins warmed by wood stoves and destroyed my ACL by crashing into trees.
The skis are in my closet - unused for seven years! Part of me that wants to strap them on again and “reintegrate” (yo, Severance) and part of me just wants to hop back on the next plane to Mexico.
I seem to be going down memory lane today. Maybe that’s because the present - on a global level - is pretty depressing right now. Therefore, I’m not going to bore you with my analyses of the macroeconomics of trade tariffs, as I normally might, or how deplorable the conditions at Guantanamo might be when we deport Trump there.
Instead I present to you “Blast from the past: Europe 1979” In which 11-year-old “Becky” writes charmingly, and at times hilariously — also in very neat, legible handwriting! - about her family’s trip to Europe.
Blast from the past: Europe, 1979
July 29, 1979
Well, we are in England now finally but after a horrible plane trip. First of all, we were delayed about an hour and a half becase they had to fix the engine. Then when we stopped in Calgary we were delayed for about an hour. But the worst of it was we were smack-dab in the middle of the smokers’ section and coughing and choking didn’t spell fun to me.
Ed note: O-M-G.
August 1, 1979
…Dad was in a bad mood today. I can’t understand why he gets so mad at me. Never, of course, at Erica. I wonder if Erica is his favorite like he always says…
Ed note: Yes she was. (Well, at least according to Erica).
August 9, 1979
…I got a beautiful new sweater today which I love! But of course, Erica had to get the same one. It seems as if Erica and I always have to get the same clothes. I hate it.
We met some American people in the sweater store today and the boy about my age, maybe a bit older came over and said Hi to me! I didn’t know he was talking to me at first then Mom looked at me so I mumbled Hi. He was pretty nice. It was great to hear an American kid talk to me!!! I hope I have a boyfriend when I get older.
Ed note: I would avoid boyfriends if I were you.
Finally, a snapshot of August 29, 1979, rendered in this artistic drawing.
Ah yes, those halcyon days of having an ice cream in the afternoon and chocolate “gateou” at dinner (it’s “gâteau,” you fool!), without giving a second thought to my waistline.
And that’s it from me today everyone. BYE.
xo
Rebecca
We call it cake where I come from.
Those journal entries and drawings reminded me of similar ones I did as a kid (even traveling to England, but you remember your trip much better) in 1976! I would have been 11 then, as you were in 1979! Yes, I remember how neat my writing looked, too.