Details, Details, Details

You know the expression, details, details, details. It’s often expressed with a slight eye roll and blase attitude. Well, I’ve been thinking about details lately and those slight nuances between people, countries, etc. Maybe it’s all the travel I’ve done this summer. Or maybe it’s related to my curiosity as a writer.

There was a time where I shrugged my shoulders at details believing they were unimportant. Besides, who cares? I could make those up. I was a writer after all. I could extrapolate and get away with it. I mean, you can’t experience everything and that research takes time! Time away from writing.

Now I think differently. The correct detail in the right place can bring a whole scene to a truth that can drive at the reader. It can make something really work. Or more importantly, not work. For example, mentioning baby wipes in your 1940s novel when they weren’t invented until the 1970s. Yeah, that’s just being lazy and will get your ass kicked.

That’s right. Time travel, baby! Yeah!

A week ago we went to Disney World. Having been to Disneyland, I figured I could extrapolate what Disney World would be like. And then I went. Ha! There is that false sense of ‘I can imagine anything’ popping up.

I couldn’t extrapolate the details of Disney World, Florida, or even several, specific travel details (even though I usually step foot in the US at least once a year). Even the way Disney theme parks have evolved in the past 20 years made my detail sensor step back and say, “Well, now. We’d better take an extra look at this.”

The small details like the way sweat beaded up on the insides of my wrists at 5:30 at night while dining outdoors (I didn’t even know my wrists could do that), the way rules for passenger conduct in buses and airplanes, etc, in the US are emphasized first and foremost that this is a law! What if I had written a story about a gal who flew to Florida in August and she didn’t even sweat after 3PM? What if she had checked her bags WITHOUT charge for her flight on United Airlines? Oh, how that would have made American readers howl at my naivety/stupidity/lack of knowledge. Kind of like that check-in agent come to think of it….

And most of all, I would not have realized just what a flirt Mickey and Minnie are! My goodness. No wonder everyone loves them, they are a complete hoot.

I’m thinking I might set my next novel in Italy and what I’ve learned from this latest trip is that I’d better go immerse myself in the details of Italy. What do you think?

The Road Was There!

Note: I would like to mention first off that I am creating rhis post using A cell phone application and there are some significant flaws likw predictive text, Ameeican spelling and the fact thT after typing fifteen words the twxt turns white and I can’t se a thing. Is a btike squatting in the dark. You just hope to heck that wRm feing on your toes isn’t pe.

In my last post I worried that our little Trixie the Mighty Matrix might have to fly, swim, or perform some 4×4 type behavior. the good new is that she did not Other than a little time sharing our lanes with oncoming trFfic, it was all good. whew!

if you are curious Bout our progress in our multiple-kilometer trip, you can follow me on Twiter. yep, that’s right, I am tweet gummy way a Ross four provinces. you’ve fgot too e technology.

My Devious Plan

My devious plan is working.

With airfares on the rise it is becoming a bit out our reach to fly out to my grandma’s cottage this summer. Thus my devious plan: drive.

See, I started small a few months ago. I suggested we fly to Ontario (4 hour flight) and then borrow Dad’s Ontario van and drive from there to Nova Scotia (30 or so hours) where we could hang out and explore for a few weeks and then drive back to Ontario, bum around for a bit longer and then fly back. Ta-da summer over and lots of adventures under our belts. A little balking at that plan because Ontario to Nova Scotia is quite a long drive.

Then I moved to a slightly bigger plan (and more unrealistic plan) around Christmas time. How about fly to Ontario, then drive to FRANCE! (There is a little island still belonging to France off the coast of Newfoundland.) Come on, there is even a ferry (about a 40 hour drive, plus ferry time) so you don’t have to drive the WHOLE way. No problem. Buckle up, let’s go. (No takers on that one even though I pulled out the globe and showed them how short a distance it really was and waxed on about how cool it would be to go to France for the summer.)

Now the idea of driving to Ontario (35 hours or so) doesn’t seem so bad. It is, in fact, quite reasonable.

To make it even cheaper we could tent! Fun adventure! Well, actually I had to work on that one a bit. I promised my hubby a Thule so we’d have lots of room in the economy-mobile. Plus, I promised to bring an air mattress to sleep on. And that I would set up the tent. And blow up the mattress. And find the campgrounds. And plan the food. And maintain the car (actually that one is still up my sleeve). And  promised we could stay in a hotel every other night. It would be so much fun!

Now, I’m trying to convince my mom to come too. Come on mom. Lots of coffee! And fun. And tacky monuments. You know you wanna…

(We’ll just sort of gloss over the fact that my five-year-old has a meltdown if we have to drive farther than 20 minutes in one day.)

Coming Home

When I travel, I always dream about finding a place to buy there. Especially if we are on the waterfront. To be able to push our canoe into the water for an early morning paddle. Swimming anytime. <sigh>

In fact, as the small town that we currently resides turns more frantic, more ‘consume, consume, consume’, we find ourselves seriously considering the idea of selling our house and using the equity to buy and live in a truck and camper for a year as we putter across this great big country, searching for a new laid back town that has the Earth in its heart. But, I am getting ahead of myself. This blog entry is about our house. And how much I love our house.

So, I seem to love where I am staying, and then I come home. And I find that I DO love where we live. (I mean, nowhere is perfect, but this is pretty darn close.) I love our house. I love its smell. I love the fact that everything is ours and works the way we want it to. It is our own little sanctuary and it is home. And I never really realized how much I love our new house. Doors open and close. There is lots of light. There is a shower. I find myself at 31, spoiled. I don’t want to go back to doors and windows that don’t open and close properly. It’s strange but that seems to be a big thing in my world. I am already tired of doors and windows and cabinets that don’t work properly. I wonder why? I am generally pretty good at roughing it. I mean, at the cottage, I only had an actual soap down three or so times in ten days. (Swimming everyday helps.) Mouse droppings everywhere and spiders crawling around doesn’t faze me.

So, am I confused about where I want to live? Yes. Have I felt like I am at a cross-roads my whole life? Yes. Right now, I think we need to live here another year, maybe two before we adventure away. The timing isn’t right to move. And that is all I know.

Side thought: Vanilla Oreos dipped in green tea sounds weird, but totally rocks.

What I am a sucker for: Ice cream on sale.