Don’t get too excited.

I may not be able to explain all that much about that last bit of silliness on my part,  but it does deserve at least a word or two.  

After posting about our stop over in Spittal,  we struck a committee and decided that there was a bit too much information to be shared on the very public internet,  so I took the post down.  Sucks, I know.  But sometimes that has to happen. 

I also noticed that I used the word “interruption” twice within the span of no more than about fifty lines of text.  That can’t be good.

For anyone who had been able to take a peek before I reached out to pluck that information from the ether,  you may have noticed that I was in a bit of a quandary as to just how much I should include that isn’t “all about me”, and well, that should have been my first clue. 

Bit of a shallow learning curve I’m afraid, and I probably should stick to my first instincts when it comes to these sort of dilemmas.

 

Friday afternoon at around four I got a phone call from Slovenia,  and it was our intrepid travellers,  calling to see if I could get them booked on their flight on Saturday and print out their boarding passes.   Easily enough done if I have e-ticket numbers,  and I did my best to get them seated together if at all possible.   We’ve only heard back that they did indeed arrive at their destination,  so there was no mention of how well I did in the seating department.  They had seats and they weren’t scattered all over the plane.  That was the important part.

For the uninitiated,  if you can possibly get online at the beginning of the 24 hour window that is allowed by most airlines before your flight and print off your boarding pass,  you’re going to have a better selection of seats,  unless of course you fly first class, but even then you can choose your seats.  There are good and bad seats to be had in steerage,  so it’s good to get on line early.   Of course,  coming back from a trip,  one rarely has the opportunity to call up Dad and ask if he’ll sort that out for you,  unless your Dad just happens to live where you are visiting and has a printer handy.   One of the better ways to see Europe of course,  is to simply go visit your parents. 

 

So the gang got back here to Wienerland somewhat late on Friday night,   and were off again on Saturday to the airport for the trip home to Toronto.

I have to be judicious here with my photo selection,  since Travelling Companion is in the others that I took,  and we all know what kind of difficulties that presents if I put her ‘on the line’.

The departure of our company probably explains why T.C. and I were in a bit of a funk on Sunday,  which is quite often the case when visitors leave again after an enjoyable time.  We didn’t say much,  we didn’t do much,  and we didn’t go anywhere.

We do have another set of guests arriving in a few weeks,  so hopefully the fabulous weather that we’ve been having tries to stick around.  We once again broke a few records this summer in terms of days of sunshine,  as well as high temperatures.   I must say,  I will miss the weather of Lower Austria.

 

The opportunities for visits are starting to diminish,  and I’m about to spill the beans here as to why.   Should there be a drum roll or something?

Travelling Companion got the word on Friday that the mighty forces at the Company That Cannot Be Named have indeed hired someone to replace her.   Hazzah!

Yes kids,  it’s true. 

Now,  just hold on there.   There’s that “don’t fire until you see the whites of their eyes”?   Well, I’m kind of like that when it comes to these sort of upcoming events.  I’m not going to get too excited until the movers have been called and they’ve sent a rep over to scope out what needs to get packed.   I’m funny that way.  We already know that Travelling Companion has to stick around long enough to make sure there is a successful transition over to this new person,  as well as do a “year end”.   The “year end” is well,  at the end of the year?   So not too darned much is going to be taking place until then.   Besides,  with the exception of taking pictures down off the walls and plugging the holes,  I was ready to move out within a couple days after we moved in,  so it’s not like I need to get all worked up about gettin’ outta Dodge.   And in case I need to point it out,  we don’t do the packing.  We’re actually not allowed to.  That simplifies things immensely.  We just have to figure out what to do with our 220 volt gadgets.

I still want to go home for Christmas though.   There was a suggestion made that we could just hang around here again over the holidays,  but I really didn’t think I wanted to do that.  It’s been over a year at this point since we stepped onto Canadian soil,  and I wouldn’t mind catching up with a few folks that I haven’t seen in that time. 

Besides,  we told them all on Saturday,  “See you at Christmas!”   How do you undo that one? 

 

I realise that it’s a hard concept to grasp that a person living in a city like Vienna could possibly want to leave,  and there was a time perhaps some 30 years ago,  when I might have wished to put down roots somewhere else, but that ship has sailed.  Those roots are firmly intact back home.   And by “back home”, I mean Ontario,  not Nova Scotia.   My apologies to all my fellow “Bluenosers”,  but Nova Scotia hasn’t been “home” since about 1967,   even though any time we go back for a visit,  one of my relatives invariably asks,  “So how long are ya home for?”   

I don’t bother correcting them.   I gave up on that a long time ago.   Anyone from the East Coast is always going “down home” if they’re headed back in that direction at any point in their life.  It’s just a fact.

 

So there’s a quiet bit of news to chew on.   Meanwhile,  life goes on here in Wienerland.

 

Keep it between the ditches,  and thanks for stopping by.

 

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