High Tea & Using Your Wife As A Living Shield

*** continued from previous post ***

We spent the remainder of the afternoon dozing and talking. Watching the moose, the birds, one very, very curious chipmunk, and generally enjoying the heck out of the day. By the time 'High Tea' arrived, we were ready to get out of our room and enter back into the world of the living for a bit.

As we readied ourselves I asked your mom what exactly was 'High Tea', and how did it differ from 'Low-Tea', or 'Middle-Tea'.

Mom paused putting on her semi-dry socks. "I have no idea. I'm not even sure what 'High Tea' is exactly." She pulled damp cotton up her ankle and winced. "I guess we'll just have to find out."

I walked to the mirror and looked at myself in my jeans, T-Shirt, and riding boots. "What if we're under dressed? I mean, what if we are supposed to be in formal wear? I didn't bring my tux you know."

"I'm pretty sure," Mom said, "that a Lodge catering to hikers in the Canadian Rockies would not require formal wear for High Tea."

"Sweetie. This is Canada, land of myth and legend. It's entirely possible that all men are required to hike in full formal wear."

"And the women?" Mom asked.

"Floor-length gowns, high-heels and tiaras."

"I'm no expert," Mom said, "But I'm pretty sure that's not the case."

"Hmmm. . . ." I looked about the room. "You don't have any scissors, do you?"

"I'm not going to even ask. But the answer is 'no'. I don't have any scissors."

”Bummer. I could have made a stunning leather sport coat from the couch."

"You're dressed fine. Let's go," she said and walked to the door.

Guess what? Yep. Still raining. And as an added treat I was now paranoid about walking the 20 feet to the Lodge door lest I be accosted, and molest-a-pated, by rogue moose fanny. I opened the door and peeked through the crack, (Ha! Pun intended!) looking right and left. Once I assured myself the coast was clear, I pushed your mom through the opening and used her as a shield against anything that might be skulking about. It was then that I noticed something for the first time. Your mom sighs a lot and rolls her eyes more than a normal person. I believe I shall schedule her an appointment with a neurologist when we get home. That just ain't right.


*** the journey continues ***