At this time of year, you do not go lawn bowling. You do not lie on the beach. You do not idle away the afternoon on the outdoor patio of some restaurant in the city.
You have to resort to other activities. More specifically, you have to "invent your own fun."
This occurred to the husband and me last weekend. The weather was distinctly November-like. Warmweather pursuits were not in the offing. As much as we would have liked to go for a picnic, we could not, since our sandwiches would have become soaked in the rain, and it would have been impossible to light a bonfire, let alone toast marshmallows.
I suggested a matinee.
"Hmm," said the husband. "You know, there's really nothing I want to see right now."
The husband suggested shopping.
"Hmm," I said. "You know, there's really nothing we need right now. Except maybe a quart of milk, and how long does it take to get that?"
The reality hit: we would have to "invent our own fun."
We sat at the kitchen table and looked at each other.
"Parcheesi?" I suggested.
"Nah," said the husband.
"We don't have a Parcheesi board. How about chess?"
I reminded him that we didn't have a chess board either. Besides, I said, even if we had a chess board, I did not know how to play chess. Then I told him he probably shouldn't recommend bridge either, because even though bridge does not require a board, it does require four people, and we did not happen to have four people sitting around in our kitchen.
It was 2 p.m.
At 2 p.m. in July or August, it occurred to us, we would be at the market in Ladner buying cobs of corn. We'd be cycling the dike to Boundary Bay. We'd be sitting on the neighbours' lawn, swigging back some Coronas.
"We have to invent our own fun," I reminded the husband.
"Yeah," he said.
We looked outside morosely, and noticed that it was, well, November. We peered over the fence, and noticed there were no neighbours in sight, and precious few Coronas.
In chillier climes - make that, Ontario - I suppose folks are better at "inventing their own fun." They slap on the snowshoes. They head to the curling rink. They build an outdoor rink.
But around here, there was no ice in sight, let alone snow.
There was just the usual stuff of November. Rain. And rain. And rain.
"You know," I said, "maybe we could do with more than a quart of milk. I think I need some lettuce. And maybe some peanut butter. And maybe some black patent shoes."
And with that, we invented our own little fun. And there's nothing more fun than the mall.
At 2 p.m. in July or August, it occurred to us, we would be at the market in Ladner buying cobs of corn. We'd be cycling the dike to Boundary Bay. We'd be sitting on the neighbours' lawn, swigging back some Coronas.
