counting down

"Oh, and you have to get a haircut."

"What do you mean, I have to get a haircut?! They'll screw it up and I'll look like a dork."

"It's shaggy. Get it cut."

"Geez, Mom, okay."

And the clothes are bought, and the nice slacks hemmed up, And, since a grownup is handling all the details about the party portion of the event, that's going swimmingly. Nevertheless, the list of Things to Do is still unfinished, though I did extract a promise from Nola yesterday that she would cease adding new things.

And Mom's here, along with her old friend B—. We spent the first part of this week with them in Whistler, then Nola and I nipped back home while they stayed on to revel in the peace and quiet of a ski resort in off-season. As we drove through town on our way out, we saw a bear on someone's front sidewalk with its head half in a planter, munching flowers. Peaceful serenity, you betcha.

I did not get a picture of the bear, but I did get a few of Lost Lake, the first day we were there:

and of the hundreds of mushrooms that are apparently in season:

It was just Nola and me on that day, as B— and Mom aren't big walkers. We missed the turnoff onto the path to the lake, it being completely unmarked (except by a "private property" sign) and ended up going quite a ways up a mountain before finding our way back. I spotted bear sign on the path we did follow, so did Nola, she never points those things out to me for some reason, so I have to look for myself ("Nola, poopy." "Mmm." "Nola, big poopy." "Yes, yes." "Nola, scary poopy." "Don't worry about it, they're all fattened up and looking to den." Right. Sure.) On the way back, we met up with a woman we'd seen going out, and talked about the unmarked turning. She said it was a bit of a concern, lots of out-of-towners get misdirected up there, since the berry crop had been sparse that year and all the bears were coming into town looking for food.

In short, the entire area is working alive with underfed large predators.

The next day, we all drove up past Pemberton toward D'Arcy to see the fall scenery. And mostly stayed in the car, thankyouverymuch, though we did stop at another lake to stretch our legs and listen to the quiet.

And I followed a Steller's Jay around the shore:

On the way back to Vancouver, we stopped to look at Brandywine Falls, and more mushrooms:

Since then it's just been one thing after another. "We need to get..." "Did you call...?" "Who's bringing the...?" I did manage to get my hair cut, though.

"I need a miniscule trim."

"Okay, so, you want three quarters of an inch off, then?"

There. That's hairdressers in two sentences.

But whether or not all the calls are made, or all the things fetched, we're getting married tomorrow and I really hope I don't screw up.