Me and my little monster. Or am I the little monster?

In my previous post, I neglected to mention that I celebrated my 53rd birthday earlier this week. Usually on my birthday I write an attention-seeking post where I say something like: “Look at me! I’m still alive!” I decided to scratch that this year. Too repetitive.

But I have to mention that today’s post is my 400th. Along with a blogging milestone, I normally thank you for indulging my drivel for so long, blah blah blah, but I scratched that too. You know how I feel about you.

Since this is my 400th post, I want it to be a good one, one you’ll remember, one that will make you think and maybe even provoke heated discussion over dinner tonight.

Oh, that’s much too much pressure. Forget it.

Instead, I’ll tell you why J. and I are such great travel partners. We have always had a great time together on vacations. You’d think it was because we like many of the same things, and that’s part of it. We both enjoy wandering the streets, appreciating the architecture, and getting away from the tourists when we can. We want to learn about the local culture and indulge in the local cuisine, although J. tries a little too hard to fit in. It’s no wonder people respond to her in English when she tries to speak their language.

There are other ways that we are fundamentally different travellers. You won’t be surprised to learn that she is the adult and I am the child. I don’t mind yet another boring museum filled with paintings by the masters as long as I get to stop in the café for a snack at some point. Today we visited a castle, and while J. enjoyed the auditory tour of the royal home, I couldn’t wait to get to the apple-strudel-making demo complete with, you guessed it, a piece of freshly baked apple strudel. Then I, of course, directed us to the outdoor maze. (Without J., I’d be sleeping among the bushes.)

And then there is Grover. I’ve taken him with us on vacation for years, to London and Italy, to New York City and Salt Spring Island, and now to Vienna and Prague. While J. spends the day immersing herself in her surroundings, I am constantly thinking of the perfect photo opportunity for my little blue monster. I am truly like a small child, begging her parent relentlessly for something she wants. “Please, J., can’t we take a picture of Grover here? How about here?”

Just like the parent of a small child, J. has learned that if she relents every so often and takes a picture of Grover, I will put him back in my pocket for a while and we can get on with whatever we’re doing. She knows he’ll come out again at some point, but at least she’ll have a short reprieve. She may be trying to spare me the odd looks I receive when people see me trying to position my muppet into the photo. Or at least I hope that’s why they’re looking at me oddly. Alternatively, it’s because I have something between my teeth, or my fly is undone, again.