What NOT To Do Prior To Going On Vacation

Please pay close attention to this advice on what NOT to do prior to going on vacation. I beg of you. It could save you a great deal of pain and untold angst. Because I didn’t pay attention, I very nearly missed out on the gem that is Salzburg. Oh, how very Just TypiKel.

What NOT To Do Prior To Going On Vacation

The joyous planning for this four week European holiday began with the arrival of an invitation for the three of us to a July wedding in Germany. The son of very good friends of ours was marrying his German bride on an estate just outside of Mosbach, a town situated just between Heidelberg and Heilbronn. With my daughter already in Europe and my son planning to visit nearby Budapest, it was the perfect opportunity for us to meet up for the first time since Christmas. We’d be together for an entire week before my son had to return to Canada.

I was so excited as the months flew by and the reunion grew ever closer.

But then with just eight days prior to my departure, I made a fatal decision. I decided to do a spot of gardening. I began on the side of the house, a private area that sees little traffic so it had been woefully neglected and the murderous shoots of the Morning Glory were embarrassingly thick. These voracious, perky plants were threatening to blanket and smother not only the abandoned dog crate and superfluous garden chairs but also our burgeoning peach tree. Previous experience had taught me that the MG are very satisfactory when it comes to their removal however. You tug on them and they pull away nicely, unspooling into lovely long strands, a huge reward for little effort. I attacked them with willful abandon. Within minutes, my lower back began to complain in the form of familiar surging twinges. However, blessed with the stubborn nature that harbors deep within my soul, I kept at it. Honestly, a few twinges wouldn’t stop me, not when there were still the plethora of suckers on the plum tree to deal with and a raft of dandelion weeds to pull and clumps of ivy to trim. My garden would be unattended for the next four weeks, so I knew it was imperative that I did what I could now.

Once the side area was freed of its crippling foliage, I moved onto my next project which was the decimation of the 20 random suckers shooting out of the base of the plum tree. My late husband was always very negative about suckers and their ability to draw valuable nutrition from the “mother tree” and I knew they had to be removed. Out of consideration for my back, I opted to adopt a somewhat less painful stance of spreading out my legs and then bending at the knees as I snipped.  While my back continued to grace me with fleeting pains of protest, they weren’t quite as insistent as before. Perfect. The job had to get done, I could ice and rest my back later.

With just one more sucker to snip, I stood up and stretched, then resumed the spread eagle stance and leaned over. BOOM. A paralytic, nerve jarring spasm, the likes of which I’ve NEVER experienced before, sizzled through my lower right back, dropping me like a stone onto my knees on the grass. I’d had back pain before, but nothing like this. My right leg was also somewhat rather numb from the knee up! Sweet Jesus, what had I done? I suspected it was something rather alarming but assuredly fixable with a bit of exercise. So, rather than seek medical attention, I opted to take the dog for a 30 minute walk, followed by the innocent tackling of the huge mound of neglected ironing. As one does.

That night I slept not a wink. My normal go-to of the ingestion of Regular Advil tablets was useless in dulling the jarring pain. The only thing that gave me relief was endless walking around the main floor of my house. As I paced throughout the night, my mind was fixated on just one thing. Could I get this mystery ailment healed in time for my nine and a half hour flight which was now just seven days away? Or would I have to disappoint my darlings and tell them to soldier on without me?

The Salzburg photo hints that I made it to Europe. But did I make the wedding? Did I manage to hook up with my son before he returned home? Did guardian angels swoop in and save the day?

Stay tuned. Until next time, thanks for reading. I’ve missed you.