Hope, but no Faith

I just got back on Saturday from a brief sojourn at Cape Cod with Dad and Sister Kay. I knit briefly on the plane, but haven't again picked up my needles. Dad's vest is looming over me like a cloud. I love, love, love knitting it, but every single round is a color change which gets a bit tiresome. And talk about ends! I'm working them in as I go, but I know for my own peace of mind, I'll end up weaving them all in for a bit.

Because we were flying into Providence which is not our usual destination, Dad and Kay used the GPS to pick us up. Despite her many flaws, Dad believes in his Garmin girl. As we were departing the airport, she started giving directions:

"Turn left, then turn left."

There was a fair amount of construction around the airport which really got her haunches up.

"Turn left...recalculating...turn left, turn left, TURN LEFT, recalculating, turn left, turn right, TURN LEFT."

Then she had a complete meltdown and stopped talking. Kay and I, in the back seat, are calling her countless names, including liar, stupid...you get the picture. Dad immediately jumped to her defense.

"It's alright sweetheart, I don't blame you for being confused."
"Dad, shut her off, she's losing her grip."
"TURN LEFT!"

Fortunately, the road signs were pretty good so we didn't have to rely on Miss Unreliable. Once on the Cape, she managed to get us to our destination and congratulated us for doing so. "Alright!" she said.

Other than the ill fated camping vacation which involved one of those vintage campers we attached to our woodie station wagon, 6 days of unyielding rain and tears, and an unfortunate evening with baked beans, we vacationed in cottages in Dennisport, MA on the Cape. Given that I wanted to eat all the seafood I could stuff down my throat while we were there, Dad remembered a great restaurant called Thompson's Clam Bar.

He entered the name into the GPS and lo and behold, she actually came up with an address! So off we went; this time she gave us meticulous directions and we were all very excited. Dad kept congratulating her and my mouth was watering for the whole belly fried clams I was sure to order.

We pulled up to our destination and she said absolutely nothing. No "alright," nothing.

We were on the waterfront which made sense for a seafood restaurant, but rather than a restaurant full of goodies I wanted to eat, there in front of us was a condo complex. We asked a man walking down the street if he knew of Thompson's and he said he had heard of it, but that it had been closed for at least 10 years.

I screamed from the back seat, "I knew it! She didn't say "Alright," because she knew she she was taking us on a wild goose chase. She needs to go in for major maintenance."

Again, Dad defended her, saying it wasn't her fault, she did the best she could, etc., etc. And that's when we decided to give her a name. Dad had been calling her Suzie which I thought was a little too cutesy for the malicious spoilsport she was. After a number of suggestions, we all agreed that her new name would be Hope. Wouldn't it be great if her name could be Faith? Fat chance, despite what you think of her Dad.

Here's my 3 pound lobster:

Doesn't it look yummy?

Here's Dad with his spiffy car. (We should have snapped him holding his girlfriend Hope.)