Turkey Talk

Convocations have occurred with some fanfare and very little drama (thank Gawwwwd) and now, the final epic graduation of son will take place to end the graduation year ceremoniously, thus. Or something traditional and ceremonial like that….

His grad date and Mommy spontaneously dropped by to shake my hand and meet the mother of the young man who will accompany her first born on her graduation. I’m hoping I made a good impression what with the clean laundry littering the floor, Mags barking madly, Hubby chillin’ on the couch eating his snack and watching hockey news and me still in my stinky running clothes. WHO DOESN’T WANT TO MEET SOMEBODY FOR THE FIRST TIME IN THAT SWEET MESS?! She was sweet and then the turkey talk happened. Literal, turkey talk. Son and grad date will have pics taken at someone’s cabin or farm or something naturalistic like that. I went into a semi-conscious state when the question of ‘so what are your plans for that day’ was asked. I wasn’t aware I was to have PLANS. Like, real PLANS?!! Then on to the discussion, well really more of a statement than discussion, of having pictures taken where there was a wharf and water and oh yeah, could be turkeys wandering about. BECAUSE GRAD PICTURES AREN’T GRAD PICTURES WITHOUT A RANDOM TURKEY IN THE BACKGROUND. That’s how it’s done, people.  

If I get trampled on by a rafter of turkeys (I looked it up…a group of turkeys is a ‘rafter’. Now you can amaze your friends with your trivia and expert knowledge of turkeys. I DO RESEARCH! You. Are. Welcome) I want that escapade into awesomeness documented for future generations to peruse and envy. “Oh, yeah look at Grandma run from that wacked out turkey! HE LOOKS PISSED!”


It will be framed and hung in the most auspicious place in the house. The bathroom.

I’m still waiting for warm weather to appear, but the gods of Spring/Summer refuse to cooperate, so here we are freezing in our capris and sandals hoping for some temps above freezing to save our tulips and budding trees. Plants are defiant and trying to come to life despite the cold air and billowing winds. It’s dismal. All this while I sit in front of the fire and see that other parts of Southern Ontario are under a heat wave and have HEAT warnings. ACTUAL HEAT WARNINGS. “I’m just dying from this heat” said one lady on the news. “I have to jump in a pool to cool off” OH FOR FUCK’S SAKE, SHUT UP! And I think I may have hurled my wine glass at her. The dog looked scared and ran off. I may have frightened Hubby who suggested we go for a walk. THEN WE LOOKED AT REAL ESTATE IN MY HOME TOWN…which was so eye-opening. What’s with all the dark-stained moldings?

I don’t understand.

Also, EVERYBODY HAS A POOL!! WHY CAN’T I HAVE A POOL?!

Because I live in Newfoundland and have the fire going in the middle of June. That’s why.  

But, I still want a pool in my backyard and a cornfield in the park around the corner. 

 I CAN DREAM…. 

The Leaves Are Not The Only Things Changing Colour

I’m still catching my breath from the epic win from the Liberals and the election of a new Prime Minister, that I haven’t had a chance to see fall in all its glory.  The leaves are starting to change from their lush green to their auburn and golden hues and I haven’t been out with my camera to take any pics.  I’ll see if I can do that on the weekend if it’s not pouring out of the heavens.  This is Newfoundland…hail, rain and sun all in an hour.  I took some photos a couple of weekends ago, but the leaves hadn’t changed yet, so not so glorious.

cropped-img_1433.jpg

It seems the times they are a’changin’ along with the leaves and I can’t help but feel a little hopeful.  I may not feel a direct sweeping affect from a new government, but the shininess and brightness that has injected itself into our parliament has left me all giddy and schoolgirl-ish.  Ooohhh…what will PM Trudeau do now?  The Americans have pointed out the young handsomeness that is now our Prime Minister and I’m not above pointing out the obvious, as well.  I texted the crowd and pointed out I was pretty damned happy that our Prime Minister was a handsome young guy that we could laud over the world as our new bright young star…it’s a great feeling to be proud of our Prime Minister.  I think we’ve been missing that for a long time. ‘Look at our intelligent handsome PM who is going to stand for the environment and change the way the world sees Canada’…that’s the sentiment and the hope that goes along with it.  Everybody is holding their breath and waiting in the wings, watching the young man shake hands and smile with the people.  Watching him slowly move back into 24 Sussex and get to work.

This is our new Prime Minister...I hear you applauding...yeah, I know.

This is our new Prime Minister…I hear you applauding…yeah, I know.

Let’s see if Justin can do it…Let’s see if he can fulfill his promises to make Canada good again.

“Just watch me” says the note that is now selling on Ebay.  The note he wrote in response to the question “Do you think you can beat Harper?”

Just watch me…

Oh, we are Mr. Trudeau….We definitely are….

That Day I Was High on Muscle Relaxants and Pain Killers and Argued Politics With The Dog. Otherwise Known as Yesterday

The election is quickly approaching and there are so many ad campaigns and articles proclaiming who is the best candidate, who has the best policies and platforms and who just plain sucks, that it’s getting confusing and sickening and trashy all at the same time.  One promises daycare at such a ridiculously low rate that it’s laughable, one says he’ll invest in Canada and the other one, ugh.  He’s just condescending, grasping at anything and basically has such a look of desperation and a power hungry-beady look in his eyes, that people are rolling THEIR eyes and hanging their heads in shame on his behalf.  Don’t look at him, maybe he’ll take the hint and slink away under a rock somewhere.  Embarrassing, really.

It seems to have gone on forever, this election campaign.  Monday is voting day (finally) and I can’t wait to get out to the polls and exercise my right to make something happen…change or not.

Then, maybe all of this ‘he’s not ready’, ‘he’s unrealistic’ and ‘he’s just an asshole’ will all be over.  I think that last one was on TV while I was in my state of dizziness from my back spasm medication…too many burpees (ugh)  I’m not sure, though.  About the last ad campaign slogan, not the burpees.  I’m sure about those.

Anyway, get out and vote.  Be counted! Let your voice (or your ‘x’) be heard!

I’m sure I’ll be back to myself by Monday and ready to mark my ballot.  No more arguing about politics with the dog.  She was getting all confused, anyway.  I don’t recall any candidates promising free belly rubs and bacon treats to the doggies who vote for their particular party…do you?

The Warm Winds of September

The warm winds of September were both well-received and confusing. This was July weather, not fall weather, although who’s complaining? Those fall days were sunny and warm, the bees were buzzing and the flowers were caught between blooming and dying off. The leaves were hesitant in changing colour since nature was telling them to remain their lush green. They were caught in a war of wills between seasonal tradition and environmental interference. The plan changed. The climate changed. July was freezing and cold; drizzly and foggy. While the rest of the world was baking in record high temperatures, we were snuggled down in our fleece jammies ramping up the heat and having bonfires to keep warm. Then August happened; August, with its sunny days and thank-the-Lord warmth. The sun shone, the kids ran amok in the street shouting SUMMER IS HERE! SUMMER IS HERE! And so it was. The flowers came out to say ‘hey’ and the grass grew…so did the weeds, but it’s all relative. We could sit out on a patio without shivering or looking for our hotpaws; barbeques were lit, cold beer was drank and we were able to emerge from hibernation, free from parkas, gloves even sweaters and see the light of day; we watched the sun fade at nine in the evening instead of five in the afternoon. We began to feel what the remainder of the world was feeling and we were damned happy about it.

Heat! Loves it.
Ahh, summer. September extended our August summer into fall, bringing warmth and sun and bright days. Our evenings are shorter, our days begin later but the warmth of September was giving us a well-deserved reprieve from our usual instantaneous transition from hot one day to downright cold the next. Thanks, September and the weather gods for giving us a break….Snow will fall soon enough, but until then, I will relish the lazy ease into cooler temperatures.
Now October, don’t go messing it up…take it easy on us. We need it…

fall leaves

When Life Was As Simple As a Peanut Butter Sandwich

There was no internet, or iphone or i-anything. We had jump ropes and played hide-and-seek. Lunches were packed in paper bags or plastic lunchpales. We had milk tickets and rarely drank pop. We played games outside like tag and dodgeball and tether ball. We went to the park and organized softball games or climbed the monkey bars. We played Red Rover in the space that belonged to the person who had the biggest back yard. We went swimming at Jaycee pool and walked a mile or more to get there. We rode our bikes, skinned out our knees (and in my case, my face), and threw a ball against a brick wall when we got bored. We climbed trees, made forts outside and chased butterflies. We went tobogganing in the winter, threw snowballs and built snowmen. We sucked on icicles (nature’s popsicles), chewed bubblegum until our jaws ached and dared somebody to eat a worm. We went fishing, threw rocks in the river and played truth or dare. We had sleepovers, went to drive-in movies and knocked on our friends’ doors to come outside. We ate dinner in under ten seconds, had summer jobs and after school ones, too. We walked or took the bus everywhere and hung out at the mall.
That is what childhood looked like.
Now it looks like this:
Talking is through a cell phone and it isn’t with your mouth, it’s with your fingers. Video games are played indoors. Jump ropes are for the ladies at the gym. Bike riding is for the people on TV or for people who don’t have cars and need to get to work. Organizing outdoor games is unheard of. What’s Red Rover? Climbing trees is illegal, I think. Balls are a part of a guy’s anatomy. Lunch is going to McDonald’s and coffee at Starbucks. A bagged lunch means you don’t have any money and it basically sucks to be you. Fishing is for dads on the weekend. Outside in the cold?! Maybe if there’s snowboarding or somebody has an ice rink in the backyard. Icicles are frozen acid rain. Snowmen are too heavy to build. Tobogganing means climbing back UP the hill. Ugh. Walking anywhere is dangerous. Throwing a snowball means you have aggressive tendencies and anger management issues and will require counselling. Truth or dare is played on the internet and is called Facebook. Hanging out at the mall still happens and the crew you hang with is the Bloods. Selling a ‘pip’ is not candy. After school jobs require a curriculum vitae and a multitude of references. A young person working through University or College gets a disparaging look from the instructor.
Generation gaps aside, there’s a big one here. We are to blame, but let’s not discount the kids just yet.
They work hard to get good grades, they work their part-time jobs in spite of adults barraging them with complaints and cynicism, they do their volunteer work, play team sports, take music lessons, and drive mom’s car to pick up the siblings at the after school tutoring program. They take out the garbage, do their own laundry, buy their books, pay for their gas, clean their rooms and feed the dog. They battle peer shit, try to side-step the drugs and the alcohol, tone down the drama on Facebook and keep their wits about them. They spend their money on i-tunes and at Starbucks, buy Christmas presents for their friends and remember birthdays. They know about the bullies and try to steer clear, defend their friends in the face of that mean kid in math and learn that as much as life sucks sometimes, they’ll always have that guy on Youtube to make them laugh. They love their parents and think they’re lame sometimes and they have no sense of humour at all. Home is a great place to hang out and eat everything in the fridge. Their bed is their refuge. They know a lot about fashion. They think they’re invincible.
So did we.
We are raising a totally different generation of beings. In spite of, or despite all the technological advances these kids are still producing ideas and generating a whole new set of problems…but maybe solutions too. Let’s not judge too harshly. Sure our childhoods were completely different, but so were the times we lived in.
They’re alright…
We three

My Walk Downtown

duckworth st colour

It’s not that I don’t like going downtown, I just don’t go there.  It’s not something I do in a run of a day.  It’s busy, little parking and I have very little need to wander aimlessly down there.  The shops that are located on Water and Duckworth Streets are interesting and very open for tourists.  When the cruise ships dock in the harbor, the passengers wander around downtown, go to a pub on George St. and maybe visit Auntie Crae’s.  I know where this stuff is.  I just don’t happen to be a townie so my experience is limited to a few random excursions in dropping someone off here or there or picking up teens from a concert at Mile One Centre.  It’s named this since it is the starting point of the first mile to connect to the Trans Canada Highway.  (but there’s an ocean separating us from the rest of Canada, but the highway runs to the tip of Port-Aux-Basques which is where the ferry runs to get you to North Sydney, Nova Scotia which is the mainland, which…ahh, never mind)  Mile One is our stadium where big performers play and the Caps play (AHL hockey team.  I’m not explaining anymore.  Go here to find out more) There.  I’ve done my civil duty to promote the city.  Now as I was saying….

This morning I had to venture downtown to the passport office.  A veritable confusing affair of one way streets and oodles of parking…with meters.  Someone forgot to mention its all metered parking.  I forgot my loonie.  *sigh*

I get to the office in record time despite thinking it was on Water St. (part of it is) and going past where I needed to.  I parked in the first space I saw.  I got out and began walking.

–        Sunny and nice day for a walk I head up Water St.

–        Wrong!

–        Backtrack to get to Bride’s Hill.  Up the hill to Duckworth

–        Head back, past the Duke of Duckworth ( I now know where that is, past Magnum and Steins, nice restaurant)

Duke of Duckworth

 

 

 

 

 

–  “look for the Tim Hortons on the corner” Bestie said.  I remembered.  Of course, there’s always a Tim Hortons on the corner.

–        Success!  Into the the TD centre

–        8th floor

–        1 person ahead of me in line…and it’s only 8:15am. I rock.

–        Get into the office.  Turned left right out of line

–        I took the guard literally when he said to ‘keep left’.

–        Get back in line, get ma ticket. E700. I have 5 applications to process.

–        Sit down

–        They call C500, then C501, then D400, then D401

–        WTF?  I was second in line!  But I have the most to process.

–        They finally call E700.  Yay me!

–        I approach the lady who’s wearing the uber-fashionable Hawaiian shirt and furry scarf that closely resembled a dead weasel. Niiiiice

–        Four passports processed then we get to son’s.

–        Uh, oh.  Daddy didn’t sign.  No can process, chicky.  ‘What?!  Fuck off, really?!’   Ugh

–        ‘Come back after Easter break when it won’t be so busy’ she said.  ‘Even if you wait until July for a trip in August you’ll be good’ she said.

–        Yeah, okay.  I’ll make Hubby do this one, I‘m thinking.

–        I pay the nice lady who is still wearing the funny shirt and dead weasel dangling ominously from her neck.

–        I leave to get into the elevator with nicely dressed man who asks me where Water St. was.  I happily tell him.  He says that’s where he’s headed, do I want to go there too?  Ummmm….

–        I laugh and wave goodbye to him as I step off on the floor I started from.  ‘Nice man, nice suit’ I’m rethinking my decision…

–        I step out into the sunshine and head down to Water St.

–        I find car

–        I find ticket on car

–        I obviously require supervision and guidance when venturing out of my area

–        I look for nice man in the nice suit

–        I swear profusely

–        I drive away

–        I wonder if any pubs are open at 9am….What?  It’s five o’clock somewhere…..

 

Newfoundland Screech

Newfoundland Screech

 

 

 

 

 

NOT Newfoundland Screech

NOT Newfoundland Screech