Some Things I Am Thinking RIGHT NOW

- McK is asleep and all of her hair is directly in her face. Does the same thing happen to me? I don't think so. I think it would drive me nuts and wake me up. But who knows.

- I am flying to Calgary tomorrow. I get to see my sister and help her move, see both of my gorgeously handsome and brilliant nephews, and see my bro and sis in law. How often do I get to do that? Not often enough.

- While I don't necessarily consider myself a people pleaser, I certainly consider myself a people helper. I want to help. Sometimes I get kicked in the face for my efforts, or taken advantage of, and sometimes I know its appreciated. In fact, its often the times where I am completely unable to help but the knowledge is there that I would if I could that garners the most appreciation. And that's as good as actually doing something.

- Got the keys to our new mailbox for the new house. Still have a month and a bit before the scheduled move-in date but it'll be nice to start changing the addresses on things. Kind of feel like we've pulled one over on Canada Post. Satisfying.

- This weather? Odd but interesting. Sun, then grey, then massive 5 minute downpours, then sun that comes out so quick and with such an attitude its like its saying, "What are YOU looking at?".

- I am leaving Winnipeg on a weekend where the temps are things my dreams are made of and heading to Calg where suddenly they are having a heat wave with highs in the 30s. And I am moving boxes and furniture. God help me. I will be a sweaty mess all weekend. The sooner I come to terms with this, the better.

- I packed small. Carry on small. For 3 plus days. Go me.
- A friend of mine texted me today and said "you'll never guess, I'm in Regina on my way to Edmonton". Well, I must say that was an incredibly accurate statement. I would NEVER have guessed that. She may even be in Calgary at the same time as me. How weird.

- I write nearly all my blog posts from my blackberry. I generally write them right before bed. Its becoming almost habit like. I feel like Rev Run in the bath at the end of each episode. I think I need some words of wisdom.

- If you REALLY want to help someone, stop annoying them by asking them what you can do all the time. Find something that needs doing, and do it. There.

God is Love, Rev Run.

The Third Floor

When I was younger I had a friend named Jana who was the shit. She was everything I wanted to be and I tried my darndest to be just like her. It was like she just DID all the things I wanted to but was too chicken or reserved or self conscious to do myself. But she certainly made me open up. We were the only two girls in a very catholic school that would wear jeans under our school uniforms and then tucked them up and fought back when we were told to take them off. We were the only two girls who wore Chuck Taylor All Star Hightops and traded one shoe each so we had one black and one red. We were the only two girls that went after two boys in an older grade.

Jana had, what I thought at the time was, the coolest life ever with the coolest parents ever. They were relaxed and funny and let her do whatever she wanted. She lived in a big old house in "the Gates". Her dad drove a cool old mercedes. Her mom had friends that were Tarot card readers or were living with Aids or something else that seemed just as foreign and exotic to my sheltered boring life. We listened to new old amazing music that was nowhere NEAR the top 40. We went to places kids our age didn't typically hang out. We wore crinolins as skirts and our dads suit jackets and army boots. We shopped exclusively at the Salvation Army.

Everyone wanted to go to Jana's for sleepovers. Parents has reservations about letting it happen. But every once in awhile the stars aligned and I was allowed to go. She had the coolest bedroom ever, painted whatever color struck her fancy. She had a mannequin in her room and a birdcage complete with strange exotic bird. She had walls full of posters of Marilyn Munroe when other kids our age had the latest pop star plastered on theirs. She started my full on fascination-slash-obsession with James Dean. Her moms room had its own veranda that matched the one on the main floor. But the best part of their house was the third floor.

The third floor is where all the fun took place. All the squealing and truth or dare and boy-crush confessions. Her mom would rent us R rated horror movies and we would quite literally scare the life out of ourselves. Their old house moved and creaked and we swore people were trying to get in, trying to kill us of course. The screams that came from that third floor would rival any horror film.

I remember one sleepover she had a Ouiga Board. We all asked it the same question. Are you there? And who will I marry? We all swore that none of us moved the thing around at all but none of us believed each other fully. The answers were too coincidental. But the most frightening part about the Ouiga Board experience? When our parents found out. Whooooo-eeeee! We got some heat for that. Our teachers even found out at our ultra-catholic school and we got in some pretty impressive crap there too.

I ended up working with Jana's dad a few jobs ago. He was still the super nice guy I remembered. I got her email address from him and we corresponded a time or two. But I think our special friendship lay best where we left it. Tucked up on the third floor.

Can I Help You?

I went to Safeway for a couple of groceries after work today. Its a pretty old school Safeway complete with the swooping sign in the front and the circular item movers as opposed to the more modern belts. It reminded me of eons ago when I would shop at a similarly aged and non-renovated Safeway at Main and Inkster.

I would go to this Safeway very nearly everyday. It was back when I would make dinner by the seat of my pants and go grab the necessities on my way home each day, often times not even knowing what that would be till I went in and wandered for a bit. Every single time I went in there, the same stock boy/clerk person would ask me if I needed anything. Can I help you? Is there anything I can help you find? Can I help you? Are you finding everything ok? Can I help you?

One particular day he got me in just about every aisle. Same question. Dude. Its not that busy in here. You can't possibly have shown concern for the shopping success of a million other people tonight. I'm the SAME CHICK you asked the SAME QUESTION to one aisle over. And the one before that. No thanks. I'm fine. Yes I found everything I was looking for. No thanks. I'm good.

Finally, after the fourth aisle, he appeared again to ask if he could help me. After the briefest moment of considering a mental disability I decided he could help me after all.

"Can I help you with anything?"
"Yes. Can you tell me what I should make my husband for supper?"
Silence.
Silence.
I break the awkward hush that fell upon the store with a giggle and yet another assurance that no, no strange man, you cannot help me. Not tonight.

The Fringe Fest and Other Things

This weekend we stayed in the city. Though I think we may have cumulatively spent as much time outside as if we had gone off on another water-based adventure. Saturday brought us to the Fringe Festival, a festival that involves a variety of venues and an even wider variety of acts and performers with a gigantic free program at their main stage in Old Market Square. This is where we go. Surrounded by food vendors, small businesses and street buskers, its the perfect spot to kill an afternoon.

We wandered a bit and settled on the grass to watch the shows. The video below this post is, what I would definitely describe as, the highlight of the day. Other highlights? 5 dollar chicken curry with rice, fresh squeezed lemonade, craft tables, and endless shady spots.

It was like every chick who had gone to Folk Fest or Country Fest realized that they had another occassion to wear "that" outfit. So many pheasant skirts with tank tops worn with full confidence in built in bras and sundresses paired with cowboy boots in one small square of the city. It was almost humorous.

There were the odd folk wandering around that brought great pleasure to my people-watching needs. Mr Shorty Shorts usually only seen at the Forks. The drunk chick in the beer garden who could play the Octomom's double talking to everyone until she found someone who would talk back to her. The girls dancing to the drummers who danced with so little rythm I wondered if they threw the drummers off at all.

Today we went to the Living Prairie Museum to see the butterfly release. To their credit, they never did post anywhere the quantity of butterflies they planned to release. We just assumed that as it was being made into such a big deal complete with family day, workshops and free stuff, that there would be a somewhat substantial amount of butterflies being set free. Mck had estimated one hundred million. I was thinking more in the hundreds and envisioned a swarm, like a blanket, going off into the wild blue yonder. Turns out we were off a bit. There were roughly 15 let go. 15. One five. Mck was still pumped so it was all good in the hood but the photo-op I had fancied pretty much shrank to nil.

Mck's eyes shut the second her head hit the pillow on both nights this weekend. I like it when that happens.

Pat At The Fringe

Its 5 minutes but its soooooo worth it.

The Tunnel

Caddy Lake to South Cross Lake

Pics from Caddy Lake

This One Time...

I saw something today that made me chuckle. On some show someone referenced band camp. And no, it didn't automatically make me think of American Pie. It made me think of an old job and an old pal.
You see, back when I organized the bike tours, this pal and I used to talk about them ALL the time. So much so that we started saying, "this one time, at bike tour...". It was so totally unrelated to the movie and had nothing really to do with the bike tour or band camp but would make us laugh and laugh and laugh.
I worked with a lot of unhappy, unstable and unsatisfiable people. They didn't get the bike tour like I did. They didn't have the overwhelming urge to want to talk about it all the time like I did. And they didn't necessarily want to hear me go on and on about it like I did. So when my pal and I were together, it was all band camp, all the time. Hey, did I ever tell you? This one time, at bike tour...

Funny Men

I used to love Andrew Dice Clay. And had I not seen the latest Celebrity Apprentice I might even still say that. But his crass humor was lost on me when I actually saw his personality. However, there are some oldies but goodies that have stood my test of time.

Dennis Leary. I got his CD Lock'n'Load years and years ago. I listened to it throughout a particularly boring stretch of highway between here and Calgary and I gotta say, maybe I have a thing for crass humor. Though he seems to blend in common sense humor at the same time. Favorite bit? The availability of coffee flavored coffee.

Adam Sandler. Love his stand up. Love his SNL days. Love his straight faced funnies. What I don't love so much? Most of his movies. But I forgive him. Why do I forgive so many bad movie roles in a row? Three words. The Hannukah Song.

Will Ferrell. SNL came back to life in my eyes. Even now, when he guest hosts it, its just better. His movies are goofy but not stupid and he is just. Plain. Funny. His best flick? Stepbrothers. His best line? "That's not santa! That's not santa!".

Up'n'comer? I don't know his name but he's on MadTV. He plays the socially "behind" kid with the rosy cheeks and he needs to get himself off of Mad and on to SNL so he can truly grow and people can see his Farrell-esque funniness.

And the new supposedly funny men? Seth Rogan, Jonah Hill? Yeah. I don't get it.

Curious Men

In watching TV tonight I found myself faced with some curious men. Some were curious in a good way, some in a sketch way and some in a maybe-i-like-ya-i'm-not-sure-yet way.

Piers Morgan, Celebrity Apprentice and Americas Got Talent Host - recognizes raw talent and is not afraid to say no to the ones with zero talent. Doesn't make excuses for them or for his decisions. I think I like him, mostly because we're usually on the same page with the talent category of the "hopefuls". But where did he come from?

David Hasselhoff, Baywatch, Americas Got Talent Host - Um. I think he falls into the "I don't know" category. Its like he thinks he's still as cool as he was on Baywatch only he was never actually cool on Baywatch.


Gordon Ramsay, host Hells Kitchen - I love this man. He tells it like it is. If you're a fuck-up, well, he'll remind you of that. And like the kids on the show acknowledge, he is trying to bring out the best in them. There's just something about his potty mouth.

Jean Philippe, maitre'd Hells Kitchen - I have long admired JP for putting up with Gordon Ramsay and keeping the irritated customers of Hells Kitchen calm. He is the epitomy of dapper and old fashioned. And tonight he rocked it old school with a punk from Texas. Best line ever? After both he and the Texan got a talking to from Gordon and were told to behave, he snuck in a "Ladies first" when the punk left the room before him. Classic.

Joe Jackson, Michael Jacksons father - I had never ever had an opinion of this man prior to him whoring himself out to whatever tv station or show would have him. Now he's everywhere and he makes my skin crawl. Not for what he may or may not have done to his kids (cuz lord knows there's people out there doing worse) but for what he's trying to do now. Your kids didn't like you, man. You got all you could out of them that they couldn't stop you from getting legally. Now you and your stupid hat are parading around tv searching for a pity party and some appearance fees. Sick.

I would love to see the following: Piers and JP generate a brilliant plan (because they are clever and witty and can make bad shit good) and get David and Gordon all fired up (because David is still somewhat in shape and Gordon cuz, well, he's Gordon) and they go apeshit crazy on Joe's ass. That? THAT I would watch. Possibly even pay to see. Maybe even twice.

Caddy Lake; Revisited

It was weird, trying to remember how to get there, to find the boat launch, to know how much farther it is. We loaded the canoe with a vague recollection of where to aim ourselves and set off in that general direction. We got to the tunnel that would take us into South Cross and Mck was amazed. We got into South Cross and again were struck with vague familiarity, the notion that we knew where we were supposed to go but not really knowing where we were headed.

We passed out-croppings that we thought were the island we needed to get to and grew nervous at the sight of all sites taken. All of my backup sites had patches of color where tent fabric could be seen through the trees and I grew tired at the thought of turning around and paddling back to the car for lack of somewhere to actually stop. Finally, our island was in sight. The rock that I spent hours upon hours jumping off of from just that right spot where you could hurl yourself off without hitting a shallow rock. The spot where I would sit and watch the sun go down for more nights that I can remember. The sweet span of shield where the fish were always biting. And the half of the island full of trees that hid the second campsite. We saw a couple of people on the exposed side and knew that site number 1 was taken. But with nothing to lose, we headed towards the left side and wouldn't you know it, vacant.

It was cool. It was breezy. It was protected but open. It had water on three sides. It had trees for hammocks, flat spots for tents, access to water and we made ourselves at home.

I woke up in the brightness of the middle of the night. I saw the stars and I stared. I stared at them for a long time and thought about how tired I was going to be if I didn't stop staring and get to sleep. And then I stared some more.

Morning came quick but we did not rush to pack up this time. I rocked some more in the hammock, paddled some more just for fun, took some more pictures just in case I missed that perfect shot, and watched the wind go from non-existent to "today's official challenge". We've been out on the canoe one other time in 7 years. We have had the wind in our favor for the three times we've had to paddle to or from somewhere this year. I wasn't sure if my arms would remember what it was like to paddle against something.

I guess its like riding a bike. You dig in and don't stop and when the waves come you time your strokes to the rise and fall so that you don't waste a stroke in the dip of a wave and don't end up with water to your elbow at the height of one. It was tiring, it took a long time, it was reminiscent of paddles we used to power through. So we did. McK was a champion and was content when my answer to her "how much longer" question was "I don't know honey." It was better than the whining that comes with my usual reply of "844 seconds". I think she respected the honesty.

We got to the car after nearly two hours of remembering where my triceps were hiding and saying hello to my core muscles. I thanked my shoulders for their tireless effort and gave a nod to Mother Nature. She knew I secretly wanted a challenge even when I didn't realize it myself.

I drove home home exhausted, McK sleeping in the back surrounded by piles of gear, and was satisfied.

Senior Cat

Today, walking to IGA with Mck, I realized that she looked like an 80 year old cougar. A visual for you: burgundy leggings with shiny gold buttons at the bottom, ankle socks, long tshirt with a zebra on it, and gold lamme open toed shoes. All she needed was some poorly applied makeup, a shot of whiskey and a cigarette hanging out of her mouth.
(Note to self: maybe don't let her choose her own outfits ALL the time.)

McK's First Trip in the Drink

Empty

We didn't canoe this weekend. And I can tell. I am more tired, more bored, more "meh" when people ask what I did this weekend. It sucked. Every car that passed me with a boat on it made my heart ache just a tiny bit. Mck had a birthday party and we had dinner plans and all I could think of was what kind of a MORON was I for accepting the date and RSVPing to the party?
So I put my foot down. This weekend? This weekend we are canoeing come hell or high water (well, not TOO high). We are trying a different island. A longer route. A tweaked packing list. And it? Will rock. Its back in me. I have lake water coursing through my veins again. And like a vampire needs a bite, I need my paddle in my hand, my kid tucked in in front of me and nothing in the horizon but the elements.

Full

Just spent a weekend canoeing. And I am full. My stomach is full of delicious food cooked in open air. My hair is full of lotion and bug spray and lake water splashes. My skin is full of vitamin D and kisses from sun and caresses from wind. My muscles are full of life and an energy they have not felt for a good while. My hands are full of callouses that have been sadly absent for years though I welcome them back now as a reminder of the work and love in every paddle stroke. My nails are full of dirt and grime and telltale signs that I have spent a weekend with mother nature and we played hard, as we tend to do when she and I get together. My head is full os images, pictures taken and pictures not taken, of memories and lists for next time. My heart is full of joy and laughter and admiration and pride as I watched my daughter get to know this good friend of mine, mother nature, and show her toughness and ability on the water. But my soul? It is so full it is bursting.

Talkin' Bout My Girl

McK had her first canoe trip on the weekend. I will post the pics soon for those of you who have not seen them on facebook. But I just need to say, my kid? Was TRULY MY kid this weekend. There was no mistaking her.
She helped load the canoe. She stepped in it on water for the first time ever and maneouvered herself around like it was a couch. She sat and enjoyed the view. She trailed her fingers in the moving water as we flew along. She helped to paddle (sort of!). She climbed out of the canoe onto steep rocks like she had sticky soles. She brought gear to the site and wanted to be a part of the set up. She explored. She checked stuff out. She was totally game for getting back into the canoe and paddling over to the other shore just to see what's there. She stared into the fire. But most of all, the one way she was MOST like me out there? She got into the hammock.....and did not want to get out. THAT'S my girl.