Is this the Road to Pyeongchang?

We've had a tough go of it since Christmas. We're on Snow Day number seven and it doesn't look good for school tomorrow. The Arctic Vortex has had us in its icy grip for three weeks and with windchill temperatures in the -30C range. Buses haven't just been cancelled, the school has actually been closed for four day which hardly ever happens. My Other Half's drive to and from work has been a constant white-knuckler and I'm starting to understand why No.1 Son is in no rush to get his licence since turning 16 at the beginning of the month. The number of cars we've seen in ditches and spinning around in circles is enough to put anyone off from driving.

The front of our manufacturing plant, they've had to dig out the two doors to get in every morning.

But there has been some good times too despite all the wintery weather as we are, first and foremost, a ski family after all and the snow on the hills has been amazing.

No. 1 Son had a top ten finish in his first race over Christmas and then was discouraged by his results in the next two but that made his third place finish last weekend all the sweeter. He has worked so hard, both on the hill and off and no one deserved it more. He has another race tomorrow and is then off to Lake Placid on Sunday for some more training and then back for a CanAM series so fingers crossed.

Ben (on the right)

No. 2 Son has had and has been a bit of a challenge, to say the least, after coming second in his first race he had a set back, fracturing his T1 vertebrae over Christmas so he was off for three weeks but came back strong and finished in the top ten in his second race. At home it's been even more challenging as he approaches his 14th birthday. He is the master debater in our house and I can only hope he finds a career that rewards his verbal dexterity and single-mindedness. In the meantime he has been fortunate enough to spend lots of time with his grandfather who has infinite patience and gives him the attention he so craves.

Cam (on the right)

No. 3 Son trucks along at his own break-neck pace, still hating school and loving every moment outside whether on the hill, across the street at our neighbours backyard skating rink or mini terrain park. If and when we ever sell this house (and I'm not holding my breath with our evermore frustratingly-full-of-excuses real estate agents) he will miss his gang of like-minded boys in the neighbourhood. After conquering his fear that his torn ACL would hold him back he also had a disappointing first race which was a good wake up call for the boy who is used to winning everything. And he did come second in the latest race and is looking forward to his next one on Friday.

Griff (third from the left)

I hope the Arctic Vortex heads back up north soon, the dog and I are tired of being stuck inside and he really doesn't appreciate the snow up to his chest when he has to go outside and lift his leg. Now I'm off to the high school to do course selection with No. 3 and not quite sure how it is possible to have two almost high school age sons. No. 1 is the same age as I was when I met his father but no girls in his life (that I know of) so far which I guess is not a bad thing as his sights are set much higher than placing in a few races on the Niagara Escarpment. Maybe this is the road to Pyeongchang.

Friday Catch Up

As the days grow shorter and weather cooler it seems we are trying to cram as much in as possible before the snow flies. Yesterday I was invited to go on a trail ride with a group in an area I had never ridden. I was a bit nervous about whether I would be able to keep up and if I'd be able to walk the next day but I am happy to report that I am walking like a cowboy and Jazz & I only got lost once (my fault as I held him back to see if we could have a good gallop) I followed the wrong trail and then had to double back to where luckily the rest of the group had done the same. The weather was picture perfect and the footing amazing. One of the leaders of the ride was a former Canadian national team ski racer and he rides a horse much like he used to ski a downhill course - flat out. The other riders were mostly older and many have ridden all over the world, something to dream about. It was fun and I hope we'll get invited again.

I also learned about the sport of Ride and Tie which is a crazy trail race with the team made up of one horse and two humans. They all start off at the same time and the rider goes as far as they think their partner can run to, they then tie up the horse and take off on foot. The first runner then finds the horse, hops on and takes off, passing the runner and continues on to another point where they tie up the horse again. Apparently there is not just a certain level of fitness required but some strategy so that the team makes it to the end together. A little crazy if you ask me but then I have never run a race in my life, nor have I ever wanted to but it might be fun to go watch one.

A perfect trail through the Dufferin Forest

Getting a drink

Happy trail riders

Yet another reason to love living in a small town - Number Two Son and his best buddy made a few bucks busking one day after school. They only knew one song but must have been quite entertaining. They gave half of the cash to the school music programme for the use of the instruments and tomorrow four of them are heading "downtown" to busk again. Let's hope the weather cooperates and the shop keepers are tolerant.

Ski season is still a couple of months off but the boys couldn't resist riding on the old J Bar when we went for a hike up the hill.

I think I already posted this picture but it is so perfect I couldn't resist.

The gang after we closed the cottage.

I have a hair appointment next week

My Favourite Time of Year

I can't believe I'm saying this but ...

I'm kind of jealous of Amy over at Bitchin' Wives Club because even though she is living in a sea of boxes that won't unpack themselves at least she gets a fresh start. We have been living in our current house for almost six years and that is the maximum we have ever stayed in one place.

Here's our timeline as a couple :

• 1987 - lived together for first time in a lovely garden flat in London, England.
• 1988 - first apartment together in Toronto, again a ground floor with patio but moved up to the second floor when someone tried to break in while we were sleeping.
• 1989 - bought our first house in Toronto with original dark, gumwood trim, stained glass windows, ancient kitchen but huge backyard, painted the living room hunter green.
• 1990 - sold first house, considered moving to Vancouver then bought second, considerably smaller house one block away (this was during mini recession). Again, original trim, tiny kitchen, smaller garden, two bedrooms. Painted living room blue.
• 1993 - sold and moved to Kennebunkport, Maine while OH studied boat building. No rentals to be had before school started so bought lobster fisherman's shed behind big house with only second floor habitable. Ground floor was already inhabited by squirrels. Renovated with help of boat builders and painted living room cream.
• 1995 - packed up truck and drove across the continent to White Rock, B.C. on the Washington state border. Rented fifties bungalow and sponge-painted living room. Faux finish era.
• 1996 - lasted five months on Wet Coast and packed up truck to drive across continent back to Ontario (truth be told, OH did the driving while I flew with the dog)
• 1997 - built timber frame dream home on property next to the farm where I grew up. Painted living room hunter green again because, as painter said, everyone with a house like this does.
• 2001 - sold dream house because country living wasn't the life for me and moved back to old neighbourhood in Toronto. Painted over original dark trim with Benjamin Moore Cloud White and living room Ralph Lauren Golden Retriever or Yellow Lab
• 2007 - sold house in the city and moved to small town. Painted every strip of knotty f**king pine panelling Benjamin Moore Cloud White much to painter's distress and living room Berh's Clotted Cream.
• 2012 - bored of house, walls and trim trashed from three boys and friends. Eighties almond fibreglass bathrooms unbearable. Exterior nineties sage green paint peeling and blond floors scuffed. All easily fixable (with money) but much easier to just leave it behind and start fresh, right?

Winter Wordless Wednesday

Friday, I'm in love

I am, but that's old news of course, just like this song from The Cure. Tonight I am looking forward to sushi and a movie with my Other Half while the boys are at the semi-final game of the Memorial Cup with my Dad. Tomorrow we have to get the mast up on the sailboat rain or shine (rain, most likely) so that we can get out on the water when summer finally decides to grace us with its presence. Tomorrow night its Lobsterfest when 1200 of our closest friends gather at the local hockey arena to eat crustaceans, drink draft and dance on the beer and butter-slicked rink floor. Only in a small town you say? Pity. Have a great weekend everyone!

P.S. Have you read Kyran Pittman's Planting Dandelions yet? It's a wonderful compliation of her blog posts and essays about life as a transplanted Newfie living in Arkansas, wife and MOB.

It's still snowing

Yes, we're still under a blanket of the white stuff up here. Not that it's really any surprise to anyone but by February I am starting to tire of the stuff or, most likely, the temperatures needed to sustain it. We have been in a deep freeze since New Years. Skiing, as you may have gathered from previous posts, is less of a pass time than a religion for our family so it begins to lose some of its luster after day 30 or so. This past Saturday I was coerced into a snow shoe with friends which I agreed to on the condition that it be a "social" outing rather than a competitive "who can run to the top and back down again first" sort of thing. It was the former, I am happy to report and I was even able to stop and take a few photos along the way. The quality isn't great as I didn't have my real camera with me but the iPhone at least gives you a sense of how gorgeous it was to be out in the woods catching up with friends and giving two happy dogs some exercise.

Sunday was a tough day for all three boys with disappointing finishes in all of their races but as I keep telling myself, learning to handle disappointment is going to help them throughout their lives. Hockey play offs continue for our goalie and (hopefully) after this round the team, like the Toronto Maple Leafs, can hang up their skates and dream about better luck next year.

Super Bowl Sunday was celebrated with family and my sister out did herself with the menu as requested by my boys. We dined on mini cocktail wieners in bbq sauce, an assortment of sushi including spicy tuna rolls and sashimi, New England Clam Chowder and then homemade pizza on a Pillsbury croissant crust followed by apple pie and ice cream for dessert. It was quite the party.

I've been hearing about quite a bit of drama in other people's lives lately and mine, in comparison, seems terribly mundane. No long lost loves reappearing on the scene, no family show downs, no marital implosions or offspring explosions. And as I watched, in morbid fascination, that "car wreck on the side of the road and I can't turn away" reality TV series, Toddlers in Tiaras with the overweight mothers and red neck fathers tarting their 10 year old daughters up like third rate Vegas showgirls, spending thousands of dollars they probably can ill afford on tacky sequinned costumes, I took some comfort in my little mundane world and crawled deeper under the blankets.

More Dispatches

I know that most of the northeastern and central portion of the continent is finally dealing with what we up have most days so forgive me if I have little sympathy for y'all down south (that includes you, Toronto) Yes, it is Snow Day # 7 or 8 by my count and while most of those did occur before Christmas, it's still another day with the boys at home. But "Snowmagedon" and "Snowpocalypse" Really? Has the world actually come to an end because for the first time in my adult life the Toronto District School Board declared it a Snow Day? I think not. I don't know if it's my age showing or that the world really does take itself way too seriously. In 1993 B.C. (Before Children) my Other Half and I lived in Kennebunkport, Maine for a couple of years and my favourite thing was the build up to a snow day. Those Mainers really know how to make it an event. It would start when the birth of a storm was being tracked either from the Midwest or, horror of all horrors, coming down from Canada. I was teaching so we'd all start making bets on whether school would be open the next day or not and then when our administrator actually made the call (usually when she told us to leave as soon as the last child had been picked up) we'd all smile and rush home to shut off our alarm clocks. My Other Half and I would hunker down with some wine, the dog and cat and lots of wood stacked by the fireplace to watch the local news. The 6 o'clock anchors would be wearing cozy sweaters instead of their usual jacket and ties as if they were going to be spending the night in the studio and the art department would have a field day with the STORM WATCH graphics. Then the cancellations would start rolling across the bottom of the screen - school closures, Weight Watchers meetings cancelled but the best of all was when the B&M Baked Bean factory in Portland would cancel the night or morning shift. Really, it was too dangerous for even those most essential of workers to risk going into work. It made us laugh every time.

Nowadays, everyone, including those bean makers, are far too vital to the economy to even consider staying home because of a little snow. That's why I like it up here, nothing is more important than the kids' safety, so the buses are cancelled at the drop of a snowflake but it's really more because of how important it is to our local economy that they get a few extra days on the slopes. As for me? I couldn't have hightailed it out of the house faster this morning when my Other Half realized that the roads going in the direction of the boat shop were closed and he wasn't going anywhere. I made the boys some Pillsbury Cinnamon buns, kicked them outside to play and left for work. In our town my place of employ, the Cheese Gallery, is considered an essential service and I braved an unplowed street and parking lot to make it in to put the coffee on and get the croissants in the oven. Now the only thing to do is update my facebook status, blog and decide what kind of grilled cheese to make for lunch. My friends who own the shop think I'm a saint for coming in to open the shop on time. Hell, even the bank is closed today. So I not only do I get brownie points at work, I get peace and quiet with no kids fighting over the computer, demanding food and leaving a trail of destruction in their wake throughout the house.

Yes, life isn't so bad up her in the Greater White North. Tomorrow? It's a PD Day but the sun is supposed to shine and the snow will be perfect so the boys and I will hit the slopes. Friday? The entire school will be at Blue Mountain for the Ski Cross event. It's a tough life we lead up here but somebody's got to do it.

My question is what do we do with the rest of the white stuff for the next three months?

Winter's Hush

My world is white this morning.

The first snow fell over night and everything is quiet outside.

The howling wind that brought the storm has calmed and the birds are huddled around the feeder.

The dog stepped out for his morning constitutional and made it as far as the back porch before noticing the world had changed. He put his nose down and snuffled under the blanket of snow before leaping off to run around in circles like a puppy.

Soon we will find mitts and hats and snowpants. Put on boots and join him for snow angels

Twas the night before All Hallo's Eve

Halloween seemed a little discombobulated this year. Maybe it was because it was on a Sunday or the fact that it was really cold but we didn't even get out the decorations until the day of and only got so far as to put a few cobwebs up by the front door. In contrast to our old street in the city where we'd get over a hundred trick or treaters, here on our quiet cul de sac of eight houses only my cousin's son and a couple of neighbours rang the bell. The kids, mine included, are smart enough to know you get way more candy per street if you go to the high density neighbourhoods.

But we adults did get out the night before for a few treats and lots of fun as witnessed by photos below.

Breakfast at Tiffany's meets Bonnie while Clyde was getting them drinks

(Apologies to Audrey and Faye)

Lisbeth Salader, Holly Golightly, an Angel and a Witch

Not sure who is Madder? The Hatter or the Devil.

Barbie & Ken were the perfect hosts once they came out of their boxes.

Everyone was getting into the spirit including Number Two Son and

his cousin who modelled matching Spiderman costumes.

Finally the big night arrived and the ghosts, ghouls and zombies were out in full force.

The Motley Crew consisted of a Dirtbiker, Zombie Lumberjack, Mini Spiderman, Little Red Riding Hood, an Old Rich Guy, 80's Skier and Zombie Abe Lincoln. I never know what they are going to be until the last minute. Number One Son actually changed from a Hobo to Old Rich Guy about five minutes before we headed out.

The Lumberjack met up with his good buddy Shaun White who found trick or treating while carrying a snowboard a little tiring but at least he was dressed for the frigid temperatures.

I also had a revelation this year while trying to come up with a good couple costume for my Other Half and I - we need to really be in disguise. My wonderful Clark Kentish hubby definitely comes out of his more introverted self when he dons a costume but this year's tweed suit and fedora just wasn't disguise enough for him to let loose like last year's leather biker chaps and tattoo sleeves did. He said he felt too much like himself or at least his old self who used to wear a suit and tie every day.

Lesson learned. Next year there will be make up and/or masks involved.

Fall Colours

Despite the grey skies threatening rain all last weekend the colours were still brilliant in the Park. Here's a few photos.

Going through the creek

Reflections

Cold boat ride

I want to ride my bicycle. I want to ride my bike.

The best thing about living in a small town is riding home after a girls' night on your bike weaving down the main drag like its a slalom course and making it home safely. And yes, I was wearing a helmet. One that I buckled on while riding with one hand and talking to my brother with the phone tucked in securely. That's what helmets are for, right?

Celebrating Grilled Cheese Sandwiches and Spring or Any Excuse for a Party

I'm hosting a little get together tomorrow night and I think I have come up with the perfect party food. Gourmet Grilled Cheese Sandwiches or if I want to be really fancy I could call them Paninis and do an Italian theme. Either way it is my kind of party. Starts anytime after six o'clock and everyone will be out the door by nine at the latest. Friday is Jazz Mania in our town and it is like a Pub Crawl for grown ups. I wrote about it here last year and it one of the highlights of living where we do because it is the first spring event when we can all shed our winter coats (hopefully) and get out to see people who have been in hibernation all winter and listen to some great music.

But back to my pre-party. Since the evening does go on for quite a while and does involve lots of beverages including the kind you put in a plastic cup called "travellers" in these here parts and to which the local constabulary turns a blind eye, I thought that we really needed something substantial to eat before we all set off. But with 26 or more people coming I didn't want to do dinner. Et voila, the gourmet grilled cheeses. So I am off to our local cheese shop to stock up on lots of ooey gooey dairy products to hold the multitude of fillings I am thinking of using like proscuitto, sun dried tomatoes, pear, apple, basil, rare roast beef, Montreal smoked meat, and smoked salmon. And every kind of bread our local bakery bakes from multigrain to marble rye to raisin. I might even have to do a retro white Wonder Bread and Kraft Cheese slices with ketchup for dipping for fun. The possiblitites are endless and making me hungry so I had better get going but, if you have any great suggestions, please let me know.

Swingtown

I learned something new about our sleepy little town recently. There's a lot more than just sleeping going on around here. Our neighbours across the way are getting ready to put their house up for sale which is very sad because they are the reason we moved on to this street. They moved up from the city a year before us and when we started looking for a house they told us the one across the street was for sale so we bought it. But they have decided to cash out before interest rates rocket skyward. So we and the neighbours behind them are faced with the prospect of a new family moving in and potentially cutting off the kids path to school, not to mention the fact that their deck gets the sun the longest in the evening and they always open their pool first. So Betty (not her real name, of course) and I have started putting out the word to a select group that we will be taking applications to become our new in-between neighbours. The selection process is rigorous and includes being able put up with kids, dogs and adults traipsing through the yard at all hours; having lots of cold beverages ready in the afternoon; and enjoying backyard showings of the Stanley Cup and other major television events.

I quite naively mentioned the house to a woman I knew from school who said she and her family were looking to move into town so that their kids weren't stuck on the bus for two hours morning and afternoon. She was very interested but when I told Betty she stared at me and then said, "Well, if they move in we're moving."

I was rather taken a back by this response and asked "Why?"

"Don't you know about Ethel and Merv?" she replied.

"No" I said innocently.

"Well," Betty said, looking around to see if anyone was listening, "About two years ago we were at a party when Ethel came up and introduced herself to me and asked if I would like to see her bedroom which they had just remodelled. Not really, I replied but thanks for asking."

"Well, you really should," Ethel continued. "It's very well-insulated."

"Great, I guess you'll be warm in the winter."

"Yes and it's very quiet, no one can hear us."

As the realization of what Betty was telling me dawned I shook my head, "You're kidding? She was inviting you to come up and see her etchings, so to speak?" I said.

"Etchings and much much more and she didn't want just me to come up, she wanted the men to join us." Betty went on.

"OMG, you're kidding?"

"Nope and she didn't stop even after I tried to politely say, What part of no don't you understand? Then later when I was trapped in the dressing room helping our daughters lace up their skates she tried again, going on about all the fun they have with different couples on picnics. Again, I said that we weren't interested in going on any adult picnics and ducked my head down to tie her daughter's bright pink laces."

Apparently this happened several times until Ethel finally got the message and gave up inviting Betty and her husband for picnics. Turns out they had also approached three other couples with the same alfresco dining invitation. I was mortified that I had almost invited her to move in across the street from us. But then I thought, "Hey, wait a minute. We went to Ethel and Merv's Halloween party last year and nobody made any moves on us. What are we? Chopped liver?"

Now I don't consider myself a prude and I always thought I loved a good picnic as much as the next girl but I didn't think that in our neighbourly application process we'd have to screen for swingers.

Ahhh ... spring skiing

Watching the Junior Club Championships





White is the new black







Enjoying the Apres Ski

The Boys and Crazy Canuck Ken Read

Tom Brokaw Explains Canada to Americans

Don't know how many of you saw this on NBC but I just watched it and thought it was very well done ... until the end when Brokaw reports that our Prime Minister had to encourage Canadians to be more patriotic during the Olympics.

Well so far, I think we have done more than we were told, not that I want to give Stephen Harper any credit for the unbelievable show of patriotism and pride in our country, not to mention our amazing medal count so far. A prime example may be found right here in my own home where Number Three Son is going for gold and a world's record for wearing the same article of Team Canada clothing not only for the entire length of the Games but since he opened his presents on Christmas morning!

Winter Wonderland

What a way to spend a day with Number Three Son

Journey from the Congo

Oh boy. Or should I say boys? It has been a long week of single motherhood. My mother did arrive to help out while my Other Half was off at a trade show, although she was 24 hours late. First she was too tired to come up on Tuesday night and then she forgot to set her alarm on Wednesday morning. I had to have Number One Son at the ski hill for 8:30am and the other two at school for 8:40am, they are about 20 minutes apart. Thank goodness for neighbours, it really does take a village.

I love my mother and my boys do too but reliable she is not. Once she was here everyone had fun, she loves to just hang out and the boys love to vie for her attention with stories of what is happening at school. It must be a grandmother thing since they never tell me a thing about their days. But one thing that did come out from Number Two Son who is nine and in Grade 4 is that there is going to be a new student in his class soon. We had been hearing about a refugee family from the Democratic Republic of Congo (DRC)who are being sponsored by the churches in our town. There are six family members, including mother, father, 16 year old son, and 13, 9 and 3 year old daughters. The nine year old will be in my middle son's class. Not much is known about the family except that they speak French and Swahili. The DRC is in central Africa and was formerly known as Zaire and before that the Belgian Congo. Barbara Kingsolver's book The Poisonwood Bible is set in this country during colonial times.

The DRC is rich in minerals including diamonds and copper and has suffered almost constant war both internally and against neighbouring countries since these resources were discovered. The people, of course, have suffered the most and this family is no exception. They had a fourth daughter who was raped and murdered while they were fleeing their village. The family will be arriving any day now and will be welcomed by our entire town. A house has been donated for them to live in and has been completely repainted and fully furnished with donations of time, money and furniture. The family will be greeted at the Toronto airport with bags of winter clothing for each of them and that is where I start to wonder what on Earth they will be thinking as they are handed parkas, hats, mitts and snow boots. The average temperature in the DRC is about 28C or 82F. Right now we are experiencing our January "thaw" and the temperature is around -7C or 19F. The ground is completely white and Georgian Bay is partially frozen. Will they believe us when we tell them that the trees that look so grey and dead will blossom in a few months and that underneath all the snow the grass, flowers and even animals are just sleeping?

But is not just the climate shock they will be going through that I cannot fathom, it is the culture shock. They come from a country of 68 million and although it is the third largest country in Africa it is still significantly smaller than Canada. They have been living in tents in a camp crammed in with thousands of other refugees and they are coming to a place where you can drive for miles and never see another person and not just in the winter when we are all hibernating. They will be living in a house with four bedrooms and two bathrooms. How will the children react to sleeping apart from their parents? How will they react to attending school where the vast majority of the student body is white, English speaking and have known one another since Kindergarten? What will it be like for the parents to cope with the every day details of grocery shopping in a supermarket with entire aisles devoted to boxes of cereal and potato chips? Will they ever be able to forget what they went through to get here?

As I deal with the day-to-day stresses of raising three boisterous, active and healthy boys and complain about the driving from ski hill to arena, the constant battle to get homework done, meals prepared and eaten I realize all that we take for granted. As soon as this family arrives I will be one of the regular volunteers helping them with their shopping, driving to appointments and getting the children settled in school. I am hoping my ability to speak French will allow them to understand me and me them despite the vast differences in our lives. I hope, despite the cold climate and our Canadian reputation for being reserved, that we will be able to welcome them with warmth and joy so that their new life here will be worth all the emotional and physical sacrifices they have endured to get here.

Back to Reality (sort of)

Ah ... the first day back at school and the first snow day ... sigh. It has been snowing and blowing since New Year's Day when I rode Jazz practically blind, trusting the fact that while I had to keep my eyes down, my face buried in his mane to keep the flying snow crystals out of my eyes as we galloped through down the rows of apple trees in the orchard, his eyes were on the side of his head and he could see and stop before we reached the barbed wire fence at the end. He did and we started 2010 off with a cold but wonderful ride.

So now the boys are in the basement playing Wii Ski, as if they didn't get enough of moguls, powder and speed over the last two weeks of being on the hill every morning at 9am and staying until the last chair went up the hill at 4pm. I struggle with wanting to stay home and hang out and knowing that they are happiest when they are with their friends and busy. But this morning when I saw the buses were cancelled and even though we live in town and the school is technically open for them I relented and agreed to let them stay home and do a bit of vegging. They deserve it, as long as there is no fighting or trashing of the house. In a little while I will toss them outside to shovel and make snow forts and do what kids should do on a snow day. And we will put off the inevitable return to everyday life - making lunches, calling upstairs for the tenth time to get up and get dressed and get downstairs, (funny how this morning it wasn't a problem) homework and hockey practise.

My Other Half leaves on Thursday for 12 days and since I survived last year (barely) I think I will make it through this one as long as Mother Nature lays off on the blizzards for a while. We have quite enough snow to ski on, thank you very much and the frigid temperatures forecasted for the next two weeks means it isn't going anywhere anytime soon. I'll try to get some photos of all the fun outside and post them later.