Wud Up 2021?

 Okay, so that was a weird year.

I had a lot of good times anyway. 

In the beginning of the year I got on with MaxWell Devonshire Realty as a real estate associate. I learned so many new things, I can't believe that my head didn't explode. 

My daughter, our youngest, graduated from highschool in the spring. Grandma came out from Penticton, BC and big brother Brody (far left, next to Coleson) flew out from Sudbury, ON to help celebrate. I can't explain what a good time that was! Despite restrictions, although some had been loosened, we were able to have dinner in the Water Tower, friendly game of bowling and take pictures at Henderson Park. 

In the summer, Mike, Raelynn and I flew to Victoria, BC and stayed for five days. What a beautiful city! We went with the original intention to visit family but unfortunately that didn't quite work out the way we had planned. Left to our own devices most of the time, we still had a great little holiday and kept busy the entire time we were there. Thanks to Mike's Aunt Diana and Larry, we were able to stay where we had a great view ALL THE TIME!

We were able to visit Mike's Aunt Pauline and Uncle Norm in the nearby Cowichan Valley. I can't tell you what a good day that was!

I now cannot eat fish and chips anywhere else. 

I kept going with whatever I possibly could as a volunteer with the 14th Scouting Group, as restrictions held us back with many of our regular events and activities. Hopefully next year we can organize more events where we can invite families of the members again. 

14th McKillop's booth at Whoop-Up Days

I visited with my local friends whenever I could. One of my favourite things to do with them is trying out coffee shops...even the ones I've been to before. I like to make sure they still have good coffee. :)

When not working, local hikes, warm summer evenings, wine, propane campfires, and good books kept me content throughout the year.

We had old Tootles, the cat, for a few months. She was a feline who's original owner moved into a nursing home and after bouncing around to a few homes, finally found her place. Tootles didn't play well with others so needed to be an only pet. Daffodil and Wasabi have war wounds to back me up. Her name is Harley Quinn now and she's living her best life in Calgary with Allan.

We seem to both have a larger left eye

In the fall, Mike tearfully sold the quad and his motorcycle -- and THEN purchased an even better motorcycle! The neighbours were tearful anyway, as he used the quad mainly to clear the sidewalks on our court the last few winters. I was a little sad too as gifts of booze, preservatives and homemade treats came to a complete halt. ( "Thank you's" from our neighbours for not making them risk heart attacks.)

At Christmas time, Mike and I ventured through the snowy Rocky Mountains to visit with his mom, sister and her awesome family. It was a small gathering but it was so so fun! 

But wait! There were other motives! Mike had to pick up his new motorcycle as he had purchased it from someone in Kelowna. Mike's sister, Sue and her husband Lawrence were kind enough to pick it up and nestled it in their snuggly garage in Penticton until we arrived.  

So that explains my 2021. Now that I'm looking back at it, it's not as bad as I thought it was. Maybe it was all the wine I drank, but I had a really nice time and laughed a lot.

I can't wait to see what 2022 brings to the party!

Ten-Four Good Buddy

This is truly an ominous time in our lives. The virus sweeping the world right now is something out of Hollywood.

It's making many panic, and to be honest, after reading too much social media, I too, panicked. But when I shut off the computer, phone and television, I feel a soothing calm. My family is doing well. We're eating well, thanks to simple, often Mennonite-inspired, meals that can be prepared with a little planning. We all still have our sense of humour and when I'm feeling a little too cabin-fevery, I head outside for a walk or go for a drive in the car.

I've only gone into public to do the grocery shopping once since the state of emergency was issued. We can make anything out of anything, so instead of making a menu before a shopping trip, I see what's left in the store first, then plan meals in my head. My parents taught me how to make do in a McGyvery-Mennonite way.

My 16 year old daughter is finishing up her grade 11 studies at home through an online system that her highschool set up, quite swiftly I might add! She played her cards right so she's only got two classes until the end of the school year and an optional distance learning course. My 19 year old has been told to stay home and his work as a security guard has been put on hold for a couple of weeks. (He phoned in for a day off because he wasn't feeling well and they told him to stay home.) My husband is still heading to work every day but he works with so very few people in the auto body shop right now and they have work in the shop to keep them busy for awhile.

Normalcy for me consists of studying for my real estate exam (which I won't be able to write until the college opens up), listening to the radio as I'm going about daily chores and routine, baking treats, and anything to make us feel like we're not stuck in a chicken coop.

There's desperation in the air as people are struggling to make ends meet. The unsung heroes are working so very very hard to keep this country afloat and keep our population alive. Often not thanked enough.

It's our trucking companies who get a big shout out from me. That is whom I can relate to. It takes a special kind of person to work in the trucking industry.

I have family members, distant and immediate, friends and acquaintances in the industry so I have seen first-hand how truck drivers worry about paying the bills, the mortgage, keeping their families fed and happy. I've seen the distraught faces of truck drivers whose trucks have broken down on the side of the road. Fixing the truck on the side of the road sometimes is their only option or they manage to "limp" home after a multi-day trip of deliveries while their truck is making noises as steam curls out from under the hood. The expense of keeping one of those rigs on the road isn't cheap! I've seen the anger, frustration and disappointment when they're laid over for a few days at a warehouse far away from home or far from their destination due to changes in schedule. They have an incredible need and desire to stay on schedule.

They can only drive for a certain amount of hours each day and sometimes their "off" time may be filled with other tasks other than rest or sleep so please, for the love of God, if you see a semi-truck parked on the side of the road, maybe with a driver slumped over the steering wheel, don't hold down your horn for the purpose of startling the driver as you drive by. Just slow down and move to the other lane if possible.

Right now our truck drivers can't even find a decent place to eat while they're on the road. The ones crossing the borders can't take their own food along so they must rely on convenience-store food and we all know how healthy that stuff is. You've all seen the hours-old hot dogs tumbling around on the rollers in 7-11. Yeah, that. How about those sandwiches that are vacuum sealed, with condensation dribbling around in the bag, and display an expiry date a few weeks from now? Yum. Was that mould I just tasted or am I just too damn hungry to care?

The people in the trucking industry, health-care workers, emergency responders, cleaning industry, food service and grocery stores/bakeries/butcher-shops/hardware store owners and employees are working on a day-to-day basis, praying to God that they don't catch this awful virus and worse yet, spread it to their families.

Oh sure, my generation got a kick out of many great movies involving the beloved highway tractors we know and love today. How about Smokey and The Bandit? Or even Stephen King's Maximum Overdrive? Weren't those movies a hoot!

Let's give a cheer for all those essential services that are being provided for the rest of us at this trying time!

We'll get through this! Let's KEEP ON TRUCKING!!

I Won't Always Be There....And She Was Right

I wrote a post about my mom awhile back titled "I Won't Always Be There..."about how she used to always say to young me "I won't always be there to say Rebecca, watch out". She used this every time I got hurt.

Eye rolls frequently escaped my baby blues at the time but I guess that's what happens when you don't realize what you've got until it's gone.

My mom died in February of this year.

She was right. She won't always be there and her saying that made me realize at a very tender age that I need to be independent. I can't expect somebody else to deal with my issues. I've got to take responsibility for things that happen to me.

This past summer my siblings and I got together to go through the old farmhouse. Box by box. Bag by bag. Book by book. Childhood memories came flooding over me as I found old pictures, jewelry boxes, clothes and dusty books. I wasn't surprised that she kept everything ever given to her. There were hundreds of birthday cards, mother's day cards and letters. She appreciated every single one. They were all in pristine condition too!

I used to tell mom to throw stuff away that she didn't use anymore but she insisted on keeping it...... although she was always willing to give it to somebody who'd appreciate it. Several years ago she started giving me a few things from the deepest corners of her house. She knew she wasn't going to live forever and she had this big ol' farmhouse full of stuff. I would go for a visit to Manitoba and come back home with the back of my truck filled with old china, beautiful old kitchen ware and daintily crocheted doilies. I kept what I could but she would be disappointed with me if she found out what just wasn't salvageable and had to be thrown out! Sorry Mom!

Anna Harder, originally from a small town in southern Saskatchewan, was somebody I wished I'd known better. She was a great help to her mother and spent most of her young life helping at home with household duties. At the young age of 19 she was married off.

Here's my beautiful Mom at 18 years old with her mother and her twin niece & nephew. She adored them!

Mom didn't talk about her young self very much. I don't think she was hiding anything, she just didn't say much about it. I guess it was another life to her or maybe she just didn't think anyone would be interested.

I only found a few pictures of young mom in the old photo box. In every one, she's got her lovely smile. I imagine talking to 18 year-old Anna and asking about her hopes and dreams. Surely she wasn't planning on having six babies and staying home to raise them all?...and working endless hours making meals, darning socks and doing yard work? Or maybe she did.

In all my years on this earth, I never heard Mom say "I should've stayed in school and become a _____" or "I feel like travelling somewhere". She never complained about carrying armfuls of chopped wood or buckets of coal across the big farm yard in the wee hours of a Manitoba winter.

She said "It needs to be done".

Whenever I pull up a picture of Mom in my head, I always see her smiling or at the very least, a smirk.....as if she had a private thought running through her head and wasn't about to give it up.

This is how I remember Mom. Still beautiful. 

It was a lot, I repeat, a LOT of work going through her belongings but a part of me is relieved that she didn't throw stuff out easily. Even though most of the "junk" (sorry Mom) got tossed into the dump, at least we were able to take one last look at it.

Father, Where Art Thou?

I'm always thinking about if my dad were alive, I'd be really interested in what he'd have to say about a few things going on right now. I know for a fact he would be totally baffled by what this world is becoming. He'd get so damn mad.

I'd pay money to see his reaction to the news that Utah is the first state to pass the Free-Range parenting bill. What?! My dad would just stare at me and tell me to repeat that because it's one of the craziest things he's ever heard of. Why would a government pass a bill so that your child can walk, alone, to the grocery store, play at the park or ride public transit without an adult assisting them. Do we not give our young offspring any credit for having brains?

Another one might be.....we have a distracted driving law in effect. Yep. If you're on your phone or putting on make-up while driving your motor vehicle, you can get a ticket for, get this, $287! Some places one cannot even drink from their water bottle with one hand while driving with the other. Dad would look at me and squint for a long time and then proceed to tell me how he used to roll a cigarette and steer with his knee AND wave to the police all at the same time! Well, Dad, I suppose people are not that talented anymore.

Ooohhh.....here's one that will knock his socks off! ....The legalization of marijuana! I don't even want to think of what he'd say about that! Isn't everyone a little cloudy in the head already?

There may be a law or two that he might approve of....no smoking in public areas is one. He had a heart condition and we're all pretty sure it was from stress and heavy smoking all those years.

I know ol' Abe would be very sad and teary-eyed about all those hockey players that were in a tragic bus crash in Saskatchewan. While sitting at the kitchen table, he would bow his head with his elbows on his knees and you would see the muscles in his jaw twitching while he's thinking about it. When he was like that, everybody left him be. He hated hearing about somebody needlessly having their life taken from them, especially when they had so much more life left to live. I think back to times when he was like this and I think he absorbed other people's pain and sadness.

Even though my father and I didn't see eye-to-eye, we'd still have healthy conversations and I'd actually feel like we were on the same team sometimes. It was a love-hate thing. We always seemed to get each other riled up about something. He's been gone almost 15 years now and I find myself wishing he was still around just for the sake of NOT getting his advice.

The scary thing is that I'm finding I'm more and more like him as I'm getting older! Help me, Lord!

Bye Bye, Birdie

When my oldest son was about 7 years old, he wanted to sleep in a tent in the backyard one night. I was a little hesitant about letting him do it because we had lived in this city for only a year or two and were a little concerned about the crime here. I tried not to show my fear and told him "Okay, and I'll leave the back door unlocked in case you need to come inside in the night." That night, my husband and I helped him get settled in the tent, kissed him goodnight and went inside to get ready for bed ourselves. It was a restless night for me. At about six a.m., Brody came running into the house, stood by my bedside and whispered really loudly "I did it, Mom!" He was so so proud of himself!

Brody's Grade 1 Picture

Now Brody is moving almost across the country to Ontario travelling in a van that he has fashioned into a camper. I don't know when I will see him again. I will miss him dearly but I know this is something he needs to do. After all, he's 21 years old, working night shifts slinging burgers at Denny's...who wouldn't want something else in life?

I can't help thinking of the time when he was this little boy determined to sleep in the backyard in a tent. I worried back then about whether he'd be okay and I worry now. Motherhood isn't easy.

Below my worry, I'm excited for him. He is young, single and nothing is holding him here. I want to hug him and not let him go, but that wouldn't be fair to him. Brody is craving adventure--I see it in his eyes. He's got a friend living in the area where he'd like to go so I know he won't be totally alone. He also enjoys his own company and I know will enjoy trying and seeing new things. The girl who stole his heart is out east too. She's a lovely girl that still holds his heart although they broke up a couple of years ago. They still talk...a lot! (Maybe one day they'll let me write their story.)

The day he left, it was a windy cloudy rainy cool day....the kind of day for a funeral....you know what kind of day I'm talking about. My heart ached all day as I was thinking of Brody, alone, sleeping in his van somewhere along the TransCanada highway. I can't help wondering "Did we teach him well enough to handle whatever may happen on this trip?"

I'm confident that we did.

A Mother Can Brag, Right?

My baby girl just turned 14 years old. Fourteen I said. She's starting high school in the fall.

When she was little, we thought she was the prettiest little girl in the world.....and she still is. We even considered chaining her up at home--never letting her go anywhere---so nobody could break her heart. That is, until, she was about 5 or 6 and she said her first vulgar word--my fault---totally my fault--sorry about that.

She is a sweet heart. Raelynn is very soft-spoken and gentle. I see a lot of myself at that age in her...except for the sweetheart, soft-spoken and gentle part. I see her struggles and I wish I could take any hurting she's feeling away from her. But I can't.

She is very different than her fourteen-year-old friends. Her friends look like they're going on 18 or 20 years old whereas Raelynn actually looks younger than her 14 years. She will be asked for identification FOREVER. She's very mature for her age and is getting herself mentally ready to move out on her own one day. She can cook, bake and clean. She manages her allowance surprisingly well. She's getting phenomenal grades and has been on the honour roll in her middle school for two years now.

But look out! If she gives me a smile and challenges me to a game of ping-pong, I know some horns will start growing out of the front of her head any minute. She can get tough when it's called for.

Little things about her make me smile. It won't matter how many disagreements we have or how far away she will move from me one day, I will always see her eyes when she observes a beautiful sunrise.

I'm forever grateful that God chose me to be her mother.

...and by the way...she didn't want me to post a recent picture of her on my blog so the picture you see above is from a long time ago.

Christmas Time Is A-Changing

We became accustomed to young children waking us up at 4:00 a.m., then at 4:30 a.m. and then again at 5:00 and perhaps even 5:30. By 6:00 we'd drag our wobbly legs out of bed and gather around the Christmas Tree (often times before our first coffee of the day) squinting at all the bright lights that the children have flicked on at this ridiculous hour of the morning. We help the youngest, whomever that may be at the time, sort and hand out the gifts and the kids proceed to viciously unwrap the long awaited presents.With lots of oooohs, aaahs, thank-you-very-muches, and sometimes tears (usually due to lack of batteries in a particular toy) we make it through our annual Christmas morning ritual.

Things have changed over time and so this year was totally different. Mike was woken up by the canine duo at about 6:30 and took them for a walk. When he returned, he shoveled snow, fed the mutts, made himself a coffee and clicked around on the TV remote only to find himself a '70's movie with Jeff Bridges as an alien and waited patiently for everyone else to get it together. I crawled out of hibernation about 7:15, made myself a coffee and continued working on my crochet basket until, well, whatever it is I'm waiting for, oh yeah, for everybody else to get up. Our oldest worked a night shift and headed home to bed right after his shift this morning and informed us through texts that he won't be arriving at our house until at least noon because he's "dangerously" tired. (I get that!) The other two offspring nonchalantly start their day later in the morning.

When did this all change?

Whatever Christmas morning brings us now is okay. We have to face the facts--our kiddies are growing. We still (eventually) get together by the tree, open our gifts and I can still hear the oooohs, aaaahs and thank-you-very-muches (no more tears, thank goodness). You won't see huge piles of gifts under our tree anymore because many gifts have taken a turn towards the more creative side and are given to their recipients earlier or later than December 25th. (Besides, it was those nasty, battery-sucking toys that hogged all the room under the Christmas Tree.)

And sure, sometimes I miss being with family from other parts of the country but for the most part we enjoy our quiet, low-key little Christmases. We still enjoy a traditional cooked turkey or ham, mashed potatoes, and cranberry sauce....and don't forget homemade cookies and trail mix. We hang around the house, play games, talk and watch movies (and over eat!)


As I can only hope for grandchildren, like many women my age have already, ahem, I won't put any of that pressure on my own children. Christmases are just changing for us and honestly, if I will be looking for more excitement during the holidays, maybe it's time for giving back to the community .......volunteering at the soup kitchen? ....visiting people at the hospital?

Who knows what future holidays will bring!

Christmas Time's A-Comin'

Ah yes, the season is upon us. I've decorated the house...as good as it's going to get. I've started the shopping although I'm not as organized with the Christmas shopping as I should be. My list of giftees changes almost every year mainly because I'm sort of grinchy when it comes to buying gifts for people who I don't see very often. It's not that I'm not thinking of them. It's that I'm just not very good at keeping in touch.

Do not fear, my Martha Stewart-type friends, I really do have more than just a tree decorated.

 The most exciting thing for me about Christmas time is the time off I take from work and having the family home with no commitments for a few days. I like to do what I want for once whether it be bullying a family member to play a game of crokinole or just shuffling around the house and looking out the window every now and then.....or quilting....or reading.....or blogging. I may even make a few phone calls to my siblings (with a glass of wine in hand.)

This game is calling my name.

On my to-do list: buy more wine.

My favorite movies to watch during these holidays are Stand By Me, Planes, Trains and Automobiles and National Lampoon's Christmas Vacation. I don't like to go out in the cold during my Christmas time off if I don't have to and I enjoy eating copious amounts of chocolate. I'm unhealthy as it gets during this self-confinement period.

No worries, if you're dropping by my house for a visit, I will roll out the red carpet.....with wine and coffee stains maybe, but rolled out nonetheless. 

(Here's a stand-up comedian talking about when company would stop in 20 years ago as opposed to today. I can relate to it in so many ways! )

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0Swzvm-gXHg

But really, I'm not that selfish to think that these holidays are all about me, me, me. My Mennonite-ness taught me that Jesus is the reason for the season.  We can't forget that our women and men in uniform have played a huge part of giving us choices on how we want to spend our Christmas holidays. And of course I need to thank my parents. Mom and Dad raised a human being with common sense and a sense of humour...although I've been known not to utilize either one...but all in all, they did what they knew how to do.

Merry Christmas everyone! Stay safe and warm this holiday season!

What's Up Doc?

When the kids were little, every other week we were in the doctor's office due to an infection or bizarre-looking rash. Doc would send me off with a prescription or advice for the kids' ailments and off we'd go. As Mike and I are approaching middle age, it's us that always seem to be in the doctor's office with an infection or bizarre-looking rash. The only difference is, when we go to the doctor we are required to get blood tests, hand over stool samples and God only knows what else Doc has up his sleeve that day (besides our colons).

I think Doc has a colon-cleansing fetish. ......

Doc told me to eat a salad every day. I can do that .....I love salads! I may miss a day or two because, face it, I don't have somebody making my meals for me. Doc told me to take Metamucil every day. That I cannot do. I'm okay with the taste of it, believe it or not, but it's the painful side effects it has on me. Doc tells me I need to soak in the bath tub 2-3 times a day with epsom salts. Ummm, I don't have somebody to run my bath and yell "You're bath is ready, Rebecca!" so I'm shooting for 2 times a week?? .....maybe?? Doc tells me to drink more water. Ookaaay, if I drink more water my back teeth will start floating but I'll see what I can do. Doc says come back in ten days and tell me how it's going. Oh yeah, I'll come back. "I love coming to see you!" (I get the over-the-glasses look again.)

I know I need to exercise...doing stretches just doesn't cut it...especially for my heart. I don't want to end up like my parents  --  over-worked and out of shape.

I figured I did pretty good when I stopped smoking in 2006. I quit that nasty habit with the help of nicotine gum. Gum was probably not the best solution because then I was addicted to that for 10 years. When I talked to my doctor about it, 3 years into the gum addiction, he told me that it was better than smoking. Okay, good. My jaw took a beating all those years but eventually I got off of that too.

I know I'm getting older and for the most part I'm okay with that....although I thought I just turned 18 until recently when I couldn't find my reading glasses and they were on the top of my head. Hmmm. I was looking for those things for quite some time too.

Thankfully, hubby and I have never had very serious health issues but as we're aging and dangling around the half-century mark, we're seeing our health in a new light. But Doc, do we really need to go through all the colon-cleansing? I think he needs to calm down with that.....is this his addiction, I wonder? 

Who's Donald Drunk?

My dad died in December 2003. On the day of the funeral, it was bitterly cold. I mean bite-me cold...... -30 was the high temp that particular day. No kidding. Dad was 81 years old when he died and in his later years was a heavy drinker and grumpy as hell. Growing up with him was no picnic but even when we didn't get along, we still got along.

Although most times we didn't see eye-to-eye, we still had conversations. These conversations would get quite interesting and I wish I could thank him now because I have plenty of patience when speaking with people with hearing impairments and strong opinions.

If I could talk to him today, I'm thinking the conversation may go something like this:
"Knock, knock"
He'd look at me over his glasses. "The damn door is open"
"How are you?"
We would go through the usual formalities....how's everyone doing?....etc.
"Since you've been gone, some really weird stuff has been going on"
"Oh, really? What have I missed?"
"Well, our country voted in Justin Trudeau as Prime Minister last year."
"Who is this Justin? Any relation?"
"Pierre's son"
Dad stares at me for about a minute.
"What the ****? This country is going to hell in a hand basket. He's just a snot-nosed kid." Shakes his head.
"Not only that but the Alberta people voted in NDP as well."
"What the Sam Hill? What are they thinking?"
"Aaand the US just voted for a new president this week. Donald Trump won."
"Who's Donald Duck? Somebody actually named their kid that?"
"Close ...but no, Donald Trump" I say it slower and louder.
Dad stares at me again. "Donald's Drunk?"
"Pretty much.....Donald Trump. He's a real estate mogul. Rich bastard. Even paid for his own campaign. He's got absolutely no experience in politics and now he's President of the United States. Isn't that something?"
"They're all bastards, Rebecca, don't kid yourself."

Today I see where his train of thought was heading. Several years ago I didn't or didn't want to. I knew him well enough that when Justin Trudeau was voted in for PM of Canada, I could feel my dad twitching in his grave.

I sometimes look back at the few pictures that I have of him. He's really handsome...definitely a man. He was fearless. Worked too hard to keep his family fed, clothed and a roof over our heads. Back in the day, I'd watch him work on the farm and although he had a slim build, he had muscles popping out all over his arms and back. He could flip a 300 lb pig like nobody's business. He didn't work out--just worked. He was loyal and stubborn. He was easily irritated by hypocrisy and stupid people. Dad would go absolutely livid if he found out somebody was bullshitting him. He was an engineer at heart and the smartest man I've ever known. (Maybe it's the little girl in me talking, looking up at her daddy). He and my mom bought 10 acres of land in 1968 for $2000 and it took them 20 years to pay it off. (So those neighbors of my mom's, if any of you are reading this, and you'd like to have coffee with her AGAIN to discuss the sale of some her land....fuhgeddaboudit....it ain't gonna happen.)

Hmmm....I see a little bit of myself in him...and not the handsome or muscular part.

In 1941 or 1942, when my dad would've been about 19 years of age, and World War 2 was in full swing, the government and military boys came a-calling to my Grandpa's farm in rural Manitoba. All the conscientious objectors were collected and carted off to the Headingley Correctional Centre to pay for their crimes of not responding to the draft. Needless to say, my dad and some of his brothers were on that bus. Dad spent a year in the klink. "It was the most well-run jail at that time. Some of us even learned how to cook," he would say with a smirk. He said the guards loved having all those Manitoba farm boys incarcerated. I think he regretted the decision of not fighting for our country later on, but he never said anything. He saw how soldiers were treated by the Mennonite churches in our area and was very disgusted. (Another reason why our family stopped going to church, I think.)

So as I'm standing there in the graveyard on that frightfully (insert your favorite expletive here) cold afternoon in December, 2003 waiting for my turn to shovel his grave closed, all I'm thinking about is how damn cold it is and this is what dad would have done for me.

Turkey Hunting

I was not prepared for Thanksgiving weekend this year and I have no excuses. I figured I could get what I needed for Thanksgiving dinner the night before. What was I thinking? No, really.....I'm old enough to know that you don't run out and purchase what you need last minute at this time of year.

Since we were doing some business in another area of the city than where we live, we decided to pick up a few Thanksgiving dinner items at our favorite stores before we headed home on Saturday night. We checked several grocery stores and kept meeting up with the same pathetic, unprepared turkey hunters in every store we went into. We were feeling defeated after checking our fourth grocery store. After hopping back into the vehicle for the fifth time, my husband looked me square in the eye and said "Ham it is then?" 

On the way home that night, we decided to check the store nearest our home. With a heavy heart and thinking we would probably be picking up a ham instead, hallelujah, we found plenty of turkeys. Sigh.

WANTED! DEAD OR ALIVE
....PREFERABLY DEAD, DE-FEATHERED AND FROZEN

Fortunately (and thankfully), it all worked out and our family got together Sunday at noon with a cooked turkey and all the fixin's.

We played several rounds of crokinole (knips braat or knips dasch for my fellow low-german comrades), ate more, watched a movie, ate some more, played more games and ate more. (Cheesecake pumpkin pie is REALLY good.)

Of course there's many things we are thankful for but I realized, once again, how easily we lost sight of why we were getting together and celebrating this Thanksgiving weekend. It's embarrassing how we take advantage of everything at our fingertips and we would have had just as good a time if we would have had ham instead of turkey. 

It's Grandma's Way or The Highway

Anyone who has done genealogy knows it's time consuming. Several years ago I thought I'd try to find my family's history so I eagerly opened my laptop, searched for a website where I could hunt down my ancestors and, with shaky hands, keyed in some names. I was so excited! Well, if I should know anything about Mennonite history, I should have been aware that there were about 50-75 people with the same name that came on any given boat to Canada in the late 1800's. I totally understand why the people I know, who have done extensive research on their family's lineage, are retired. That's right...retired. They generally have a little more patience, can organize their time better and probably know more relatives and have connections to figure out which relative on the boat was their ancestor.

So I gave that up...for now.

This is my maternal grandmother. I don't know much about her. She looks like a no bullsh*t kind of lady, doesn't she? I feel like yelling low german expletives when I look at this picture too long. She raised many children and did a lot of cooking and cleaning. I know that in this picture she is about 65 years old. 

Elizabeth Harder was born in 1890 and died in 1968, which was a year before I was born. My family doesn't talk much about her and I don't know why.  I hear little snippets of stories about her but nothing that sticks to my memory bank. I know that this is a passport photo so that makes me wonder whether she travelled. 

My mom and I went looking for her grave about 8 years ago and we found it, unmarked, in the Winkler cemetery. Grandma's grave had not been visited, by anyone in my family anyway, since her funeral in June 1968. My mom and her sister purchased a nice little headstone and had it placed at her grave. 

I often wonder whether Elizabeth and I have anything in common. Oh, I need to talk to her!

Oh for the Love of Scouting!

We put Coleson in scouting when he was 9 years old and he has never looked back. I started volunteering a year later....I have looked back. I quit for a couple of years then jumped back in. I started off helping the leaders with Cub Scouts and then was registrar for for the group three more years. I registered this year as fundraising coordinator. I just couldn't stay away!

It's the camaraderie between leaders, parents and youth that I missed so much. I'm sure I gave the group commissioner a sideways look when he asked me if I was interested in volunteering back in 2010. I'm not the camping type but I found that one doesn't have to like camping in -40 degree weather to enjoy scouting! What a bonus! Paperwork and organizing things is more my bag anyway. 
Warning: One may develop wonderful friendships with other members and parents of the group. 

14th McKillop Scouting Group has an Investiture day at the beginning of every Scouting year where we invest all the new members. It's quite the ceremony! This year it was at Park Lake and all the families were invited to witness and be involved in the great event. Later, we all went to the corn maze a few kilometres down the road, got lost for awhile, petted some farm animals then enjoyed a weiner/marshmallow supper over a beautiful camp fire. Many youth and leaders made a camping weekend of it at Park Lake.....they find any excuse to go camping....but many of us just went for the day. It was so much fun.

I Won't Always be There...

I was hoping to write about something a little more upbeat this time around but my mother has gone into the hospital recently and my head has been filled with other thoughts. She's 84 years and she doesn't get hospitalized very often but when she does, it can be worrisome for us kids. This time she's dealing with infections in her legs and lungs. Living so far away from her, I must contact family to find out what's happening with her. If she's in the hospital for a couple of days, then I call the hospital so I can speak directly to her. At that point I just need to hear from HER how she's doing.

As a child, when I would fall out of a tree and get bumped and bruised, she'd say "I won't always be there to say 'Rebecca, watch out'". Today, when I think back, all I hear is "I won't always be there". She had a point and I probably should not have rolled my eyes. There's a lot of things I should not have said or done.

Being the youngest in the family and being born later in her life, I see her a little differently than my older siblings. We're not really close but we have a bond and, after all, she's my mum. Who cannot worry about their mum?