Sunday, June 26, 2011
Hooliganting: Whodunnit?
Hooliganting: Whodunnit?: "I have broken out the tweed jacket. I have my pipe and the smoke is billowing out of the ashtipped end. Carefully, I place the bowler hat on..."
Whodunnit?
I have broken out the tweed jacket. I have my pipe and the smoke is billowing out of the ashtipped end. Carefully, I place the bowler hat on my head and inspect...yes, the dectective is on the loose. Noiselessly, I start the investigation.
What am I looking for? Clues, of course! There are mysteries afoot everywhere in my humble abode. There was the bandit that drew crowns on the carpet. Perhaps there is a princess in the house? Maybe, it was the marker for buried treasure? There was the markings on the pavement in front of my van. P for parking in the glittery blue pen. Apparently, I needed more information to know where my van was supposed to be in relation to the sidewalk? There is the little red stick person figuring etched into the orange paint of my daughter's room. This figure has a delightful smiley face. Might I deduce that it is a reminder that little people live in the house? Or is it a reminder to invest in more magic erasers? The clues are mounting.
Add to this that there are ingredients for recipes that must be added to the clue box. There are frosted flakes scattered along the floor in a pattern that is reminiscent of Hansel and Gretel. Funnily enough, it even proceeds in front of the oven, but it culminates in what looks like a spilt box on the back deck sofa and tables. There is water for soup in a red bucket, and flooding the grass in the back garden. Add to that mixture some cheerios, grass, dirt and watermelon, and I think some chef was transpiring to add more fibre to their diet. There are also frosted flakes out on the driveway.
Back in the house, I find a trail of pink and white feathers. They are located along the floors and stairs and float with the wind every time the doors open in the house. There are dresses strung from the banisters. At the top of the stairs, there are some markers and coloring materials. Interesting. All this creativity and design, but no bandits to be seen. Further inspection shows that there are scissor marks in the curtains and older ink marks on the fabric of comforters and clothing. Hmmmm.
Turning my attention to the audio senses, I progressed outside to find three "singing" girls promenading along the pathways. They are loud and totally incomprehensible. BANDITS! I have found the bandits. You might be deceived by these stealthy beings that create such havoc in our world. They have hats and feather boas, and sport high heels. Flouncing along in flowing scarves and shawls, they are adventuring to the best of their ability. Little do they know nemesis is coming their way.
I apprehended those wee bandits and called them into account for their nefarious doings of the days prior up to the moment. I was flabbergasted to learn that "no one" was responsible, that "I don't know" must have been in the house. "Not me" was defended by the bandits and shoulders were shrugged all round. The blond bandit was rescued by her father who was willing to ransom her on the grounds that I wouldn't have to feed her supper. Mine on the other hand, were on the hook for cleanup despite claims to having nothing to do with the mess.
What I found absolutely fascinating from my investigation can be found in the following conclusions.
1) What takes five minutes to mess, takes five hours to clean.
2) Making up explanations is a team sport.
3) Not one of them tried a simple "I'm sorry."
4) When stared down, they offered more information that spoke more of their guilty consciences.
5) Parenting is way more tiring that going to work for the day.
How long is summer vacation this year? I'm not sure I'm ready for it yet.
What am I looking for? Clues, of course! There are mysteries afoot everywhere in my humble abode. There was the bandit that drew crowns on the carpet. Perhaps there is a princess in the house? Maybe, it was the marker for buried treasure? There was the markings on the pavement in front of my van. P for parking in the glittery blue pen. Apparently, I needed more information to know where my van was supposed to be in relation to the sidewalk? There is the little red stick person figuring etched into the orange paint of my daughter's room. This figure has a delightful smiley face. Might I deduce that it is a reminder that little people live in the house? Or is it a reminder to invest in more magic erasers? The clues are mounting.
Add to this that there are ingredients for recipes that must be added to the clue box. There are frosted flakes scattered along the floor in a pattern that is reminiscent of Hansel and Gretel. Funnily enough, it even proceeds in front of the oven, but it culminates in what looks like a spilt box on the back deck sofa and tables. There is water for soup in a red bucket, and flooding the grass in the back garden. Add to that mixture some cheerios, grass, dirt and watermelon, and I think some chef was transpiring to add more fibre to their diet. There are also frosted flakes out on the driveway.
Back in the house, I find a trail of pink and white feathers. They are located along the floors and stairs and float with the wind every time the doors open in the house. There are dresses strung from the banisters. At the top of the stairs, there are some markers and coloring materials. Interesting. All this creativity and design, but no bandits to be seen. Further inspection shows that there are scissor marks in the curtains and older ink marks on the fabric of comforters and clothing. Hmmmm.
Turning my attention to the audio senses, I progressed outside to find three "singing" girls promenading along the pathways. They are loud and totally incomprehensible. BANDITS! I have found the bandits. You might be deceived by these stealthy beings that create such havoc in our world. They have hats and feather boas, and sport high heels. Flouncing along in flowing scarves and shawls, they are adventuring to the best of their ability. Little do they know nemesis is coming their way.
I apprehended those wee bandits and called them into account for their nefarious doings of the days prior up to the moment. I was flabbergasted to learn that "no one" was responsible, that "I don't know" must have been in the house. "Not me" was defended by the bandits and shoulders were shrugged all round. The blond bandit was rescued by her father who was willing to ransom her on the grounds that I wouldn't have to feed her supper. Mine on the other hand, were on the hook for cleanup despite claims to having nothing to do with the mess.
What I found absolutely fascinating from my investigation can be found in the following conclusions.
1) What takes five minutes to mess, takes five hours to clean.
2) Making up explanations is a team sport.
3) Not one of them tried a simple "I'm sorry."
4) When stared down, they offered more information that spoke more of their guilty consciences.
5) Parenting is way more tiring that going to work for the day.
How long is summer vacation this year? I'm not sure I'm ready for it yet.
Thursday, June 23, 2011
Hooliganting: Ah there is summer
Hooliganting: Ah there is summer: "It is official despite school not being out yet, it is summer. The weather even decided to cooperate by being sunny, hot and over thirty deg..."
Ah there is summer
It is official despite school not being out yet, it is summer. The weather even decided to cooperate by being sunny, hot and over thirty degrees. There is lilac bloom scenting the air and there are riots of color pooling in the back garden. There are also riots of children running through the sprinkler and chasing the birds and butterflies that wander too close. The cats and dogs are keeping a safe and watchful distance from over the alley. Icecreams have been licked and sampled on fingers, faces, noses and toes. All in all, my clean house is no more as grass, dirt, crumbs and juice have joyfully splashed onto the floor. This is summer.
I have magically lost the will to negotiate tidiness with the kidlets. They are playing and they are happy. I have a book and have a sunbeam that melts into my orange cushy chair and I am taking great delight in wallowing in the warmth of the summer sky. I should be weeding the garden, hunting dandelions and stinging nettle but it seems highly overrated compared to the sprinkler and waterslide. There is copious amounts of watermelon being consumed and quite frankly, that will save on dinner because I haven't seemed to cook any.
Take that winter. Take that Spring (did we ever get Spring?). Today is also smoke free. We have been having a burning summer, with fires that creep and rush close to landmarks and then turn and sweep away. The largest fire in Alberta's history seems to have mood swings that send billowing sheets of smoke and then the wind changes and the smoke must go and visit somewhere else. The smoke has been thick but today, there is breezy wind and it is smoke free. I can be outside to pretend all is quiet and peaceful.
Summer is the time that Fort McMurray shines brightest. The trees are rich with greenery. The grass has finally filled in. There are smells of barbeque wafting down the street and gardens that spill over with plants. The gangs of children race from pillar to post while parents watch with languid calm. The rivers are running and fishing reigns supreme. This is summer, so I am going to continue to sit and wallow.
My deck is open - come visit!
I have magically lost the will to negotiate tidiness with the kidlets. They are playing and they are happy. I have a book and have a sunbeam that melts into my orange cushy chair and I am taking great delight in wallowing in the warmth of the summer sky. I should be weeding the garden, hunting dandelions and stinging nettle but it seems highly overrated compared to the sprinkler and waterslide. There is copious amounts of watermelon being consumed and quite frankly, that will save on dinner because I haven't seemed to cook any.
Take that winter. Take that Spring (did we ever get Spring?). Today is also smoke free. We have been having a burning summer, with fires that creep and rush close to landmarks and then turn and sweep away. The largest fire in Alberta's history seems to have mood swings that send billowing sheets of smoke and then the wind changes and the smoke must go and visit somewhere else. The smoke has been thick but today, there is breezy wind and it is smoke free. I can be outside to pretend all is quiet and peaceful.
Summer is the time that Fort McMurray shines brightest. The trees are rich with greenery. The grass has finally filled in. There are smells of barbeque wafting down the street and gardens that spill over with plants. The gangs of children race from pillar to post while parents watch with languid calm. The rivers are running and fishing reigns supreme. This is summer, so I am going to continue to sit and wallow.
Monday, June 20, 2011
Hooliganting: It Rains You Get Wet: Camping
Hooliganting: It Rains You Get Wet: Camping: "In our family growing up, there were three rules that I think actually started with Uncle Richard. Those rules of the road were as follows: ..."
It Rains You Get Wet: Camping
In our family growing up, there were three rules that I think actually started with Uncle Richard. Those rules of the road were as follows: 1) You bring it, you carry it; 2) It rains you get wet; and 3) No complaints. It would be rule #2 that is up for discussion today.
You see, this past weekend I was part of a crew that elected to go to Long Lake camping. This trip was booked months in advance. You have to book that far in advance to get a decent site near the water and to have options for camping as Long Lake is a very popular provincial park. So, after nearly 7 weeks of absolutely no rain, it opted to cloud over...and speckled that wet stuff from the clouds. There was trepidation in the ranks of the campers to be.
Well, except for the optimist, me. I gathered up my own crew and added an additional child to the mixture and drove the three hours south. We almost had to turn back as I came close to hitting a bear cub that ran in front of the van from the roadside, but thankfully I missed him. The sky was looming with wet weather. Those huge anvil greyish purplish black clouds that mean trouble of the windy and slanting rain variety. So, I set to and scrambled to put up the tents, blow up the air mattresses (always useful to float on if you are flooded out btw), and set up the kitchen tent (for the record, I have one that actually has sides so that you can stay dry). On arrival, I susses out the campsite and found that in the marshlands, there was actually two bits of high ground so that is where I shoved the tents and moved the picnic tables accordingly. Meanwhile, the rain held off. Yay. So, I settled in and watched the others arrive and set up sites. All in all, it was fine.
The sites were right on the water. We watched the ducks and the bird that no one knows what it was, and the beaver (muskrat?) swim as we were right on the water. There was peace and quiet under the shadowed skyline. We awoke to rain in the morning and basically had a quiet morning in the tent. The girls coloured and played in the tent while I fed them at sporadic intervals. The youngest went visiting so I took the older girls for a walk along the trails and talked about plants and animals that lived in the area. They did 5 kilometers without a squalk. The misty rain fell and the girls enjoyed exploring. We even found a brood of ducklings. On our return, the weather cleared and they played on the beach for the rest of the afternoon. In the evening, we had campfires and smores. Then nightfall happened and so did the rain. It poured.
It rains, you get wet. The rain was heavy in the morning so some of the crew decided that it was time to go home. My gear was wet on the outside, but dry on the inside so I opted to stay. I had to laugh at the ducks that were swimming in the "ponds" behind the tent. The girls played in the tent. The frogs sang in a loud symphony. And the die hards stayed despite the rain. I took the older girls for a walk to the beaver pond and noted that they had built four new dams over the winter. The pathway was flooded in a spectacular fashion. I came back and built a fire. Later, it cleared and I took the youngers for a bike ride to the beaver ponds so that they could see the handiwork. The evening was spent around the fire.
The next day, I finally came home. Right when I was supposed to. The kids learned to camp in the rain. It rains, you get wet and they had fun! Rain is not something that you need to be afraid of in a tenting situation. The girls managed just fine and didn't even have electronics to bail them out. (The batteries died). We did visit the trailer but for the most part, we were outside in the rainfreshed air and it was wonderful. There were no loud parties. There was peace. The rain sounding on the tent was theraputic. Dressed for the weather, it didn't matter how hard it poured. My point is this...it rains you get wet...and CAMP ANYWAY!
You see, this past weekend I was part of a crew that elected to go to Long Lake camping. This trip was booked months in advance. You have to book that far in advance to get a decent site near the water and to have options for camping as Long Lake is a very popular provincial park. So, after nearly 7 weeks of absolutely no rain, it opted to cloud over...and speckled that wet stuff from the clouds. There was trepidation in the ranks of the campers to be.
Well, except for the optimist, me. I gathered up my own crew and added an additional child to the mixture and drove the three hours south. We almost had to turn back as I came close to hitting a bear cub that ran in front of the van from the roadside, but thankfully I missed him. The sky was looming with wet weather. Those huge anvil greyish purplish black clouds that mean trouble of the windy and slanting rain variety. So, I set to and scrambled to put up the tents, blow up the air mattresses (always useful to float on if you are flooded out btw), and set up the kitchen tent (for the record, I have one that actually has sides so that you can stay dry). On arrival, I susses out the campsite and found that in the marshlands, there was actually two bits of high ground so that is where I shoved the tents and moved the picnic tables accordingly. Meanwhile, the rain held off. Yay. So, I settled in and watched the others arrive and set up sites. All in all, it was fine.
The sites were right on the water. We watched the ducks and the bird that no one knows what it was, and the beaver (muskrat?) swim as we were right on the water. There was peace and quiet under the shadowed skyline. We awoke to rain in the morning and basically had a quiet morning in the tent. The girls coloured and played in the tent while I fed them at sporadic intervals. The youngest went visiting so I took the older girls for a walk along the trails and talked about plants and animals that lived in the area. They did 5 kilometers without a squalk. The misty rain fell and the girls enjoyed exploring. We even found a brood of ducklings. On our return, the weather cleared and they played on the beach for the rest of the afternoon. In the evening, we had campfires and smores. Then nightfall happened and so did the rain. It poured.
It rains, you get wet. The rain was heavy in the morning so some of the crew decided that it was time to go home. My gear was wet on the outside, but dry on the inside so I opted to stay. I had to laugh at the ducks that were swimming in the "ponds" behind the tent. The girls played in the tent. The frogs sang in a loud symphony. And the die hards stayed despite the rain. I took the older girls for a walk to the beaver pond and noted that they had built four new dams over the winter. The pathway was flooded in a spectacular fashion. I came back and built a fire. Later, it cleared and I took the youngers for a bike ride to the beaver ponds so that they could see the handiwork. The evening was spent around the fire.
The next day, I finally came home. Right when I was supposed to. The kids learned to camp in the rain. It rains, you get wet and they had fun! Rain is not something that you need to be afraid of in a tenting situation. The girls managed just fine and didn't even have electronics to bail them out. (The batteries died). We did visit the trailer but for the most part, we were outside in the rainfreshed air and it was wonderful. There were no loud parties. There was peace. The rain sounding on the tent was theraputic. Dressed for the weather, it didn't matter how hard it poured. My point is this...it rains you get wet...and CAMP ANYWAY!
Thursday, June 9, 2011
Hooliganting: Dancing in the Dark
Hooliganting: Dancing in the Dark: "As many people know, my life has somewhat revolved around dance. The thing with dance is that it culminates in an extravagant production of ..."
Dancing in the Dark
As many people know, my life has somewhat revolved around dance. The thing with dance is that it culminates in an extravagant production of props, light and talented dancers. There are costumes and make up that brighten up each young dancer. From warm up and stretching to gossip and wreaking havoc on the rooms, plus the game of inventing excuses as to why they need to travel in packs, the excitement builds in the rooms.
The first half of the show was phased by a minor glitch when the power went out around the time that parents were to be dropping off children. However, it was back on shortly thereafter and the programme proceeded without a hitch. I can say now that I can wrap buns and bobby pin them in under a minute a piece. Who knew that would be a needed talent to develop?
I watched as they plotted and schemed and raided a seemingly bottomless vending machine. Parents, I think you don't want to know how much sugar your child consumed tonight. The vending machine itself took great pride in its accomplishment of only working five times out of every six. There was much pounding of the machine and wailing over the random theft of twoonies. They travelled in packs to the bathrooms and to the water fountain and to peer down the hall at the boys...not that they would admit to that.
Then, it happened. The theatre went dark and it wasn't on purpose. The power was out. We waited. And waited. And waited some more. Finally, it went back on 1.5 hours later. I find it interesting that it went on just minutes after a group of dancers in our room sat in a circle and prayed for the lights to come on. Talk about vindication of faith. The double dutch dancers were claiming that they energized the lights back on. All good stuff that meant a restart of the second half with the lighting in place. The first numbers had been danced under the limited lights of generator. Magic and pagentry and a very patient audience all played into a rather crazy night.
The question is...who was the lunatic that must have done something completely daft? I imagine someone drove into a power pole somewhere.
But I have to congratulate those dancers of the dark, who stayed awake and powered through a sleepy and tired audience to crank out a wonderful show. See you tomorrow when we do it all again...with the power on this time if you please!
The first half of the show was phased by a minor glitch when the power went out around the time that parents were to be dropping off children. However, it was back on shortly thereafter and the programme proceeded without a hitch. I can say now that I can wrap buns and bobby pin them in under a minute a piece. Who knew that would be a needed talent to develop?
I watched as they plotted and schemed and raided a seemingly bottomless vending machine. Parents, I think you don't want to know how much sugar your child consumed tonight. The vending machine itself took great pride in its accomplishment of only working five times out of every six. There was much pounding of the machine and wailing over the random theft of twoonies. They travelled in packs to the bathrooms and to the water fountain and to peer down the hall at the boys...not that they would admit to that.
Then, it happened. The theatre went dark and it wasn't on purpose. The power was out. We waited. And waited. And waited some more. Finally, it went back on 1.5 hours later. I find it interesting that it went on just minutes after a group of dancers in our room sat in a circle and prayed for the lights to come on. Talk about vindication of faith. The double dutch dancers were claiming that they energized the lights back on. All good stuff that meant a restart of the second half with the lighting in place. The first numbers had been danced under the limited lights of generator. Magic and pagentry and a very patient audience all played into a rather crazy night.
The question is...who was the lunatic that must have done something completely daft? I imagine someone drove into a power pole somewhere.
But I have to congratulate those dancers of the dark, who stayed awake and powered through a sleepy and tired audience to crank out a wonderful show. See you tomorrow when we do it all again...with the power on this time if you please!
The Lovely Lynne Leggo
To the lovely Lynne
As I sit here in the slumbering skies of Fort McMurray, I am trying to get my mind to understand that you are well again. Perfectly well, resting in heavenly arms.
I remember your first day working at the museum with me. You were older than I, and was able to shed light on the differences that I couldn't see. You were wise and kind. You were the one that became the anchor and the one that kept us in touch. Even though we moved on to other places, we were still linked through you.
There was a lively brightness to your soul. There was the candy jar on the desk that was never empty. Each season brought a new chapter to the decor of your area. We had dancing Santa and singing fish. There were loud Halloween jars, and spiders hung from the ceiling. You had a smile for everyone and a laugh that could fill a room. Yes, we knew her and called her the lovely Lynne.
Lovely Lynne also became the 'honorary grandmother". Many of us started families under her watchful eye. She had a desk full of photographs of her own grandchildren, and the adopted grandbabies too. I lost count of how many.
Lynne was full of humor, vibrant and dynamic. Passionately, she became the champion for the United Way Campaign. Later, she was passionate about raising awareness for Breast Cancer research. She battled, went into remission and now lost.
Rest In Peace. I'll miss you oh and I forgot (I don't know how) that she LOVED everything Elvis.
.
As I sit here in the slumbering skies of Fort McMurray, I am trying to get my mind to understand that you are well again. Perfectly well, resting in heavenly arms.
I remember your first day working at the museum with me. You were older than I, and was able to shed light on the differences that I couldn't see. You were wise and kind. You were the one that became the anchor and the one that kept us in touch. Even though we moved on to other places, we were still linked through you.
There was a lively brightness to your soul. There was the candy jar on the desk that was never empty. Each season brought a new chapter to the decor of your area. We had dancing Santa and singing fish. There were loud Halloween jars, and spiders hung from the ceiling. You had a smile for everyone and a laugh that could fill a room. Yes, we knew her and called her the lovely Lynne.
Lovely Lynne also became the 'honorary grandmother". Many of us started families under her watchful eye. She had a desk full of photographs of her own grandchildren, and the adopted grandbabies too. I lost count of how many.
Lynne was full of humor, vibrant and dynamic. Passionately, she became the champion for the United Way Campaign. Later, she was passionate about raising awareness for Breast Cancer research. She battled, went into remission and now lost.
Rest In Peace. I'll miss you oh and I forgot (I don't know how) that she LOVED everything Elvis.
.
Monday, June 6, 2011
Hooliganting: Summer Time Blues
Hooliganting: Summer Time Blues: "It's funny how the phrase get coined. There ain't no cure for the summer time blues is the song that I have heard played at parties over the..."
Summer Time Blues
It's funny how the phrase get coined. There ain't no cure for the summer time blues is the song that I have heard played at parties over the years. It baffled me as to how anyone could get the blues during the summer. However, I seem to be facing that reality at the moment.
The whirlwind of dance and rehearsals comes to an end at the end of the week. There will be three months off from the pagentry, exercise and sweat. There will be no more costumes and make up. The swimming lessons are wrapping up and the end of year activities at the schools has begun. In the wee hours of the morning, I will not be madly scrambling to prepare lunches and dinners, bags for school and bags for dance. Add to that, the exercise classes will be winding down. There will be peace and quiet in the realms of my world.
This is inevitably the time of good byes in this town too. Around town the for sale signs are popping up and the children are starting to wonder how many of their friends will be moving away over the summer. Usually, we lose a few and some we already know about. Our town is resilient in that we make good friends, fast friends and know how to stay in touch (thank you facebook...I know it pains me too). The children have a harder time accepting that.
Some folks are taking the opportunity to go on holidays for the summer months. This again is a wonderful thing but it leaves gaps in the social network that I enjoy. I spend all winter socializing and running at a flat out pace for most of it. It is starting to mess with my mind on the whole concept of thinking about "What on earth am I going to do with myself."
So. While I know that the majority of people would revel in the moments of quiet and time to relax, I am discovering that situation is terrible for me. I get lonely and I get BORED! I just don't do it well. Funnily enough, I think I have a talent for out and out chaos. I almost thrive on it (and she shudders with disbelief that the statement is true).
Now there is a statement that goes something along the lines of "if you do what you've always done, you get what you've always got." I tend to take the summers easy and camp and eat and have a grand old time but....I can't handle the results of this. I hate to break this to my friends but...I don't know how to slow down anymore so....
This summer means camping. It means going to the gym and I am going to need friends to come too. I have found Zumba and it entertains me. It means summer camps and playdates, going to the lake and generally causing mayhem. Sounds like winter? Yep, it's my cure for the summer time blues. Here comes a crazy (and still smokey summer). Sorry folks....you may as well just come along for the ride.
The whirlwind of dance and rehearsals comes to an end at the end of the week. There will be three months off from the pagentry, exercise and sweat. There will be no more costumes and make up. The swimming lessons are wrapping up and the end of year activities at the schools has begun. In the wee hours of the morning, I will not be madly scrambling to prepare lunches and dinners, bags for school and bags for dance. Add to that, the exercise classes will be winding down. There will be peace and quiet in the realms of my world.
This is inevitably the time of good byes in this town too. Around town the for sale signs are popping up and the children are starting to wonder how many of their friends will be moving away over the summer. Usually, we lose a few and some we already know about. Our town is resilient in that we make good friends, fast friends and know how to stay in touch (thank you facebook...I know it pains me too). The children have a harder time accepting that.
Some folks are taking the opportunity to go on holidays for the summer months. This again is a wonderful thing but it leaves gaps in the social network that I enjoy. I spend all winter socializing and running at a flat out pace for most of it. It is starting to mess with my mind on the whole concept of thinking about "What on earth am I going to do with myself."
So. While I know that the majority of people would revel in the moments of quiet and time to relax, I am discovering that situation is terrible for me. I get lonely and I get BORED! I just don't do it well. Funnily enough, I think I have a talent for out and out chaos. I almost thrive on it (and she shudders with disbelief that the statement is true).
Now there is a statement that goes something along the lines of "if you do what you've always done, you get what you've always got." I tend to take the summers easy and camp and eat and have a grand old time but....I can't handle the results of this. I hate to break this to my friends but...I don't know how to slow down anymore so....
This summer means camping. It means going to the gym and I am going to need friends to come too. I have found Zumba and it entertains me. It means summer camps and playdates, going to the lake and generally causing mayhem. Sounds like winter? Yep, it's my cure for the summer time blues. Here comes a crazy (and still smokey summer). Sorry folks....you may as well just come along for the ride.
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