Happy Faces (Part II)

DAY 7:

Regina, Saskatchewan

(We found out that civilization can include hours of fun on the waterslide at the hotel.)


DAY 8:

Kenaston, Saskatchewan.

(Peter has a friend that grew up in Kenaston so we decided to stop and take a few photos to send to her. Small town that it is, Colleen came over and introduced herself. She gave us a short history of the town and then wondered if the kids might like some ice cream or a swim.....)


DAY 9:

Aunt Jean's house. Saskatoon, Saskatchewan.

(I have had many visits to my aunt's house over the years and one of my fondest memories is playing shuffleboard on the table that my uncle built. I probably played it for the first time when I was Juliana's age.)


DAY 10:

The Berry Barn, Saskatoon.

(Sheldon heads to the waffle bar to garnish his lunch. And, yes, I joined him seconds after I snapped this photo.)


DAY 11:

Dinosaur Provincial Park, Brooks, Alberta

DAY 12:

Dinosaur Provincial Park.

(Sheldon. Just. Can't. Hike. Another. Step.)

Later in the day we tried another hike with much more success.

DAY 13:

On our way to Calgary.

Just a little photo to let all the worried parties know that our van is doing just fine...... :)

Signs.

Today I'm reprinting something that I wrote in September 1995. A fitting tribute, I think, because today it has been 18 years since I lost my dad.


I am a great believer of fate. In fact, sometimes we look so hard for something we almost miss the small miracles happening right in front of us.

Three years ago, I lost my Dad. It happened at a time when he and I had reached a common ground - we had become friends. I had spent years co-existing inside a tumultuous relationship with my father, thinking of him only as our family's disciplinarian and breadwinner. It was many years before we had any "meaningful" conversations but once we started, I regretted the years that I had lost. I looked to him often for guidance - searching for a new job, renting my first apartment, changing a fuse, or baking bread.

When Dad died, I spent a lot of time crying for the times that we would never have together - our walk down the aisle, his first grandchild..... Not a day goes by that I don't think of him at least once.

Everyone learns sometime during their life that grieving is never easy. Losing someone close to you means losing part of your soul. I held on so tightly to my Dad: all the memories, the feeling of protection and security, the smell of his aftershave, the look of a rare note that he wrote and most especially - the sound of his voice. My biggest fear was that I would forget his voice. For the longest time, I thought I could hear him everywhere. Now I have to sit very quietly and concentrate to recall something I remember him saying.

As time passes, I accept that I may not hear his voice any longer, but I have found a way to make peace with his absence. Slowly, I am recovering that lost piece of my soul.

Around the time I was getting married, I became a little more consumed with finding a 'sign' that my Dad was watching over me. I kept thinking he would send me some sort of indication to let me know he was with me. Two nights before my wedding day I cried for all of the things I could never share with him. I wanted so desperately for him to see me get married and to be a part of the most important day of my life. So I looked everywhere for him.

Someone set a stolen car on fire just outside the house. But it wasn't a sign from him.

The cold weather gave way to a perfect Indian summer day for the wedding. But it wasn't a sign from him.

A wild rabbit showed up at our ceremony. But it wasn't a sign from him.

I just kept watching for something, anything, waiting to feel his warmth. And so I was married. And it was the best day of my life. By the end of it, I had stopped looking. I wasn't sad. I wasn't even disappointed. I felt sure that he was watching and I hoped that he had sent a sign even if I had missed it.

It was chilly and rainy the next day as my new husband and I prepared to embark on our honeymoon. Late that afternoon after we had said our last thank yous to friends and family, we were in the car ready to leave when my father in-law frantically waved to us and pointed towards the sky. We stopped the car, stepped out, and looked up. There above us was a beautiful, clear, double rainbow. Two full bands of colour - end to end. Tears rolled down my face. I felt the warmth. It was the sign from him. A gift from my Dad. It took my breath away.

As we headed out of the city, we stopped one more time at his grave, to leave a keepsake from our wedding. And as we stood there, encircled by a brilliant pink sunset. I felt, once again, finally and completely at peace.

Happy Faces.

DAY 1:

The Big Nickel in Sudbury, Ontario

DAY 2:

Sheldon on his scooter at Lake Superior Provincial Park, Agawa Bay, Ontario.

(His scooter travels safely behind his seat and we have managed to find a spot for him to use it at every stop - even the campgrounds.)

Sunset at Lake Superior Provincial Park

(Our campsite was steps from the beach so we had a beautiful sunset and then fell asleep listening to the waves on the shore. Heaven.)

DAY 3:

Wawa, Ontario.

(Yes, we also saw the goose but these were funnier....)

DAY 4:

Hammock play at Kakabeka Falls Provincial Park

(Not necessarily how I use a hammock but, hey, it works for them......until someone loses an eye.....)

DAY 5:

Morning coffee at the Metropolitan Moose in Kakabeka Falls, Ontario

(If it was a little closer this would be my home away from home. The saskatoon berry scones were to die for, the coffee hit the spot and the whole place had such character. I'd go back to Kakabeka just for the Moose.)

Unshaven at Whiteshell Provincial Park, Manitoba

DAY 6:

Leaving Manitoba

Can I tell you how much I am loving my camera? We have just as many 'travelling in the car' photos as we have of all the sights. Really, can you ever have too many photos of happy, sleeping children in the back seat?

Going, going, gone.

It's been a long time coming but we finally headed off today on our cross-Canada adventure. It took 4 hours to finish packing and 1 hour for the kids to say goodbye to their friends. We won't be gone forever but I guess it seems like that when you're a kid.....

Notice my red lug bag on the front seat?


We'd only been on the road for 90 minutes when we had to stop for lunch but back in the car, we rocked out to some tunes provided by a friend, snacked, played on our iPods, played a rousing game of "Beep" (more about that game later) and listened to Peter educate us on slag.

We arrived at our first stop, Sudbury, ON, and went hunting for the Big Nickel. (Fortunately it was easier to find than the milk and margarine that I sent Peter out for after we checked into our hotel....)

We'll be leaving bright and early tomorrow morning, heading west, and doing some camping. I'll be sure to check back in with an update when we return to civilization.....

Laughter and love.

I'm not a morning person. I wake up and take great pride in how grumbly I can be. That's my normal.

This morning, though, Peter succeeded in making me laugh. Like, for 5 minutes. Before coffee.

The back story: I've been working for months to plan our 4 weeks away. I have lists upon lists upon lists. Pages and pages of lists. Last night I asked him to pull the camping stuff down for me and he promised he would do it in the morning.

This morning: He comes out to the back deck where I'm reading the paper and asks me if I can make a list of all the camping things that he needs to pull off the shelves. And then he hands me a pad of post-it notes. Those little square ones. For my camping-in-the-Rockies list.

There's nothing like a good belly-laugh first thing in the morning.

Thank you, honey. This is why I fell in love.

All you need is lug.

My vacation officially begins today. I walked out of my building last night and I'm not going back until August 31st - it's a good life, this life of mine.

Driving home, in my gleeful state, thinking about the ice, cold Corona and barbecued burgers awaiting me, I felt like there was something missing.

As I drove closer to town, I realized what it was that would make my day perfect: a new bag.

Here's a little tidbit you might not know about me: I love lug bags almost as much as I love ice cream. I've got a few of them - each in a different size, each for a different purpose. They are practical, affordable and fun which is actually how I would define myself (well, except for the affordable part, unless it means I'm a cheap date, which I am. Or maybe a cheap date who loves run on sentences, which I definitely am. But I digress.)

Back to last night. I've been coveting a new lug bag for quite awhile and I realized that it would be just perfect to take on our holiday later this week. I hadn't bought it yet because there always seemed to be someone else that I should be spending my money on. But I decided on my drive home that I would stop at my favourite shop in town, knowing that the bag may or may not be there, and take my chances. Now I just needed to choose the colour - black (practical for all season use) or orange (just plain fun).

I arrived. I parked. I entered. With purpose I walked over to the shelf and found my bag hanging there waiting for me. The clerk then told me that those bags had just arrived and she had just hung my bag on on the shelf less than an hour ago. Serendipitous, or what?

Vacation + new lug bag = a perfect day.

O Canada!

There's something about our national anthem that kinda chokes me up. Whenever I hear it in person, without a doubt, I feel the tears. But then I'm instantly embarrassed by them so then I try not to cry. Which just leaves me making that scrunched up, ugly, I-won't-cry face. Not a good look, really.

Patriotism is taught to all kids, no matter where you live, at a very early age. For us, it started with those little paper Canadian flags hooked on to our babies strollers, later they learn the national anthem when they start school.

I remember the year that Juliana started JK. Christmas celebrations were over and many Canadians spent the rest of the holidays turned into the World Junior Hockey games. That year, we gathered around the TV one night waiting for the start of the game. As the first notes of "O Canada" rang out, little Juliana popped to her feet and stared at the rest of us. She stood straight, arms at her sides and said "You have to stand. It's O Canada". So we did.

And even though we laughed at her innocence, guess what else happened?

I made that face.

One final note: Canada Day should always include ice cream.

Happy birthday Canada!!