This past summer our family didn’t go an any big road trips, hop on any planes; or cruise on any ships. What we did do was have a wonderful adventure in our beautiful city and province. Spearheaded by my wife, Allison, we spent our two weeks of vacation traveling around Edmonton, visiting many city parks, playgrounds, and splash parks. We took some side trips to places like Drumheller and Hinton, but for the most part we were staycationing it up in good ol’ YEG. As a way of documenting our days, we took a family selfie for each day. Some were easy, some needed a little (read: a lot) of coaxing, but in the end, we created a unique visual record of our summer. There were some days that were non-stop activities, while others were a simple picnic in a park, but either way we had a vacation filled with fun, beautiful weather, and lots of love.
As any Edmontonian will tell you, it’s easy to get down on ourselves; as easy as a Canadian saying, “sorry.” I was one of those people, too, but more and more I am finding pride in our city. We have wonderful playgrounds, many of them erected through the hard work and dedication of our wonderful community leagues. We have great green spaces and free or low-cost programmes provided by the City, and even if you decide to go outside the city, there are many spectacular places that are a day’s drive away. Thanks to my wife and family for a great summer, and thanks to my city for continuing to reach for greatness while remaining grounded to the community.
Day 1 – International Street Performers Festival, Churchill Square, EdmontonDay 2 – Kids’ DIY Project, Skyview Home Depot, EdmontonDay 3 – Picnic, Borden Park, EdmontonDay 4 – New blue doors, Chinery House, EdmontonDay 5 – Picnic, Kinsmen Park, EdmontonDay 6 – Dinosaurs! Royal Tyrrell Museum, DrumhellerDay 7 – Nap, Chinery House, EdmontonDay 8 – Auntie Gordine’s House, HintonDay 9 – Famdamily selfie, Wild Mountain Music Festival, HintonDay 10 – Dancing to Delhi to Dublin, Wild Mountain Music Festival, HintonDay 11 – Hanging out with Jasper the Bear (the smaller one), JasperDay 12 – Spray park, Jackie Parker Park, EdmontonDay 13 – Poolside, Fred Broadstock Pool, EdmontonDay 14 – Spray park, Sherbrooke Park, EdmontonDay 15 – Rainy day, Chinery House, EdmontonDay 16 – In the boot, Wedgewood, EdmontonDay 17 – Going out in style, Chinery House, EdmontonDay 17b – Party’s over, Chinery House, Edmonton
This past Christmas I received a very unique and wonderful gift from my younger sister, Carmen. My sister gave me LEGO, but not just any LEGO; this was LEGO from my past. When I was growing up we had several different LEGO sets from the basic red blue and yellow sets to fancy castles. As a young boy I would spend hours in the front porch of my parent’s home building with LEGO. I would build and rebuild the specific sets, but I found myself spending most of my LEGO time exercising my imagination and creating my own structures and landscapes. As I grew older, I spent less and less time playing with LEGO. However, a tradition had come about in our house, quite organically, that occurred at Christmas time. It was at Christmas that myself, and my two sisters as well, would pull out the LEGO and rebuild the sets.
My Christmas present.
As I have said, we had several different sets, but my favourite sets were the space ones. I loved building those sets, but I also loved creating my own ships and bases using the pieces from the sets. The best pieces were the base pieces which were grey and had mounds and craters on them, and the scaffolding-like pillars that could be used as building supports or tail pieces for ships. Over the years pieces became lost, as LEGO is wont to do, and I would scavenge from other sets to compensate. When I left home, the LEGO stayed at my parents’ house. As the years passed I began to think about LEGO only in passing.
The cool craters.The cool supports.
Now that I have two children of my own, LEGO is back in the house. My daughter, Abigail, was quick to pick up LEGO very early on and I am constantly amazed at what she is able to create at only six years of age. My son, Graeme, who is three, is beginning to discover LEGO as well; and I find now that I am rediscovering LEGO myself. In addition, one of the programmes we offer at the Children’s Library I work at is a weekly LEGO club, and I have had the pleasure of hosting this club several times since starting there a year and a half ago. With the reintroduction of LEGO into my life, imagine my delight as I opened my gift from Carmen and discovered all three of the space sets, the original sets, completely reconstructed. It seems my sister had picked up the sets from my parents, went through the instructions, which we still had, and by way of online sellers, purchased all the missing pieces for each set. It was a Christmas miracle!
6930.918.6970.
A couple of days later, I set to work building my Space LEGO. I made it a point to include Abigail in the process, as she has clearly shown an interest and it was a perfect opportunity to share some quality time with her. As we worked on the sets I told my daughter about how I played with these very same LEGO when I was young. At the same time I was reminiscing to myself about the times I spent in my parents front porch. One specific memory that came back very strongly involved the space heater we used to have. My parent’s front porch, although enclosed, was quite drafty in the winter and so we had an electric space heater. I had the habit of sitting right up against that heater as I built with the LEGO on the floor. I would get so hot from the heater that my skin would get itchy and I would have to pull away periodically to cool my skin down. Then I would snuggle back up to the heater and continue building. I would spend so much time cross-legged on the floor that the circulation in my legs would get cut off. This meant that if I did have to change position, usually to get away from the heater, I would have to endure the pins and needles as circulation was suddenly restored to my limbs. Leaving a building session was usually painful and awkward as all hell as I would stumble around on legs that were completely numb, then sparkly, then filled with an agonising throb that would force me to freeze on the spot; even the slightest movement would cause a shock to go through my body as I waited for the flow of blood to normalise throughout my legs. These are the things that were going through my head as I was building LEGO with my daughter. Neat, huh? As we moved onto the space ship set (918) I came across a wing piece that had been chewed; this was most likely done by our first dog, Buddy. Buddy was an English Cocker Spaniel, and as I worked to fit this damaged piece into my ship I realised that this LEGO had once again brought me memories of my youth. I was unable to get the wing piece to fit properly; there had been too much damage; but as I looked at my ship I knew that I would always be able to find a particular joy in this busted piece of LEGO.
Construction.6930.6970.918.Base of operations.Flight check.“Sir. I believe one of the wings has been… well… chewed.”
It didn’t take long at all for Abigail and I to complete all three sets. Funny, I seem to remember it taking longer when I was a kid. Even though it didn’t take long, it was a special moment to share with her, and I want to thank Carmen for helping to create that moment.
A few days ago my daughter and I were building LEGO together. I was, of course, sitting cross-legged. As my wife called from upstairs to let us know that supper was ready, I knew as soon as I started to move that it would be a perilous journey up the stairs.
I had already started this post a couple of times, and each time I ended up getting bogged down with excessive wordage and tangents that trailed off and died slow painful deaths concurrently. I have also blogged about this in the past, but it’s once again on my mind so I’m going to try to keep this short and semi-sweet.
It’s Christmas time, and as it is Christmas time I will be wishing my family, friends, and people I meet, Merry Christmas; because it’s Christmas. I am not a Christian; I am not religious; I don’t believe in gods, messiahs, or poorly engineered censuses within Roman provinces in the ancient Near East. Yet, I wish you a Merry Christmas all the same, because it’s Christmas; and every other PC, accommodating, watered-down term seems, well, lame. I also realise that there are other faith traditions that celebrate this time of year, but other than using something broad like “Happy Holidays,” I will continue on with, Merry Christmas. For me, Christmas is about family and tradition. It’s about memories from the past and new ones in the making. It’s about decorating trees, opening gifts, and sharing meals. It’s about cookies and milk for Santa, and hay under the table and garlic under the table-cloth to ward of evil spirits. Christmas is about singing carols, working out which key to start off in. It’s about that feeling on Christmas morning that I experienced as a child, and now get to experience through the eyes of my own children.
I will be spending Christmas celebrating with my family as we carry on old traditions and create new ones. Others will be spending their Christmas celebrating in their own special way; some will even be celebrating the birth of Jesus. However you wish to celebrate, have yourself a merry little Christmas. I invite my fellow atheists to wish each other Merry Christmas as well. After all, we can wish each other a happy Thursday without getting all bent out of shape over Norse religion, can we not? Of course, the choice is entirely yours; but as for me, I will be keeping the “Christmas” in Christmas.
I haven’t posted for a little while. Seems I’ve been too busy getting old. Well, I’ve been doing other things as well, but certainly getting old has been one of them. A couple of days ago I turned thirty-seven (37). The fact of the matter is that I rarely think about my birthday, generally speaking. It’s often the case that my birthday sneaks up on me and before I realize it, WHAM! Yes, that’s right, a shit band from the Eighties starts playing in my head. Now, if that reference is lost on you, then maybe I really am getting old! Seriously, though, I was helping my five-year-old daughter with her bath the other night when she said to me, “It’s okay, Daddy. I can get out of the tub myself. I don’t need you to lift me because I know that you’re old now.”
“I’m not that old!”
“Well, how old are you?”
“I’m thirty-seven (37).”
“Daddy, that’s old.”
“Thanks, Abigail.”
Seriously.
I vaguely remember the feeling I had when I turned thirty-five (35). It was a somewhat more celebratory feeling, a feeling of distinction; a milestone, if you will. Compared to that, thirty-seven (37) seems rather, I don’t want to say depressing, but more, oh I don’t know, sobering; I guess. Forty (40) is sneaking up and it doesn’t help that I’ve been feeling tired and run down for the past week or so. I can’t even attempt to reclaim some of my youth by partying hard on the weekends because I rarely partied, much less partied hard, in the first place. It only takes a couple of drinks to make me loud and then very quickly dozy. While others are drinking into the night, I’m sleeping in a chair. Woot.
Yet, as my thirty-sixth (36th) year came to a close, I was able to find one thing that allowed me to reclaim some of my youth. This week we had a new fence installed in our yard. Of course, there can be no creation without destruction. Shiva taught me that; or was it Jean-Baptiste Emanuel Zorg? In any case, there was an old fence to destroy and I was a man armed with sledgehammer and pry bar, and I had family to back me up. As I was getting around to the business of smashy-smashy I knew that only one thing would be better than whacking down a fence with a sledge, and that would be kicking the fecking thing down; and kick it down I did! Well, a good portion of it. Not to sound too thuggish, but there’s nothing like the feeling of putting the boot to something you just want to get rid of (and now that I say it, I realize I really do sound like a thug). I even let my kids get in on the action, which, in hindsight, probably wasn’t the best parenting decision I’ve ever made, but, meh.
We made short work of the fencing, and it was fun to kick and smash the boards and railing. However, when we came to the posts we ended up getting stopped in our tracks by having to break up the concrete around the base. As I spent the next couple of hours hacking away with a pickaxe, suffering from the reverberating handle and the shrapnel that was flying into my face, suddenly my delightful romp turned into a laborious task. Suddenly, I felt thirty-seven (37) again.
Ah, well. Maybe I can set up a chair in front of my house and shake my fist at the kids that go by. If I’m going to get old, I might as well embrace it.
Time to bring the hammer down
Stompy-stompy
Kickin’ it old school
It’s the bee’s kness, all this destruction and such
Hey everyone! It’s a good old fashioned fence stomping. Bring the kids down!
I had my shower interrupted this morning by my two-and-a-half-year-old son. I was hoping to get my shower in before he got up, but a repeated knocking at his door alerted me to Graeme’s wakened state. I opened his door and asked if he would like to wait in our bed whilst I showered. He responded, “Mommy? Mommy sweeping? Mommy? Mommy bed?” I explained that “Mommy’s not here” as she is currently visiting her uncle and aunt in Arizona. Well, this didn’t sit all that well with Graeme as he ran out of our room whining. I asked if he would, perhaps, like to sit on the couch instead. Graeme countered with, “Dee? Dee? Yabba?” I, of course, knew this to mean, “I will gladly sit on the couch if you would be so kind as to queue up an episode of Yo Gabba Gabba, featuring my all-time favourite personality, DJ Lance Rock. Please.” I obliged.
With Graeme seemingly appeased, I went about the business of my shower. I was just about to put shampoo in my hair when I heard Graeme calling out something. I couldn’t make out what it was over the shower so I called out to him, “Graeme! I’m in here!” A few seconds later Graeme came into the bathroom and pulled back the shower curtain, “Hone! Hone!”
“I don’t know where the phone is.”
“Hone!”
“Look, I don’t know where your phone is. Can I finish my shower?”
“No! Hone!”
This carried on for some time with me trying desperately to keep the shower curtain closed while Graeme kept pulling it open. Suddenly, I heard the faint tones of a synthetic guitar strumming the same chords over and over. My mobile! I’ve been using my iPhone as my alarm clock in the mornings and although I thought I had shut it off this morning, I clearly had not. I had figured that Graeme was going on about my wife’s old mobile that the kids use as a toy, or the house phone that Graeme loves to monkey around with. Instead, my son had been trying to tell me that my mobile had been ringing incessantly, making it quite impossible for him to enjoy his programme. So I quickly grabbed a towel and turned off the alarm.
“There. Is that better?”
“Ye-ah.”
It was at this moment that I wondered if, at some point in the past when Graeme had been badgering me about something-or-other, maybe I should have asked if someone had fallen down a well. I also realized that, together, we did some pretty good problem solving for first thing in the morning.
… or perhaps I should say, erratum, as I went and ended the year two thousand and eleven with a cock up.
This is my wife; my beautiful wife; my amazing wife; this is Allison; and I had neglected to mention her in my year-end post. Granted, I had done the post on the fly, but that does not excuse this omission, and here’s why. If you’ll look at this photo, you’ll see Allison using her iPhone to take a photo (in this case it’s a photo of my daughter after her Christmas concert). My wife uses her iPhone a lot. This is not a complaint; this is an admission of my incompetence. You see, she puts much effort and time keeping our family’s life in order. She is on her iPhone quite a bit marking dates, arranging programmes, searching for savings, and communicating with the many parties that effect our household; and while Allison uses her iPhone as her PDA, I in turn rely on her as my organizer, planner, and memory bank, in addition to being my best friend, mother of our children, and the love of my life.
Recently I have acquired my own iPhone, and I hope that this will aid in my ability to manage my life better. However, I am almost certain that I will continue to rely on my wife’s organizational skills and tireless effort to keep the family running.
I seemed to have ended the year as an arse. I hope not to start the new year as one as well.
Although I had mentioned the wonderful support from my family, I neglected to pass on the inspiring words of my beautiful, wonderful, loving wife as I left that morning for the marathon.
“Go out there and do your best; and remember, if it starts to hurt – grow a pair.”
Thanks, my love, for those words of encouragement. I was determined to return, bollocks intact, at all cost.
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