Puttin' Around

One of my son's all time favorite things to do is go mini-putting. I think he likes it mostly because he usually kicks my keister!! We're all pretty competitive when it comes to our sports (and yes, if you were to ask Paden, he definitely would tell you that mini-putting should be an Olympic event!)


We had just finished doing the birthday party thing and thought it would be a great idea for the kids (and adults too) to blow off a little steam and go mini-putting. Paden was all up for that. He really enjoyed watching Riley playing and made sure when the teams were picked that they were on the same 'team'.
That's one motley crew.....Kailin, Riley, Paden and Mark. Not only were they out to get the lowest score, they sure were talking alot of smack to the rival team of Alissa, Colton, Dale and Jorden.
Even with the stiff competition, it didn’t mean that there was a bit of time to goof around.


Look out Tiger Woods!!!!

WWWHHhhhheeeeeeeeeee

There's nothing quite like the unadulterated innocence of a child's laughter, especially when they are having fun....

That is, of course, unless you're an adult - and then unadulterated laughter is even more contagious.... :)


What a great day!!!

5 Going On 50

I wish that sometimes I could take my son's energy, bottle it and sell it. I could make an instant fortune and retire - and retire well.

He's generally a pretty laid back little guy, but he has energy to burn...that is, unless it's 6:00 in the morning and I'm trying to get him up for school.
So he's sitting at the breakfast table this morning, half-heartedly eating his oatmeal, when he turns to me and says (with a total straight face), 'Mama, I need some caffeine, can I have a coffee??'

Apple juice up the nose.

Not comfortable.... 'What???' I sputtered. 'Why do you need something with caffeine?' I ask thinking at the same time, where did this idea come from?

'I need energy Mom!!'
'...then eat your oatmeal, that will give you plenty of energy.'
'But why do I have to eat my oatmeal??'
'Cause I said so'....oy! I'm sounding more like my mother as the days go by. (Not that there's anything wrong with that, Mom).

Milestones

They say that the older you get, the quicker time goes by. I totally agree with that statement, and I'll one-better-it by saying it goes even quicker when you count the years by how old your children are.

My son, Paden, turned 5 on the 21st of August. Five years old. Where did five years go? Poof! Gone. Amazing.

Five is big. Five is huge. Five means you're big enough to reach the bathroom taps without using a stool, big enough to get dressed all by yourself and most definitely to pick out said clothes without mom's help, big enough that you're too big to play in the 'little kids' play area at the mall, big enough to go to kindergarden.

Five means that most of your sentences start with "Mom, remember a long time ago when I was four.....?" It's all I can do not to burst into tears. Where did my little bear go? I mean, no matter how big he gets he'll always be my little bear, but wow!!! He's been in shorts all summer, now all his pants are too short!! Off to the mall we go, where we can get 'big boy' pants, and 'big boy' shoes, the list - the 'big' list goes on and on, but not to the play area cause he's too 'big' now.

Next week he starts kindergarden. I'll no doubt be a wreck, a weepy sentimental blubbering fool...I did it when he started daycare, I'll no doubt be the same next week. It's one of those right of passages moments. Paden's so excited about starting school, he's already met and loves his new teacher - his first school teacher. That's when all the baby pictures come out...there's the little egg roll in the nursery, pictures of firsts; first meals, first halloween (my little bumblebee), first christmas, first birthday, first steps, first skate, first bike, first fish, first boat ride, first soccer game...

There will be pictures to add along the way - first day of school, first dance, first girlfriend...but I'm getting ahead of myself, I won't have to count to those years just yet....not just yet...just not yet.

'If this had been an actual emergency'...

Well, this little post will most definitely give away my age, but oh well!!

Today at work, we have the fire alarm company coming in to test the system alarms. So my responsibility was to let everyone know not to panic, it was only a test.

Which got me thinking about those wonderful little blips we used to get on the television about the emergency broadcast system. Do you remember? It would show up on the tele (black and white, of course)and it was usually a large target on the screen (in different shades of black and white)...try as hard as I might, I couldn't find the picture no matter how hard I googled.

"This is a test of the emergency broadcast system. This is only a test. If this had been an actual emergency, you would have bent over and kissed your keister goodbye."...

Ah, the good ole days.

Mehndi - Paden style

My son Paden is a pretty creative little guy.
When I got home from India, he commented on my mehndi that I had done while I was visiting with my sister Danie. Thanks Dan, it was so much fun, and amazing to see such an artisan at work first hand.
I told him a few stories of my trip, and then he disappeared upstairs to play... or so I thought.

This is the result of his trip upstairs....'Look Mom, I can mehendi too!!'

Luckily for me, it was in washable marker. :)

Organized Chaos

Human nature. It's the one thing you can count on time after time.
A prime example of this is in any given airport on the planet. And to be honest with myself, I have to make the conscious effort not to do exactly what this example will demonstrate.

Okay. You're in the airport. You're getting ready to hear that your flight is getting ready to board so you can go to your destination.

'Thank you for flying ABC airways, we are now boarding passengers with small children and those who need a little more time boarding the plane'. HEY!! Hey you buddy. I don't see you with any kids. And you're moving pretty quick to the queue there, so you're obviously not handicapped. Wait, I take that back. You obviously have a hearing problem. Take a seat.

'We are now boarding our first class gold member glad your company is paying for the ticket customers'. HEY! Hey you buddy. Same guy. Sorry sir, you're seated in row 30, you'll have to wait for general boarding. Take a seat.

Now by this time, and if you've flown before, you should know that most airlines have this particular procedure. The next step is usually boarding from the back to the front of the aircraft.

'Sir. Please sir, we are boarding only rows 56 to 45.' Take a seat.

I don't get it. Do they think that they are going to leave without you??? Quick!!! He's not looking!!! Close the door!!! HAAAAAA SUcker! Now you're gonna have to walk.

It takes anywhere from 20-40 minutes to board a plane. Longer if it's not done in an orderly fashion. They won't leave without you. Did you not hear the dozen 'last call' announcements???

Take a seat. Take a deep breath. Take a pill.
Crap. Here he comes, up the aisle. Just my luck, he's sitting next to me.
Maybe I can pretend I'm asleep. Probably not, it's a ten hour flight, but now it will feel like twenty.

Oh Canada

Let me start off by saying that I'm not a big fan of Air Canada, and most times even if the fare is higher I will go out of my way to fly with Westjet (chalk it up to personal preference and disdain for the bureaucracy I usually experience). But I have to say, after spending two weeks in India, I was surprised at my excitement when I saw that little maple leaf on the side of that airbus. And I was surprised at my reaction when the welcome and safety rules were announced in English - first...wow! I could understand what they were saying... yes, the strap goes into the buckle and to release (blah blah blah). Not many people probably pay attention to these things when flying, but I was so happy to hear it in my native tongue. The flight attendant must have thought I was wacked to have this big smile on my face as she was demonstrating how the air masks worked! AND THEN I watched the CBC news. Thank you Air Canada.


Ah, it's the little things. And to most people it is a small thing, but being away in a country that is about as foreign as you can get, again I am surprised at, in the relatively short time I was away from Canada, how different my perspective is upon returning.

I love Canada. I've always loved Canada. I think more people should leave Canada - and I say this with the understanding that I believe that they would appreciate it more when they get back. While I do love travelling, I can't see myself living, for any length of time, in a different country. What can I say, I'm a Canadian girl.

Once the bags were in the car, we merged into traffic. The streets were clean and not strewn with garbage. Every one drove in their designate lane, and more than once did I comment on the quiet of the drive. It takes about a half hour from the airport to my house and not once, seriously, did I hear a horn honking, not one. I got home and poured and drank water from my own tap. The power didn't go out through the night. Things that we dont' even think about normally...and, now I do. I look at things differently. Maybe that too, in time will fade, but for now I'm liking the feeling - the feeling of knowing that Canada is an amazing place to be from, and a great place to live.

Made in India

It's my son's fifth birthday coming up on the twentifirst. When I left to come visit my sister in India, I made a promise to him to bring him back something very special from India for his birthday. I mean, how hard could it be??? When shopping in Canada, a lot of the things we purchase have the tags 'Made in China' or 'Made in India'. Do you think I can find ONE freakin' thing here that is appropriate for him?? Nuh-uhn. The problem, of course, is that they don't keep anything here, they ship it all thhhheeeerrre.

I have yet to see anything here that says 'Made in Canada'.

...my search continues.

Lost in Translation

Knock Knock...
Who's there?
B'nana.
B'nana who?

Knock Knock...
Who's there??
B'nana.
B'nana who??

Knock Knock...
WHO'S THERE???!!!
Orange.
ORANGE WHO????
.....Orange you glad I didn't say B'nana???


Now, I know for most of you that's a pretty lame knock knock joke... but when my soon-to-be five year old son Paden tells it, well you just can't help but laugh because he derives such joy in telling it and he always cracks up laughing at his own great sense of humor. That little squeal of giddiness gets me every time.

Telling knock knock jokes is quickly becoming a lost art. Think about it...when did you last hear a good knock knock joke???

Usually when you hear a knock knock joke, just about everyone has to respond with one of their own...

Knock Knock.
Who's there?
Tank.
Tank who?
You're very welcome!
(...and loud groaning ensues)


See what I mean???

Telling knock knock jokes in India, to someone who is used to speaking Tamil - let's just say it doesn't have the same effect...which is actually just as hilarious. No - it's more than hilarious. It's gut-bustin' funny. I'll be the first to admit that I am really (and I mean REALLY) bad at telling jokes (most who know me will happily confirm), and you know you're doing a pretty poor job when you have to explain a knock knock joke. But just thinking about it makes me have to sit back for a second cause I'm laughing at the memory of the perplexed look on Prabeesh's face.

Prabeesh is my sister's driver, and considering there is a bit of a language barrier there, the guy has a pretty good sense of humor... like when he suggested to drop my sister and I off at Ritchie Street or Pondy Bazaar to do a little shopping....trust me, he thought he was quite the comedian, but since those shopping districts are veritable zoos of tiny street shops and throngs of people all wanting to gawk and haggle and barter for the best deal - I'm sorry, but I did not see the humor in that - not one bit...but he thought he was being pretty funny...

Prabeesh found it pretty funny when my sister nicknamed MacGyver. Not having seen the 80's tv show, he couldn't understand why he was being compared to the swiss army knife/duct tape wielding secret agent...but watch him in action, he could make a pizza out of a paper clip and a stick of juicy fruit (ok, so I'm exaggerating slightly)...but he definitely knows how to get things done and he sure is a handy guy to have around when you're attempting to traverse the meandering streets of Chennai. I feel pretty good knowing that they have someone like that to ease them through their time in India.

Prabeesh found it amusing when I was taking all that footage of the marathon of traffic, and pictures of the cows having right of way in the street, and laughed pretty hard when I tried to explain to him why it was so mind boggling to me that people drive around the cows because in Alberta the cows would end up on our barbecues...although, I don't really think you'd be wanting to be eating a cow that hung out in traffic....seriously.

Yup, Probeesh is a handy guy to have around, and a pretty funny guy...but something gets lost in the translation... he just doesn't get the knock knock joke.

The Mending Wall

Something there is that doesn't love a wall,
That sends the frozen-ground-swell under it,
And spills the upper boulders in the sun,
And makes gaps even two can pass abreast.
The work of hunters is another thing:
I have come after them and made repair
Where they have left not one stone on a stone,
But they would have the rabbit out of hiding,
To please the yelping dogs. The gaps I mean,
No one has seen them made or heard them made,
But at spring mending-time we find them there.
I let my neighbor know beyond the hill;
And on a day we meet to walk the line
And set the wall between us once again.
We keep the wall between us as we go.
To each the boulders that have fallen to each.
And some are loaves and some so nearly balls
We have to use a spell to make them balance:
'Stay where you are until our backs are turned!'
We wear our fingers rough with handling them.
Oh, just another kind of out-door game,
One on a side. It comes to little more:
There where it is we do not need the wall:
He is all pine and I am apple orchard.
My apple trees will never get across
And eat the cones under his pines, I tell him.
He only says, 'Good fences make good neighbors'.
Spring is the mischief in me, and I wonder
If I could put a notion in his head:
'Why do they make good neighbors? Isn't it
Where there are cows?
But here there are no cows.
Before I built a wall I'd ask to know
What I was walling in or walling out,
And to whom I was like to give offence.
Something there is that doesn't love a wall,
That wants it down.' I could say 'Elves' to him,
But it's not elves exactly, and I'd rather
He said it for himself. I see him there
Bringing a stone grasped firmly by the top
In each hand, like an old-stone savage armed.
He moves in darkness as it seems to me~
Not of woods only and the shade of trees.
He will not go behind his father's saying,
And he likes having thought of it so well
He says again, "Good fences make good neighbors."

I remember reading this poem by Robert Frost in middle school, and the saying 'good fences make good neighbors' came to my mind today as we were driving through my sister's neighborhood in Chennai.

Most, if not all houses, have tall stuccoed walls with guarded gates for the vehicles to pass through. Many of the gates are very ornate with curly q's and vines. These wrought iron gates, to look at them one would think 'how lovely and delicate', but in actuality, they are sometimes the only thing that prevents vendors and onlookers from inadvertently trespassing on your property.

Driving past houses and looking past the gate to the other side, I can't help but wonder who these people might be, where do they work, do they have families, are they foreigners like my sister's family trying to find their way in a different country, trying to make sense of the culture?

I then remind myself that my house also has a fence...not guarded of course, but one just the same.

When I get home, I will go and speak to my neighbors. They are, no doubt, better conversationalists than my fence.

Hail to the Baba

For those of you who aren't Ukrainian, Baba is the equivalent of a grandmother.

Having lived in Edmonton for ten years, and having been exposed to ukrainian cuisine, I have to say that never in a million years would I have expected to have to come all the way to India to actually make perogies!! Perogies, pirogies, pyroghy....any way you spell it, those lovely little potato filled dumplings are the king of comfort food....add a little sour cream on the side, and yum-mmeee.

In Edmonton, there is no other place better than miss Wendy's place on the south side (those of you who still live there can attest) for the tasty little treat. She dishes them up with a side of cabbage rolls and mouth watering meatballs. Truly a delight.

My hat goes off to all the Babas out there, because before today, I had taken pirogy eating for granted...they were just always available, and like a junky needing a fix, I decided that today, of all days, I just needed to have some comfort food.

Now, keeping in mind I am currently in India - well, needless to say, it's not like you can mozy down to the neighborhood convenience store and pick up a bag of Cheemos!

"I can do this", I said. "I mean, really, how hard could it be?" Actually, with the right ingredients, not too hard at all. Only thing is, make sure you've got the afternoon booked off cause those little suckers, while worth the time and effort, take alot of time and effort!!

I understand why, now, that Ukrainian women (and men sometimes, to be unbiased) get together in packs (and I do mean packs) to make pirogies. It is definitely an art form I would hazard to declare. And it is an art form that is best accomplished by at least two working diligently, preferably three to four. Four Babas? Ooo, stand back and watch the potato fly!!

As I sat down at the dinner table and ladled my lovely little buttery dumplinged creations onto my plate, I looked around at all gathered around the table, and I swear I could hear angels singing....well, actually I think it was the dog's stomach growling....but oh well!!! it was pure enjoyment at savoring the fruits of our labor in the kitchen.

How do you say pirogy in Hindu??
It doesn't matter really...we made barely enough to go around and will be, no doubt, hitting the kitchen tomorrow for another round. Well, maybe not tomorrow, I think tomorrow the pizza delivery guy will be getting a workout!

I think I'll be having to take up Shumka dancing to work off the pirogies I did eat, but that's a blahg for another day!

Holy Cow!!

Okay. Stop me if you've heard this one before....why did the cow cross the road????
Haaaaaaaaaaahahahahaha, I crack myself up, Man!!!
So I'm walkin' across the road and it's like, too hot Man!! I think I need to take a bit of a break.
Don't try this at home kids, unless you're sacred of course, like me!!! I can plunk down anywhere, and I mean ANYWHERE I please. Most days it's just to yank a few chains :)... today though, it's just cause it's too dang hot to move too quick and too far. Yup, this looks like a good spot for the moment....
Hey Dude!!! Watch the tail!!!! These things don't grow back ya know!!!!
I think I'm going to have to mmoooove soon, watching all this traffic is making me nauseous....ever see a cow hurl??? Hey, that reminds me of a joke I once heard....herd?....heard?.....these two cows walk into a bar....stop me if you've heard this one......

In Transit

Let me just say that never again will I complain about transit problems in Calgary. When comparing transit from there to what they have in Chennai, well, it just does not compare. While on my morning commute to work, the only real thing I worry about is slow traffic. Everyone drives in their own lane, uses turning signals (for the most part), merges efficiently and waves to thank you for letting them in the lane. There is no such thing here in Chennai.

To say chaotic would be putting it mildly. There are no Dodge 3500 supercabs taking up space here. Most of the transit consists of bicycles, autorickshaws, motorcycles, ox driven carts, and your run-of-the-mill cars. There is no such thing as a 'lane', although there are markings on the pavement, my sister insists that it is 'merely a suggestion' - one that is not taken very seriously let alone consistently. And everybody, and I mean everybody, has a horn and isn't afraid to use it.


I thought it was funny because the only time we lay on the horn in Canada other than the occasional 'flip the bird' is when we're in a wedding procession! Even in to the late night, from my sister's house, you can hear the honking. Does anyone actually hear the horns anymore? My sister's driver insists that he doesn't...so what's the point?




Traffic in Chennai, with the exception of the traffic lights, is a free for all. There are no helmets (well, very few), no restriction on how many ride on a cycle, and cows have the right of way. It amazes me that I don't see more traffic fatalities here, but it seems to work for Chennaians. To think of the same chaos in Calgary, well let's just say, I don't think our hospitals could keep up with the bodies.



Having only been here for less than a week, I can surprisingly say, that I've already grown accustomed to it. That statement boggles my mind.

Now I understand our taxi drivers.

PS...This is Danie...watch the video until the very end. The ending is my favorite part :)