The Ivanhoe Cheese Factory

  


    This morning Elly and I ventured over to the Ivanhoe Cheese Factory.  For my kids this is a treat.  In the summer they often ask if we can go over to the cheese factory and watch them make cheese.  I feel very fortunate to live in an area with so many cheese factories.  Of the many cheese factories, Ivanhoe is by far my favourite.

    They have the neatest thing there, a huge window so that you can watch them make the cheese.  This is my kid's favourite thing about the cheese factory, other than the samples and the inevitable bag of cheese curds.  Elly stayed at the window the whole time we were at the store.  I felt badly for the workers because there were times that she was banging on the glass waving to them.  I wonder if they sometimes feel like zoo animals on display?  It really is neat to watch them make the cheese, an opportunity we may not otherwise have.

    The other excellent thing about the Ivanhoe Cheese Factory is the cheese samples.  There are cheeses that I would not normally try (I am not a risk taker, even on the small scale food area).  I am always a little embarrassed at the sample part.  Inevitably my kids act like they have never seen food and descend upon the sample like a pack of ravenous dogs.  I remind them before we even enter the store to use manners, but sometimes in the excitement they forget.  

    It is at this point I would like to talk about "cheese curd".  My husband's family lives in Acton, Ontario and had never had cheese curd before.  I had easily by that point converted my husband.  We had also converted my nephew who came to visit us for Canada Day.  So off we went with a small bag of cheese curd for our nephew, Matthew and a big bag to share with everyone else.  For those of you uninitiated in the ways of the cheese curd, the best cheese curd that there is has been freshly made that day.  It will have a delightful "squeak".  The "squeak" is the best part, oh and they should be eaten warm.  We pulled out our huge bag of cheese curd feeling like cheese curd missionaries, there to convert the savages.  Christopher's mom took a bite and made a face. "Not for me." she replied.  Each person tried the curd, each did not like the curd.  The whole time this was going on my nephew is shouting "You're crazy!", and "I hope they all hate them, because that's more for me!".  The funniest response was Christopher's 80 year old grandpa.  He ate one and then politely responded "Maybe on a biscuit".  I howled with laugher.  I then explained to him that we eat them like potato chips, he wrinkled his nose.  Maybe the love of cheese curds are a regional thing. 

    Today I purchased "Asiago Cheese" and "Parmesan Cheese", and of course cheese curds (don't tell the big kids because Elly and I ate the whole bag before lunch).  I abandoned the dry powder parmesan cheese a long time ago in favour of the bricks of cheese.  The taste difference is huge.  I figure if I am going to the trouble of making food from scratch for my family, shouldn't I use the best ingredients too?  I also like the price of their cheese, i.e. it's affordable.  My brick of Asiago was under $5.00 as was the brick of Parmesan.  Their Feta is also great and very affordable.

    Last but certainly not least the thing I like about Ivanhoe Cheese is the staff.  They are always so nice and friendly.  It is rare in this day and age to go to a store and leave happy, not just because of your purchases but because of the level of customer care that you received.

    If you find yourself traveling highway 62, or find yourself in the area, you really owe it to yourself to visit the "Ivanhoe Cheese Factory".  You will love it!  They also deliver.  When my sister was living in Red Rock, Ontario (near Thunderbay) she was feeling homesick.  For her Christmas that year I ordered her a Ivanhoe Cheese cheese basket.  That we she could at least taste home.  ivanhoecheese.ca

    If you can't visit Ivanhoe Cheese Factory, why not take a road trip and visit a local cheese factory?

It's Turtle Time...

    As you can see from the blood on it's shell, I was too late to help.  It's turtle time.  It's the season where I pull my car to the side of the road and pick up turtles and speed them to their destination.  I moved this little guy anyway, just incase ( there were no signs of life, but I'm not a turtle expert).  I don't understand these idiots that aim for the poor things.  I understand that you may not be able to safely avoid them, at this time of year they are everywhere, but I cannot understand willfully killing another creature for fun.

    I have many, many turtle rescue stories.  Most of them are quite funny.  There was the time when my mother and I pulled over to move turtles across highway 7, and an OPP officer stopped traffic to allow us to do so.  I'm not sure if it was for the turtle's safety, or for ours (I'm leaning toward ours).

Then there were two incidents last year.  I moved a turtle, but brought it over to the car for the kids to see it.  It peed all down my arm.  Who knew that such a small creature could hold so much liquid?  So I took the turtle over to the car, hoping that the kids would be as amazed as I am.  I knew that this would spur their need to help less fortunate creatures, and develop a bond with turtles (ok I thought it might make me seem like a cool mom).  So I brought this turtle to the side of the van for the kids to see, turtle pee running down my arm.  You would have thought that I had brought Freddy Krugger over to the car to say hi (for those of you unfamiliar with the Nightmare on Elm Street, you could also say I brought the Boogy Man over).  All of then screamed their heads off begging me to toss the turtle at the side of the road.

    My favourite turtle rescue story happened last summer, not because of the outcome, but because of the hilarious factor.  So we were headed camping at Algonquin ( Oh that misadventure is another story).  We were almost to Bancroft, Ontario when we saw this poor turtle at the side of the road.  It's shell was badly, badly cracked.  As we drove past I saw movement.  I made Christopher pull over to the side of the road so that I could see how badly injured this turtle was.  He grudgingly pulled over, knowing that if he didn't we would not be speaking for the whole trip.  I got out and nearly threw up.  It was still alive, but it's shell was cracked completely in half.  I just stood there, trying to decide what I could do.  I knew there was nothing that I could do to save the poor thing.  I also knew that I could not let him die an even more agonizing death at the side of the highway and slowly bake to death.  Over the side of a huge embankment was a small pond.  If I could just get the turtle to the water, then it could be cooler, and if there was any hope of it's survival it would need the water.  I stood there longer still trying to decide how to get it down the huge embankment without killing myself.  I decided that I could not carry the turtle in my hands for fear of hurting him.  I went to the car searching for anything that I could use like a stretcher.  My eye landed on a kleenex box, it would do.  I pulled all of the kleenex out and went back to the scene of the crime.  I very, very gently and carefully slid the box under, feeling like I might throw up (remember I am the person that gets queazy looking at the kid's loose teeth).  I then stood there for a long time again, trying once again to decide how I could get down the embankment without killing myself.  I stood there for a long time just contemplating.  As I was standing there, my knight in shining armor appeared.  My husband took the turtle from me, and took it down the huge embankment easily and jumped a fence to take it to the water.  He was my hero.  Together we had helped the turtle.  He finally got it.  "Sweet heart, thank you so much, I just can't thank you enough." I gushed.  He really was a hero to me at that moment.  I climbed into the lovely cool car, I had not realized just how hot it was outside.  The kids shouted up "That took a long time Mom.  Daddy was swearing at you."  "So you took the turtle just so we could get going".  My hero looked quite sheepish and off we drove.  In retrospect apart from how badly injured the turtle was, it was pretty funny.

    So I expect to be pretty busy this turtle season.  I usually am.  I can't imagine not wanting to help out the turtles.

PRIDE In My Daughter!

  Pride.  Unapologetic, so big that it actually physically hurts ... PRIDE.  This is how I felt about my oldest daughter last night.  My little girl who "was" so shy she could not make herself speak to anyone other than immediate family, sang a solo at her school talent show last night.  Not only did she sing a solo, she did an amazing job.
    For Grace this was such a monumental event.  I have always wished that I could take Grace's intense shyness for her.  Since her birth Grace has been shy.  Not just talk to strangers shy, but painfully shy.  People don't understand shy.  I remember the ever so helpful advice of idiots who knew nothing about shyness telling me I just needed to push her out of shyness.  I should force her to participate in uncomfortable circumstances ( I really wanted to push them) of .  To me this wreaked of child abuse.  I had to let her find her own comfort and go from there.  I have pushed her, but tiny baby pushes, and let her find her comfort, each time expanding her level of comfort.  Like the little train that could.  The worst part for Gracie is that she was an extrovert trapped in an introverts body.  I would watch her pained expression as she watched other kids do the things that she longed to do.
    Two years ago our local arts group (The Marble Church Art Centre / Tweed and Area Arts Council) offered a children's theatre program.  This theatre camp was run by a young professional named Tim Porter.  Tim's gentle manner allowed Grace to thrive.  When she began the program she was too shy to even talk to Tim in anything but a whisper.  By the end of the the camp, she was singing a solo.  The theatre camp allowed her to face her fears and come out uninjured.  After that she never looked back.
    So last night my little girl who until recently would not ask you for a fire extinguisher if she was on fire, got up on a big stage and sang for over 250 people.  My little girl who was so much braver than I could ever be (all my life I have longed to sing in public, but never had the courage).  Grace got up there and made it look so easy.  There was a moment when she stood there, and I thought that she was going to cry, and then she began to sing.  With every breath she became more confident.  She sang like a professional ( I say this not as a proud mother, but in an honest way).

    I stood there blinded by tears, barely suppressing sobs.  I had just watched my little caterpillar, not just escape from but explode from her cocoon.  The world belongs to her.  Nothing can stand in her way.  Pride, I feel such overwhelming pride and love for her.

The Hand Puppet Homework / Mommy Tries To Squeeze In Some Reading.

    Part of Riley and Rowan's homework while we were away on holidays was to make a hand puppet and a play.  This seems to be grade 2 project since both Gabe and Grace also made hand puppets in grade three.  They both made sock puppets.  This year I decided to bring my "A" game and make them hand puppets.  I did this on Saturday afternoon.  As you can see from the above picture I made enough for Riley and Rowan to each make two puppets and Grace and Elly to make a puppet.  Now before you start getting the engraving on my Mother Of The Year plaque, let me share why I did this.  Sure, it would be a fun activity for everyone, and it was.  The main reason, and I am not ashamed to say this, I thought it might buy me a half hour or so to read the last book in the "Hunger Games" series. 

    When we made our first stop in Watertown NY on vacation I purchased the "Hunger Games".  It was a good price and I like to try to stay current with trends (in other words I don't like feeling left out). The kid that rang me through warned me,  "Oh that is such a good book!!!!!!  I read it in one night, I could not put it down."  He said.  I thought, oh he's just a kid.  Turns out the kid was right.  I only had an hour or so to read each night, or so I thought.  I read until 4 in the morning, or until my eyes hurt to much to read anymore. I woke up like a sleep deprived zombie every morning.   I then had to pick up the second book.  I justified it to my husband by telling him that I was actually saving us money because it would cost us so much more at home.  On the last legs of our trip I bought the third book, I was saving us so much money, I don't know why he wasn't thanking me.  I read the third book in one day!  So as you can see I became very addicted and any time that I could notch out for my habit, I had to do.  I was Jones'in for some reading, well so to speak.

    So back to the puppets.  I had lots of pink flannelette and I had fabric markers.  I cut a simple pattern out of paper and then transfered it to the cloth.  It took about 15 minutes to sew them all up on the sewing machine.  As I worked I had little cheerleaders in behind me "Almost done Mom?", "What about now?".  Did I mention that they were cheerleaders who came close to being tossed from the team?

    The kids really did enjoy making their puppets.  They even gave them voices and had them interact with each other.  Unfortunately it took them all of 5 freaking minutes.  Because of that I did what any good mother would do, I made them popcorn and put on a movie.  It made me look like I was awesome, and really nice, but really it carved me out an hour of reading, yeah me!

One of the finished products.

The Easter Egg Roll.

  

 Easter is slowly drawing to a close.  It has been busy, and I am looking forward to having a cuddle with my husband and a glass of wine, well a glass of wine anyway.  It has been a great day, but I am ready to wind it down.
    Today the kids began their day with the treasure hunt that the Easter Bunny left them, then we headed to the Thomasburg Hall to enjoy our extended family.  For the last 32 years my Uncle Bruce has hosted the "Easter Egg Roll".  In that time it has seen many locations, but has always meant fun for the little ones, and a great way to connect with the whole family.  It has been an interesting evolution that began when my cousins were small, and has seen us all grow up and have families of our own, and some of my older cousin's families are nearly ready to begin their own families.  32 years is a long time.
    The day has many different activities.  It begins before Easter morning.  We decorate eggs, but not in the way that you may think.  There is a best decorated egg contest.  We are not talking your typical dyed eggs, oh no you are thinking too small.  No the best decorated egg is usually more like an egg diorama, and usually topical.  There have been years that is more like an art show, and years that you laugh until yu nearly pee your pants.   As well as having a "best dressed egg", you will also require a "racing egg".

Grace and Riley's best dressed eggs.

Uncle Bruce presiding over the Easter Egg Roll.

    I'm not going to lie, my favourite part of the day is the lunch.  Everyone brings something.  My Dad is can usually be found at the barbecue beside a second barbecue that is manned by one of my cousins.  Inside the hall are every type of salad and treat you can imagine.  The biggest fight/ draw comes from my cousin Matt's wife Emma.  Emma is Philippino, and brings this delicious dish called panzit.  There has been many a fight, ending in Aunts stealing from nieces/ nephews, cousins stealing from cousins, all to get the lions share of Emma's panzit.  We gather around the tables, catching up with each other.  Often I only see these members of my family once a year at the egg roll.  It's nice to see them.

    After lunch we all gather around Uncle Bruce's crazy ramp that has been rigged with a patch at the bottom full of nails, mouse traps and holes.  The goal is to have your egg maintain it's yolk.  I personally like to be one of the first ones out because it earns me a big bag of candy, not to shabby.  As you roll your egg down the ramp, the rabbid crowd shouts "trap trap trap trap".   Then they all laugh at you as your egg is destroyed.  My kids LOVE it!!!!!
    At the end of the day everyone hugs and kisses and calls it a day.  Thank you Uncle Bruce you started a great tradition. It's nice to have an excuse to get our whole extended family together, even if we are all nuts!

Easter Already?

    HOLY COW!!!!!! (please make a note that I said "cow" instead of what I my brain said).  I knew before we left for our vacation that we would be coming back to Easter, but still I feel completely unprepared.  Now Easter for most is not a big deal, but as you may already know, every holiday to us seems like a big deal.  I have not yet broken into the cold sweats, but I'm sure that they are coming soon.  There is so much do, and I may have run out of time.
    I am by nature a procrastinator, but not usually like this.  I think I have most things ready, but I know that there are a bunch of things that I have forgotten.  I need to shortly run out and buy a boat load of eggs, then the mess of decorating them begins.  The problem is that the car is still not unpacked from the trip, and the table is piled to the ceiling with souvenirs from the trip, as well as junk.  Take a deep breathe.  That is what I have to do, take a deep breath.  It is a strange combination that I suffer from, being both a procrastinator and a perfectionist.  To me everything has to be perfect.  I feel like if I screw one thing up I might scar them for life (perhaps procrastination and perfectionism are not the only things that I suffer from).  Intellectually I know that even if this holiday is a huge disaster it will not scar them for life, unless I go mental and physically scar them for life.  I find the intellectual voice is at this time being drowned out by the hysterical screaming of the perfectionist.  Deep breathe.
    Maybe I should make myself a list.  Part of the problem is that when we were away Christopher's work got stinking busy.  His first day back he worked from 10 am - 11 p.m.  This morning he left the house at 7:30 and won't be back until 6:00 that is provided no one else dies (my husband is a funeral director).  Long story short,  I am on my own.  So I am going to finish writing this and make lists.
    O.K. enough of my ranting.  There really is lots to do.  Easter really is a big deal around here.  The Easter Bunny traditionally leaves the kids a treasure hunt.  He leaves them clues that lead to the next clues.  At our house the Easter Bunny does not just hide their loot.  At some of the clues he leaves little things like tiny chocolates.  At the end of their treasure hunt they find the whole pile of treasure.  Traditionally the Bunny leaves them a basket filled with skipping ropes, kites, bubbles, chalk, as well as a few other little trinkets as well as candy.  I love watching their excitement as they run from clue to clue.  Sometimes the clues are harder and it's fun to watch them working things out.
    I guess this has been enough procrastination, I better get to work... wish me luck.

The Vacation Is Over - Bah Hum Bug!!!

     So here I am home.  As we speak I am doing laundry and cleaning my dishwasher.  I have to unpack, put things away, think about the week ahead, in other words back to real life.  I became a little used to having someone come and clean my room while I am away.  Yesterday I left the house and when I came back home my bed was still unmade.  I was about to call down to front desk, when I realized... Oh wait, I am the "staff".  I became spoiled.  Someone made my bed, I picked out what I wanted for dinner, and did no dishes.  And now it's all over, boo hooo hooo.
    We had an amazing vacation.  In retrospect I may have packed too much in, but it was an awesome vacation.  We did a small tour of Savannah, Georgia, saw alligators in their natural habitat (from the safety of our car), 4 days at Disney, 1 day at Universal, we visited a dolphin place, played in the ocean, visited North America's oldest city, picked oranges and played a the Nickelodeon resort.  To top it all off to take a little driving break near Harrisburg, Pennsylvania we stopped by Hershey World.  That is a lot to pack in.
    For those of you who have never been to Hershey, Pennsylvania, why haven't you?  It's free.  We took the tour.  A lot of years ago Hershey stopped their actual factory tours, but built a really fun ride.  My guys loved it.  We boarded our little car and were taken around the chocolate making process and were serenaded by anamotronic cows.  After the ride ended we were given a chocolate sample.  It was the great cap off of our vacation.
     Now my real life resumes.  My days will be filled with "have to's".  At least I had a two week break from reality.  I really do feel refreshed, and maybe it will make the have to's easier, I'll let you know.

Picking Our Own Oranges!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

  Every year for the last 15 years we have gone to Campbell's Orchards in Prince Edward County and picked our own apples.  It is a family tradition that we love.  There is something to be said for eating an apple that has just been picked that second.  We have not missed a year yet.  We love it so much that 7 years ago we planted an Empire Apple tree in our back yard.  5 years ago we planted a Macintosh Apple tree in beside it.
    How could we go to Florida and not pick oranges?  As you enter the Florida Welcome Centre they hand out free glasses of orange juice (of course when we arrived it was on a Sunday, so they did not have samples).  Oranges are synonymous with Florida.  Having said all of this, try to get someone in Florida to tell you where you can pick some.  Every single person we asked had that same blank face and replied "I have no idea".  In the end I found a place online just up from Orlando called "Showcase of Citrus".  This "pick your own" place boasts over 50 different types of citrus.  I sat in the car as we pulled up clapping my hands with excitement like I was 3.  When we were there they were finishing picking grapefruit, and valencia oranges as well as tangerines.
    We picked valencia oranges.  I was so excited.  As you leave the little store there are stacks of what look like lacrosse rackets at the door.   Apparently these are what you use to pick the tall oranges.  In the apple orchard they use ladders.  The first thing that I noticed as a skipped, yes you read that correctly, I skipped like a little girl, was the smell.  Growing up my mother wore orange blossom perfume.  For me the smell of orange blossom perfume is synonymous with my mother.  I stood still, eyes closed breathing in that smell.  At first I could not place that smell.  Was it honey suckle?  No, wait... ORANGE BLOSSOM.  The perfume smelled exactly like the real thing.  I just stood there in one place inhaling the smell of my childhood. The kids all ran around me, Christopher, who knows what he was doing, I just stood there, eyes closed, like the world around me ceased to exist.
    When we pick apples there are always windfalls.  There the apple are just lying beneath the tree.  I was shocked to see oranges on the ground.  It seemed so alien to me.  I felt like someone should be in trouble for wasting all of those oranges.  I wonder if they use the windfall oranges for juice like they do with the windfall apples?  Did I mention that they sold fresh squeezed orange juice like they do apple cider here?
    As we left to pick our oranges there was a sign at the door "please do not eat oranges in the grove, pay first."  When we were out in the grove I was excitedly picking all the oranges my arms could hold, when I look over at my husband standing there peeling an orange.  "You're not supposed to do that !" I tell him.  He looks sheepish and replies, "but I always eat the apples right off the tree, I just want to see what an orange right off the tree tastes like."  He gets his orange peeled and puts it in his mouth.  He has that expectant look on his face like he knows that this is going to be the experience of his life.  I am standing there waiting for the earth to move.  "and?"  his reply "this orange is really hot.  Turns out it's better chilled."  They really are better chilled.  In fact these are the most delicious oranges I have ever eaten.  The juice runs down your arm.  They look a little sickly, with their brown and orange skin.  I know that the oranges I buy in the grocery store have been sprayed to be orange, but still it takes a while to process that fact when I look at my fresh off the tree oranges.
    All and all, if you find yourself in Florida during orange season (November - April) find yourself a grove.  It is a great adventure that ends with orange juice running down your arm.

St. Augustine... Our Vacation Is Coming To An End.

    I can't believe it.  After our hundreds of hours of planning.  Months of scrimping and saving, our vacation is dwindling down to it's last days.  It seems unfair that something that has taken so long to come should end so quickly.  We leave Florida to return home tomorrow.

    After disney the rest of the vacation was planned around the things that I love, well some of it (if you take away the Nick Resort).  I love history.  You can't get too much better than St. Augustine a city that celebrates 450 years, also boasting to be North America's oldest continuously inhabited city.

    One of the nicest things about this trip was meeting up with my cousin Sandy and her husband Joe.  Sandy teaches (she's a professor) medieval history at the University of Florida.  She has also been to St. Augustine several times, she was a really great tour guide.  She made a point of pointing out to the kids the gates to the old city.  Riley thought that they looked like hardened oatmeal.  In fact it was seal shells that had been poured into the masonry. 

    What a beautiful place.  It was like stepping into the 1500's, well minus the cars and modern dressed people walking around.  I made a comment to Sandy that I was amazed that all of the old buildings were still intact.  There was a time when everything old needed to be demolished to make way for the future.  Sandy's reply was that what saved St. Augustine was it's lack of wealth at the time.  Because it was not an up and coming city, it was spared.  I am very thankful that it was not an up and coming city, therefore allowing us a glimpse into the past. 

    The city has seen it's more than fair share of blood shed.  It was settled by the Spanish, then the French came and were eradicated by the Spanish.  Then the English, each killing each other.  It comes as no surprise that "ghost tours" are everywhere.  It has not only been named "North America's oldest city", but also "North America's most haunted city".  One author states that "St. Augustine in the day is not the same St. Augustine at night."  This intrigues my husband.  He would love to a ghost hunt.  That is most certainly not this afraid of her own shadow's ideal trip.

     We ate a fabulous lunch at a beautiful place called "Harry's".  It was so nice to sit and catch up.  Because Sandy lives in Florida I only get see her every five years or so. We did not have a long visit, but it was a lovely visit.  We parted ways at the "Pirate Museum". 

        The pirate museum was fascinating.  It was reasonably priced too, which was a nice bonus.  The kids really enjoyed it, as did Christopher and myself.  We learned some really interesting information.  It turns out that Sir. Francis Drake, the man we know as an explorer, was also infact a pirate.  He was hired as a "privateer" by Queen Elizabeth.  A privateer is essentially a sanctioned pirate, as long as they steal from the enemy.  He was knighted for stealing from and killing the Spanish. Who knew. We were able to see one of only two original "Jolly Roger" flags in existence.  We saw real pirate treasure, and real gold deb-looms.  For a history nerd like myself it was fascinating.  They also had several pirate movie artifacts.  I highly recommend going if you find yourself in the area.

    It was a great day.  Oh I hate the fact that our vacation is winding down, it feels like it just started.

 

My Moral Dilemma

 

     Every time the Marine Land commercial comes on the T.V. and sings "Everyone loves Marine Land", my kids shout "Not our mom!".  They then follow with, "We'll never go".  The reason that they say this is because I am strongly against making animals that have an ocean in which to live, caputured, put into too small tanks and then forced to perform tricks for our entertainment.  It bothers me.  I am not a big animal lover.  You will never ever hear me ask if I can pet your dog, or ask you anything about your dog.  I may pet your dog out of obligation, but never by personal choice.  Having said that, I am very much against animal cruelty, well any kind of cruelty to anyone or anything.

Whenever I see the Marine Land commercial I shake my head.  My kids stopped asking if they could go, years ago.
    So here is where the moral dilemma comes in.  We are in Florida.  My Gracie loves dolphins.  She has loved dolphins since she first spied one in the ocean far off in the distance on a Myrtle Beach vacation.  That visit we went to Build a Bear Workshop and she selected a dolphin to make, and named it "Myrtle Beach".  Dolphins are her favourite animal in the entire world.  When I was researching our vacation online I came across this place ironically called "Marineland" in Florida.  They offer dolphin interactions at a reasonable prices.  Most dolphin interaction places cost the earth.  This was an opportunity that we may never have again.  I felt like such a hippocrite.
    Yesterday afternoon we went to Marineland and paid our money for our dolphin interaction.  I walked through the double doors and saw large tanks full of blue water and dolphins.  It stuck in my throat.  Were they happy?  Were these tanks too small?  By giving my child a thrill of a lifetime I had sacrificed both my morals and my humanity.  It felt like a very bitter pill to swallow.  Poor Christopher, I kept telling him how conflicted I felt.  To his credit he humoured me, "Why don't you ask them how they came to have the dophins?'.  I approached the woman at the desk with trepidation, afraid of her answer.
I tried to sound casual, to take the sting of accusation out of my voice..." How did you collect all of the dolphins, did you have them caught in the ocean?"  I take a deep breath afaid of the answer.
"Most of our dolphins are really old.  Alvin is the world's oldest dolphin.  Some of our dolphins have been born here, and some of our dolphins have been rescued.  The government no longer allows the catching of dolphins".  I exhale.  I still am morally conflicted.  I convince myself that the young dolphins do not suffer, because they have never known any different.  The real stinger is that their tank sits on a hill not 200 feet from the ocean.  The dolphins would be able to smell the salt, perhaps see their ocean.
    They called us for our dolphin interaction.  Gracie, Riley and I walked over to the tank.  Alvin was our dolphin.  He was beautiful.  The trainer told us not to touch Alvin until he had asked Alvin's permission, and told us where to touch him.  He gave Alvin a hand signal and told us we could touch his head.  I was expecting him to feel like warm marble.  He felt like a pool noodle.  I did not want to take my hand from him.  I felt a calm like I have never felt.  It was a quasi - religious experience.  I felt a blanket of calm warmth envelop me.  I was completely in the moment.  Then the trainer asked Alvin to flip over and let us feel his tail.  His tail felt like warm stone.  I looked at my girls and they had the same look in their eyes that I felt in my soul. 
     I thought that it would be a "cool" experience to see a dolphin up close, but I had no idea it would have such an impact on me.  It feels so bogus to hear myself say that it was the closest thing I have ever had to a religious experience that I have ever felt, and yet it is the truth. I am still morally conflicted about the small tanks and holding these beautiful creatures hostage, and yet I am thankful for the experience.