Godspell

    I love theatre!!!!!  I have shared this before, but it bears repeating, it is a rare treat that I get to the big city and enjoy a Mirvish production.  The reason I only get to a Mirvish production is because the cost is prohibitive.  There are no inexpensive tickets for Mirvish.  I have all my life wished that I had the courage to do theatre.  It has been a secret desire of mine for many years, it's on my bucket list.  I get to live through my oldest daughter Grace.  Grace LOVES, acting and singing.  I look at my little girl, and am so proud of her, and marvel at her courage, and talent.

    We are very fortunate in Tweed to have a young man named Tim Porter.  Tim began his own theatre company a few years ago, producing original Canadian works of art ( yes I am using art correctly, I consider the theatre to be art.  Beautiful, well crafted art), to much critical acclaim.  He has partnered up with our local arts group, to bring his theatrical productions to Tweed, to the Marble Church in Actinolite to be exact.  There, we people who enjoy small town (actually we live in a village) living can also be treated to the things we love about the big city, namely excellent theatre.

    As I mentioned my Grace loves theatre.  She gained this love of theatre through an extremely talented teacher, Tim Porter.  We thought that it would be a treat for Grace to go and see one of Tim's plays.  We decided on Godspell.  She was really excited.  I had taken her last year to see "Little House on The Prairie", staring Melissa Gilbert as Ma at one of the Mirvish Theatres ( I felt a little sorry for Melissa Gilbert, because the rest of the cast had obviously been classically trained, and while she had a nice singing voice, she could not master their sound or quality).  Little House on The Prairie got Grace hooked on theatre.

    When I had taken my Mother as her Mother's Day gift to see Stalkyard Hurts, we dressed up, and went a half hour early.  We were apparently 20 minutes too early.  When the handful of people came, they were dressed extremely casually... we were overdressed.  It was the same when Tim invited me to closing night.  For Godspell we arrived 10 minutes early, and were delightfully shocked to discover there was barely a parking spot to be had, and barely a seat to be had.  We also discovered that this time we had really underdressed, who knew.

    I feel that at this point I should share that I have never read the bible, nor to be honest, do I desire to.  I've tried, but I just could not understand it.  I know bits and pieces about the stories in the bible, as I do have religious family members.  I went to see Godspell under the belief that the music would be amazing.  I was correct!

    Watching this show was like going back to school in September.  There was our teacher (Tim), and all the kids that I was friends with last year (Karine Berube, Michael Collin Jones, Danielle Leger.. the class clown).  I was sad that some of my friends were in a different class (Stalkyard Hurt's Justin Collette, and Tricia Black).  There were also some new kids that I didn't know that first day of school, (Emilee Nimetz, Jaqueline Martin, James King, Joel MacMeekin, Samantha Marchinonda, and Sara Wilkinson).  Turns out the new kids became my new friends by the end of the first day, but I still missed my old friends.  I guess what I'm saying is WHAT A TALENTED CAST!!!!!  I know very few bible stories, but I know that this cast is so talented.  I was impressed by the way Tim made full creative use of such a small stage.  I was extremely impressed by the crucifixion scene.  "Oh God, I'm Bleeding", brought me to tears.  James King did a beautiful job.  This talented cast could easily be in any Mirvish production based on their talent.  Their voices blew me away once again.  They were all just so very, very talented.  Michael Collin Jones was amazing AGAIN.  Danielle Leger  and Karine Berube had a smaller parts in this production, but they certainly made their presences known, wow.  The new kids (well new to me) were amazing.  It's obvious that Tim knows talent.

    I was delighted to discover the night that we saw Godspell it was to a nearly sold out crowd, and that the last two shows are completely sold out.  We need to show Iana our love.  We need to show them that we appreciate their hard work, and extreme talent so that Tweed continues to be blessed with high quality theatre.  Godspell was the last production for the Iana Theatre in Tweed this season.  It will be touring the shows throughout Ontario, and if you have the chance you should treat yourself to a show.

    August 22 - September 1, Iana Theatre will be performing their original "Aleck Bell" at the Stirling Festival Theatre stirlingfestivaltheatre.com.  I think when I am buying the tickets to Grace's production (more to come on that, don't you worry your pretty little heads about it) of "Munsch on Stage", I should try to pick up some tickets to see "Aleck Bell".

   For more information about the Iana Theatre visit their website ianatheatre.com

Sand Clay

    Gracie auditioned for a part in the Stirling Festival Theatre at the end of June.  It was an amazing opportunity for her, the little girl once could not make herself speak to anyone other than her immediate family.  You've come a long way baby!  Having said all of that, Stirling is a half hours drive from us.  Rehearsals for her play would be for the entire month of July and the first week of August, therefore monopolizing our summer.  I wished her good luck in her audition, but secretly hoped that she would choke... she did not.  Grace was offered a role, much to her delight, and my grudging pride.

    The play is an amazing opportunity for Grace, but kind of puts a kink into the rest of the family's summer.  We are getting up to an alarm, something that we DO NO DO in the summer.  I load the four kids into the van twice a day to drive and pick Grace up, that represents two hours in the car for three children who gain nothing from this amazing opportunity.  I promised the kids that I would make it up to them, that their sacrifice would not be in vain, we would fill our summer with fun still.  This was a promise made before the running lead me into an exhausted stupor.

    Today I made good on my promise of summer fun.  For some time now I have been mulling in my head an idea to make sandcastles that will last.  I considered mixing white glue with sand, but that seemed expensive and messy.  Then I stumbled across this picture on Pinterest of a sandcastle, so I stole it.  I had very few of the ingredients that the recipe called for, so I improvised.

    I began my sand clay with my basic play dough recipe. 

1 cup flour                                                      1 Tbsp oil

1 cup water                                                     2 tsp cream of tartar

1/2 cup salt        

You combine all of the ingredients into a pot and mix them over medium heat.  Your arm will feel like it is going to fall off.  There will be times in the process of stirring that you will wish for death, or perhaps to stop stirring.  When the mixture starts to pull away from the sides, and looks much like mashed potatoes, take it off the heat.  Let it cool, trust me on this one, don't get ahead of yourself, because that dough is pretty hot.

I quadrupled the recipe, and added three cups of sand to it.  Surprisingly it turned out great!  

    The kids were really excited when I told them that we were going to make sandcastles that would last.  It kept them happy for an hour.  I gave them each a green paper plate to make their castle on.  I also found deep at the back of my cupboard, little Canadian flags, perfect for castles.  I found some shells that we had brought back from Florida.

    At one point Miss Smartie Pants Riley shouts out, "Hey Mom, I just made a fossil".  I wish that I'd thought of that!  It's too late now, but I should have lied and pretended that it was my idea, and you would say how clever I am.  It's clever all right, it's just not my clever idea.

    My plan is to let everything dry.  When it's dry I will mix glue and water to a half to half ratio and we  will paint it onto the castles and fossils.  I have to admit, the clay looks really attractive.  The kid's really had a fun afternoon, and it only represented perhaps 15 minutes of my time.

Bead Girl - Art in the Library

Riley's bracelet and rings that she made

    Recently our library received a grant that would allow local seniors to teach local children art at our library at no cost to the children.  The art classes are very different ranging from jewelry making, to photography, oil painting, sketching, right down to rag quilt making and quite a few others.  What an amazing opportunity for our children, and most especially for the price... free.

    I painstakingly poured over the sign-up lists as soon as they made their appearance at the library.  My Riley is talented little artist for her age.  She also really loves art.  She has so much natural talent, just imagine what she could do with some help.  I signed her up for jewelry making, oil painting, mosaics and sketching.  She was delighted.  I signed Rowan up for oil painting, sketching, and mosaics.  Grace was limited because she is rehearsing for a big play, so we could only sign her up for the mosaics and sketching.

    Riley took her first jewelry making class last Wednesday.  I expected her to make macaroni necklaces or some little kid lame craft.  I settled her into her class and then had to run to pick up Grace in Stirling.  The woman teaching the class was lovely, and she assured me that if Riley needed any help, she would help her.  I felt really guilty leaving Riley, but the alternative was to pull her out of the class, and that seemed unfair also.  So off I raced to get Grace, leaving Riley to her macaroni necklace... or so I thought.

Riley and Cindy Crowson

    When I returned to the library, Riley was sporting beautiful rings.  These rings were as beautiful as anything that you might buy at a high end shop.  Her little face was beaming, as well it should have been.  She was so excited about her class.  "Mom, my teacher is sooooooooo nice.  Aren't my rings beautiful?"  Every finger was adorned with a ring, shades of Liberace.  She was so excited to show them to everyone.  Grace tried to beg one off of her, "Sorry Grace," she said with a self important half smile "I would, but I fitted them to my own fingers."  She then set about explaining how she had done that.

The rings that Riley made by herself.

    This week Riley made a safety pin bracelet.  Once again it rivals something that you could buy in a store.  She is so loving this class.  This afternoon she came bouncing out of the car "Mommy she has half day workshops, could I go, could I go?"  The selfish me thought, "but I want to make pretty things!!! (put in a foot stamp here)".  I then had an amazing idea, what if near the end of the summer she invited some of her friends, and Grace invited some friends, and their moms, and we had a mother / daughter jewelry making party?  I have to give myself a little pat on the back for that one.  It seems like a great bonding activity and a perfect way to send off the summer, now I just have to see if I can arrange it.

    The lovely lady who is teaching the class is Cindy Crowson.  She owns "Bead Girl" and is situated in Deseronto, Ontario.  She also sells her beads and accessories online at beadgirlonline.com
It may have been a bad thing that I visited her website, because now I would like to buy pretty much everything that she has for sale.  The other problem is Cindy's, philosophy, she tries to price her classes so that they are fun, but not expensive.  My big issue with this, is that I have an addictive personality, and know that once I try jewelry making I will become hooked, and if the prices are reasonable (and they really are) , then I will spend more time with Cindy than I will my husband.  I guess that's a chance I am willing to take.

Please Daddy Can We Keep "Them"!!!!

Sir Squeaks Alot

    I am not an animal person.  I have already shared that if I am at your house I will pet your dog, not because I want to, but because I would look like a jerk if I didn't.  Having said all of that, I loved my pets.  We had to put our 14 year old dog down last July.  Maggie was perhaps the best dog in the world.  She was amazing, you couldn't ask for a better dog.  Towards the end she began to develop dementia.  She was no longer the gentle trustworthy dog that she had been, and we had to make the difficult decision to put her down.  I lost my 16 year old cat Percy this past February.  I mourned him like I would a family member, because that is what he was.  My Percy did not know he was cat, he thought he was a dog.  After the pets died, Christopher decreed that there would be no more pets.  I secretly laughed to myself thinking that my poor husband had finally lost his marbles.  I just sat back and let him think that he had a say.

    Last night an adorable little orange kitten wandered into the yard.  It was followed by it's almost as adorable tabby sibling.  The kids fell instantly in love.  They named them Ginger and Percy Jr.  Almost immediately we heard "Can we keep them?"  Christopher's response was "NO, we are not having any more pets!"  I secretly smiled.  I told the kids we needed to wait to see if they had owners.  We fed them left over hot dogs.

    Christopher made a fire in our fire pit for the kids last night.  They sat around the fire sharing stories, and picking out images from the flames.  They were out for at least an hour.  The whole time they were out, their little kitten friends were with them.  When the kids came in smelling like smoke and summer, they asked again, "Please can we keep the kittens?"  Daddy's response was the same, only he added "Pet's are expensive."  I secretly smiled.  "Let's see if they are still around tomorrow." I told the kids quietly.

    As I lay in bed, I heard rustling outside of my bedroom window.  I turned on the outside light, and carefully cracked open the screen door (we have neighbourhood skunks and raccoons, thus my caution).  Out on the deck, sitting on top of the covered barbecue were Ginger and Percy Jr.  I took them out a hot dog, and not so secretly smiled.  When I woke up this morning I heard that same rustling outside my window.  I opened the door and saw Ginger and Percy Jr.  in their same spots.  I took them out hot dogs.  When they were finished eating they scampered off.  I went back to bed.

    Coffee on the deck is a morning ritual.  It is a rare, but a wonderful treat for Christopher and I to have coffee on the deck alone.  This morning was one of those rare treats.  The weather was perfect, it was warm, but not yet oppressively hot yet.  There was a cool breeze, but not too cool.  The coffee was the perfect combination of sweet, creamy and tart.  In other words, my world was darn near perfect.  We sat there in the quiet with only the birds making any noise.  The silence was soon broken by  a squeaking kitten.  Apparently there are three kittens.  This one was a tabby, but smaller than Percy Jr.  I went into the house for more hot dogs, making a mental note to purchase cat food on my next trip to the store.  This kitten was lively, and squeaky.  I named it Squeaky, Christopher corrected me and told me that "his" name is "Sir Squeaks Alot".  As we drank our coffee Sir Squeaks Alot performed acrobatics for our amusement.  At one point he was juggling a piece of hot dog and lost his footing, and nearly tumbled over the side of the deck, to a roar of laughter from my supposedly pet hating husband.  

    When the kids woke up their first question was "Where are our kittens?".  I assured the kids that "their" kittens had been here in the morning, but had gone off.  They were delighted to discover the their kittens' playful sibling, Sir Sqeaks Alot.  They spent the morning throwing balls for Sir Squeaks Alot to catch.  The girls made him a baby bed.  They are in love.  I can see Christopher's resolve weakening.  He told me earnestly that we can't have three house cats (meaning that two might be o.k.). He then asked if two cats could share a litter box.

    I guess that I will need some kitten supplies.  I knew that Christopher would not see his dream of being pet free.  I figured it would have been a year or so before we were having the discussion.  I'll be honest, these kittens are older than I would have chosen.  I would have chosen younger, fluffier kittens.  The thing is, really we didn't choose them, they chose us.  I will give it another day or so to see if they have a home, but if they are still around tomorrow, it looks like our family just grew.

The Ghost Of My Childhood Self

    I am being haunted right now.  The worst thing is that I am being haunted by my childhood self.  That familiar tap on the shoulder from that shy insecure little girl, asking her grown up self "why?"  No matter what I do to take my mind off of it, that little girl keeps tapping my shoulder.  I worked really hard to lay that little girl to rest, but apparently that is not what she wants.

    Growing up I felt invisible.  If you were to ask any of my childhood teachers about me, they would ask if I had been in their class.   I was shy, and quiet (in school) and tried really hard to be invisible.  At recess I was not however invisible to the bullies.  I seemed to have a bully radio collar on.  The only thing that saved me was my cousin Matt.  Matt is two or three weeks older than me.  Matt was my saviour.  Every recess Matt, and his friend Mike would let me play with them (looking back I must have been really irritating just hanging around).  They were my protection.  One recess I ventured out on my own without them and wound up with stitches in my face.  Matt and Mike made sure that person was sorry for what they had done to me.  I'm not sure what made the bullies like me so much.  Maybe it was because I was so shy, or because I so desperately tried to be invisible.

    The torment followed me into high school, although it stopped being physical bullying by around grade 3.  For some reason still unknown to me today I made a perfect target.  I had a little lisp, and that made great fodder for everyone.  I became known as "Sssssistan".  There were other kids at school with much worse lisps than mine, but they were safe, their lisps ignored.  To the taunters I gave a brave face, and acted like I didn't care, but on the inside it ate me alive.  I would go home and quietly go up to my room to cry it out.

    I spent most of my adult years working hard to rebuild that little girl.  I worked hard to wall up the parts that I could not rebuild.  I put it behind me.  I became a mother.  I tried to exercise my demons through my children.   There would be no way that I would ever let that happen to my children (the funny thing is that I don't think I ever told my parents the Hell I was going through, I just kept it to myself).  I worked hard to make sure that my children could not be invisible.  I made sure that they were some of the best dressed kids in school.  I made sure that they stood out, but not in a bad way.  I put extra effort into treats I brought into their class, Damn it, people will remember my kids!

    I have worked really hard to suppress my memories of torment, until that is a couple of weeks ago.  It was the last day of school, and my daughter was receiving an award (actually both girls received an award, but go to different schools).  There in the row of parents was the boy who most made my life hell.  I wanted to spit in his face.  I wanted to shout obscenities at him.  "Who the HELL did he think he was to do that to me?"  "WHY?".   Instead I found a seat, and politely nodded to him.  It brought it all flooding back.  Everything that I had so carefully walled up, was back in the forefront of my mind.

The funny thing is that he was not some great hulk of a kid.  He was unusually small, and exceptionally homely.  He was the one who should have been bullied, and maybe he was.  Maybe I was just his verbal punching bag to make himself feel better.  He not only included the famous "Sssssistan", even though I had long ago conquered the lisp.  We were in the same class in high school.  I can't even remember the name of the class now, I just know that we followed the stock market, it might have been a business class.  At the time my Dad drove an old beat up Gremlin car.  My Dad worked from dawn until dusk.  He worked hard, but we never really had much.  On this particular day my tormentor asked our teacher what a Gremlin would be worth.  He did this with a smug little smile, all the while holding direct eye contact with me.  Our teacher gave a little laugh, not knowing he was participating in a bully job, and said that a gremlin was worthless.  My bully then looked at the kids around him and told them all with a laugh that was what my Dad drove, that was our family car.  I'm not sure how he knew what my Dad drove, I had no idea what his parents drove, for that matter even what his parents looked like.  Another time he was in my math class, and kept harassing me.  It took half the year, but by that point I was sitting with a bunch of really nice, funny guys who just happened to be on the football team.  They liked me, not in a sexual way, in a "they enjoyed my company" way, I fit in.  On this particular day I can't even remember what he was saying to me.  All I remember was that I had finally had my fill.  I looked over at him and said "Sorry, what did you say Bert?  By the way, where's Ernie?"  This caused all of my group to go into hysterics.  "He really does look like Bert!" they all roared.  That was the day I stopped being "Ssssitan", and he became "Bert".  He really did look like bert.  He was small, and had a long oval face, and most importantly an enormous unibrow.  That was the day he stopped bullying me.

    Here's the rotten thing about the past, it is just that... the past.  No matter how hard you try, you cannot change it.  The only thing that you can change is the present and the future.  That is all well and good unless there are things in the past that you would really like to change, or better yet, erase.   I guess that I am just stuck with the ghost of my former self, until she is ready to leave.  Even if I knew why I was bullied, it would not change the fact that I was.  Many of the decisions I made that effect me now as an adult were made because of my past.  They have made me the woman and mother that I am today.  I don't know if that is good or bad, it simply just is.  

    

Our Near Miss Of Godspell

I took this picture at the Tweed Canada Day Parade

     I love theatre.  For me there is not too much better of a treat than to go to Toronto and see a Mirvish show.  It makes me feel like a grown up.  I get lost in the sets, the costumes, the luxury.  I love that we get dressed up.  I love being transported away from my everyday life ( it also does not hurt that an evening to the show usually includes a dinner at a nice restaurant). Oh who am I kidding I love everything about it, except the price.  The price is prohibitive for a single income family.  Last year for my birthday Christopher got us tickets to see Wicked.  I had wanted to see Wicked since it was first out.  We drove across the border into Buffalo, New York to the Shea Theatre.  It was beyond my imagination.  

    I was thrilled when a local man, Tim Porter brought theatre to our little rural village.  I attended my first IANA Theatre production, Stalkyard Hurts just recently (Tim was exceptionally generous and invited me to see the closing night production.  I brought Christopher and we had a really lovely evening.  The second time I saw the show it blew the first time out of the water).  I was blown away by their talent.  This theatre company is exceptionally talented.  Their voices easily equalled anything that I would see in Toronto, but the price to see the production was comparable to the cost of a ticket to a Cinneplex movie theatre.  After seeing Stalkyard Hurts, I was really excited to see Godspell in July.  My excitement grew when my colourful tickets arrived in the mail.  I had purchased tickets for Christopher and I and Grace (our young actress).

    I discovered last week that I had no sitter for Friday night, the night we had our tickets for.  We decided that either Christopher or I would not attend and let Grace bring a friend.  I was putting on a brave face and telling Christopher that he should take Grace (on the inside I was not as kind).  He insisted that I should take her (on the inside I was jumping up and down), I gave him a half hearted "Are you sure?".  It was not as we had planned, but it would work, well for me anyway.

    Christopher came home from work last night and informed me that he had to work tonight (the Friday we had our theatre tickets for).  I may not have handled it with as much class or dignity as I would have liked ( it may have resembled a temper tantrum, but I will neither confirm or deny this fact).  After a small amount of time, I resigned myself to missing this opportunity.  I did not happily resign myself, but I resigned myself.

    I received a very exciting email from Tim Porter this morning saying that I could switch my tickets... YEAH!!!  I will get to see Godspell after all.  I am so excited!  The play is almost all singing, and may of the cast members from Stalkyard Hurts will be in this production also.  The cast of Stalkyard Hurts was amazingly talented, so I know that I am in for a treat!

    I am going to share a youtube clip of the rehearsals to tease you.  

ianatheatre.com

Patriotic Nails

    As you may know, I spend a lot of time painting my girl's nails.  The first thing that Elly's speech therapist does when we go, is to look at Elly's nails.  I spend at least an hour a week on my girl's nails.  On Canada Day, I feel like I really out did myself.  We got lots of comments, so I thought I would share how I did it.

The first thing that I did was to paint their nails with white nail polish.  

When the white was dry, I painted red up the sides.

When the red was dry, I used my fine tipped red nail polish and drew a line in the middle.

Essentially I painted a star on a stick.

The last step is the clear coat.  I have learned from experience that the clear coat is necessary, if you don't clear coat, then it wastes your time.  With no clear coat, it all wears off.

So now you know how to create Canada Day nails. 

The 131 Tweed Agricultural Fair Memories

    I can't believe it, the Tweed Agricultural Fair is this week-end!  The fair around here is a rite of summer.  I remember as a little girl the excitement of the fair.  We'd get all cleaned up, and could barely contain our excitement.  Growing up we lived along the highway (Mom and Dad still do), and we would watch the rides drive by.  When Dad got home from work we would beg him to go and watch them set up the rides.  We would drive past ever so slowly, and watch the traveling carnival people work their magic.  The anticipation was barely contained after that point.  We would always go on the Saturday, that was when the demolition derby was.

    As we drove up that Saturday, the pumping music filled every part of us.  We would have to circle around to find a spot, often having to park several streets over.  Mandy and I would run ahead, having Mom and Dad call us back.  We would go through the arena marveling at the amazing treasures that the vendors had for sale.  I was always a sucker for the feathery hair clips for sale.  It was many years later that I learned that they were not hair pretties, but rather roach clips.  We would buy fudge, that was a have to.  Often we would buy funny t-shirts.  That hard earned money in my pocket desperately wanted to be spent on all of the amazing novelties that I only saw once a year at the fair.

  

    We would meet up with our friends and go on the rides.  I remember one terrible decision to eat fries and candy floss before going on the Tilt A Whirl.  I was a pre-teen, I would like to say that I was just discovering that boys were cute,  but to be honest I was always boy crazy.  My friends and I wedged into the Tilt A Whirl, as is always the case with girls, much giggling transpired.  In the cart next to ours was the boy of my dreams, my cousin's best friend.  I had been in love with him since kindergarden.  I looked over at him, my head down and smiled that idiot smile.  Then the ride started.  Oh did the ride start.  It spun and spun and spun.  The fries and candy floss were desperately trying to see the light of day.  The ride stopped.  I stumbled off, the world still spinning.  I fought the good fight, but the fries and candy floss won, oh they won alright, all over the front of my shirt, right in front of the boy of my dreams.  Oh fair memories.

    The big deal of the fair was and to this day still is, the demolition derby.  All of my extended family would meet and sit together.  My little wheel chair bound Nana would sit at the rail so that she could get a better view.  There my beautiful, lady like (every other day, but demolition derby) Nana would shout at the cars.  The smell of smoke and gas filled the air, in an intoxicating way.  We would all sit with treats and steal from each other.  You would be about to take a bite of candy floss, only to discover a family member's hand reaching to steal the top off it.  When the derby was over we would top off the night with a ride on the bumper cars, trying to maim each other.  To me it is beautiful memories.  Those are memories that always bring a smile to my face, and long desperately for a do over.  I would not change anything about any part of it, I would just like to travel back in time and relive it.

.  

    Now I am the grown up who takes her kids to the fair.  We spend the week before the fair constructing their fair crafts.  They love it.  We panic as the Thursday night deadline looms ever closer.  The first thing that we do when we enter the gates is make our way to the white building to see how everyone faired.  We oooo and awwwww over each of the kid's ribbons, the greedy little beggers stand there doing the math, calculating their winnings.  

    Even as a grown up, the pulsing music is intoxicating.  It really would not be summer without going to the fair.  The smells the sounds.  The kids are now the ones meeting up with their friends and disappearing to go on the rides.  I still get super excited about the candy floss, but really do miss the throngs of my family stealing from me.  I think that the kids are old enough to take the noise of the derby, I think we might bring that tradition back.

   The Tweed Fair runs July 5, 6, 7, and 8.  It has been running for the last 131 years.  Over the years it has changed, but change is not always bad, sometimes it's better.  Admission is only $5 for adults, and kids under 12 are free!  Where else can you get that kind of entertainment for that little?  If you want to see more information visit their website. 

tweedfair.net

Kooly's ... The Beauty of Small Town

    I live in a small town.  I live in the small town I was raised in.  I "chose" to come back to my small town, after being away from it.  I love Tweed.  What other place can you go to the grocery store only to discover that you've forgotten your wallet, and they let you take the groceries home, or one of your neighbours offers to loan you the money until you get home?  Where can you go to the post office to buy stamps and be short a quarter, only to have the girl behind the counter lend you one?  When I walk down the street I smile to every person that I pass, and they smile back.  Sometimes it takes a while to make it down the street because I stop for so many conversations.  I love my small town!

    As I shared with you yesterday, yesterday was Canada Day.  My kids walk in the parade every year.  There is such a sense of excitement for them.  I think that they feel like celebrities.  As the kids line up, a volunteer comes around handing out "free" ice-cream coupons.  That is also one of the highlights of Canada Day for them.  Not only do they get to have a blast feeling special, they get treated to free ice-cream.

    Yesterday afternoon after the parade, after Gracie knocked it out of the park with her Oh Canada, we headed home.  On our way home the kids asked if they could get their free ice-cream.  As we walked in the doors of the bright and spotless Kooly's, the kids clutching onto their little green coupons the owner greeted them with a big smile, "To the back for your ice-cream."  They danced their way back.

    The kids agonized over their ice-cream decisions, well some of them did.  A couple of them knew right away what they would like.  As soon as they received their ice-cream they began to lick away.  They were so excited.  It was the cap off to an excellent afternoon.

    I made a point of thanking the owner and telling him how much we appreciated his generosity. He must have handed out hundreds of coupons.   He owns a small shop, that represents hundreds of dollars.  In this economy where every penny counts, that is extremely generous.  Kooly's already offers the most reasonable price for ice-cream around.  In their shop you can buy ice-cream for everyone and still afford to pay your mortgage (they offer single scoops for $1.00).  I told the owner how much we really appreciated his generosity, and his reply was very thoughtful and humble, "These are my future customers."

    It was that thought that made me think back a few months to one of Grace's big kid trips down town for lunch.  She and her friends had begged to go down town for lunch during their lunch hour.  It was the first time that I let her do so.  She left for school with a ten dollar bill in her pocket and an adorable look of self importance on her little face.  She was a big kid now.  She came home that night to share stories of her day.  She told me that she and her friend had enough for a small order of fries, but that the man had given them a medium order for the same price.  That really made an impression on me.  It made Grace's day, he earned himself a lifelong customer that day.

    I live in a small town.  I live in a town where neighbours are good to each other.  I remember taking the kids into Toronto for a day out.  At the time Elly was still in her stroller.  We took the kids on the subway, knowing that they would enjoy it.  As we were attempting to get on, the subway doors began to shut on the stroller.  Christopher and I were frantic, trying to get Elly into the subway car.  People just sat and watched, or else pretended that they saw nothing.  After we were all safely seated, and our hearts had returned to their normal beats, I looked at Christopher, "That would never happen at home."  At home there would have been  twenty odd people there trying to help.  It really reminded me why I love Tweed, why I love this small rural community.  The other reason that I love this small community is because of places like Kooly's.  Places where they care about children.  Thank you Kooly's, you make Tweed a better place to live.   

Canada Day 2012

    Happy Canada Day!!!!!!!  To my family Canada Day is almost as big as Christmas.  We really love it!  For the last 14 years I have dressed my kid (s) in red and white, and they have walked in the Tweed Canada Day Parade.  Some years I sew the kids entire Canada Day outfits.  I question my sanity the night before as I frantically sew up shorts, and skirts for the kids, and often for their friends.

    The parade starts on one of the back streets and winds its way down the main street and ends at our park.  At the park are tons of family activities.  There are games for the kids, free cake, free drinks, free boat rides (oh we love the boat rides), it is the highlight of the year.  Last year the municipality purchased fireworks.  It was a great show.

    This year Gracie has been asked to sing the National Anthem.  I am so proud of her, and nervous at the same time.  She has been practicing several times a day.  I have to admit, she's quite good.  I know that I will be blinded by tears as I watch her.

    Canada Day is the day that we express our love for our country.  I am sometimes a little envious of our American neigbours.  Their flag and flag colours better lend themselves to decor.  They shout out their pride in country, while our love and pride are something that we feel, but it seems unseemly to us to shout out.  Stephen Harper had to go to parliment to encourage Canadians before the 2010 Olympics.

 "I know that thoughts of grandeur and boisterous displays of nationalism we tend to associate with others," he said.

"And, over the centuries, things have been done around the world in the name of national pride or love of country that would have been better left undone."

"Yet, we should never cast aside our pride in a country so wonderful, in a land we are so fortunate to call home, merely because the notion has sometimes been abused," said Harper. "We will ask the world to forgive us this uncharacteristic outburst of patriotism, of our pride, to be part of a country that is strong, confident, and tall among the nations."

    From the Olympics also came a beautiful piece about Canada from Tom Brokaw.  Every time I watch it, it brings a proud tear to my eye.

Happy Canada Day!