Generation Exhausted

Over the river and through the woods, except there weren't any woods

Early this morning, Youngest and I headed into a drizzly, windy, dreary day so that she cuold join her Girl Guide Unit at the International River Crossing, up in Sombra, ON. This is an annual event, wherein Canadian Girl Guides and American Girl Scouts spend the day on the Canadian side of the border, swapping crests and crafts. The actual "crossing" is on the ferry to Marine City, Michigan - the kids get to ride the ferry across the border, say "wow, we went to the States!" and then cross back.

I went to this event several years ago with my oldest daughter. That day, it had threatened rain, so we hiked the mile to the ferry dock encumbered by backpacks full of rain boots and sweaters in the blazing sun. This year, my daughter and I didn't go up on the bus with the rest of the group (late registration), so I knew there'd be no hiking.

However, there was rain. Lots of it. And wind, and draft, and mud, and...well, at least I'd brought the screen house, so instead of getting soaked, we were only damp. And cold. But not freezing.

I went because I often feel guilty about what the older girls got from me that the Youngest doesn't. I was a Sparks and Brownie leader for nine years, and for most of it I stayed totally immersed, schlepping my own kids and everyone else's to events and camps and outings. So immersed was I that "the baby" learned to do camp dishes before she was out of diapers. I was "Mom the leader".

And then, when Youngest was seven, I quit. She still participates, but it's usually without me, and I worry that someday she'll be a moody teenager who says, "my sisters got all the good parts of my mom and there was nothing left for me."

So today I crossed the river in the rain. It's worth noting that I was quite the International traveller today - knowing the driving the "American" way is shorter, we actually crossed at Detroit, then back again at Port Huron, then back again into Marine City then back again at Detroit. The Canadian customs guy who checked me back in barely looked at our birth certificates, instead engaging me in conversation about the cost of the ferry toll and whether or not it was worth the saved mileage. (It was.)

Although it's also worth pointing out that I spent close to twenty bucks in tolls by the time all was said and done.

Actually the whole "crossing" is really amazing. After 9/11, I was sure this event had seen its last crossing. It involves several hundred kids and adults taking the ferry on foot throughout the day, being processed through US Customs, then back again through Canadian Customs. A busy day for a crossing that I'm sure is used to a more leisurely pace.

The girl said she had a good day, in spite of the rain. She swapped all her swaps, went through the tunnel twice, across one bridge and rode a ferry for the first time that she can remember. I'm glad she had me all to herself - unlike when her sisters had their day, she didn't have to share me with the rest of the group. And, as she put it, when asked if she regretted not being able to take the bus, "Not really - the bus doesn't stop at Tim Hortons."

I know why writers go insane, Part Two

Most recent notes from agents (I'm paraphrasing here)

Agent A: Love your writing, don't like the story

Agent B: Love the story, don't like the writing

Sigh.

Yeah, I know it was a YEAR ago, but so what?

I am resolved to complete my Disney trip report from the LAST trip before we take the NEXT trip. The Saga continues on Day Two...go check it out!

Whatever happened to...

The new TV season is here, and I'm not ashamed to say that the Daughters and I have planned our whole week around being available for the Gilmore Girls premiere this evening. Like most die-hard fans, we were....disappointed...in last season's finale, and hope that the show can redeem itself. I mean, couldn't Lorelai have just gotten a tattoo or dyed her hair like regular people do when they're going nutty?

We've also found a new sitcom to watch that has really tickled us. The Class is two weeks old now, and already it's a must-watch. What a great premise for a show!  In many ways, high school still seems like just yesterday, but going all the way back to third grade is just genius.

The show focuses on the here and now, rather than "back then." However, I do hope that eventually, the show spends some time in third grade, validating the premise that we are, in fact, the sum total of our experiences. Not that our early lives "dictate" who we become, but that it does contribute to the selves we develop. For now, I'm intrigued by the way the show uses photography to convey that. Little time is spent dwelling on then, except for showing third grade photos that "morph" into the characters of today. Whoever chose those photos chose well - I wonder if there's somewhere that gives the "kids" credit for allowing their images to be used this way?

So, who were you in third grade, and whatever became of your peers? Living in what is essentially a small town (no, really) I know that, over the years, I've gotten glimpses here and there of the people that shared my third grade class. It's been particularly on my mind since the announcement was made last week that my old elementary school is going to be torn down and a new school built.

For example - this guy and I used to trade and play with hockey cards. (yes, Ken Dryden, we had one of you too) Imagine my surprise when he (this guy, not Ken Dryden) turned up as my kids' French teacher.

Oh, and playing the six degrees game - Kim has been linking for a while to this guy, whose sister wrote one of the episodes for The Class. The Internets is a small world indeed!

Ok, there's evidence

At long last - because, surprise, her life is NOT all about me - Kim has posted pictures from the Infamous Pie Incident. Go see!

Feeling MUCH better

The cold is in that lingering stage where I feel pretty good during the day, but as soon as I lay (lie?) down at night, the congestion kicks in, and I'm sitting up every five minutes to cough, sneeze or blow my nose. Or all three, if I'm feeling efficient. It never got unbearable, and I haven't gone crying for the Puffs Plus with Lotion yet, so apparently, I will survive.

But oh, Internets, do I have good news for you. Very, very, very, VERY good news, news that took an edgy-bordering-on-crappy Friday and turned Friday into my very FAVOURITE day. This news made it a very, very, VERY good Friday.

Why? Because any day that carries the reminder that I am not a talentless hack (we writers can be very morose when we're meandering in the valley of self-doubt) is a good day.  A day when I am reminded that I CAN write words worth reading, that I HAVE written words worth reading, and that, since A+B=C, I most deifnitely WILL write words worth reading again, is a very, very good day indeed.

Note: the preceding sentence/paragraph is not necessarily a good example of how I write good, but, you know. Heh.

So yeah. Good news Friday.

What's that? Oh. Um...sorry. I can't tell you what it is.

Not yet, anyway, because of my own personal belief that, just as the opera ain't over 'til the Fat Lady sings, and the ball game ain't over 'til it's over, the news don't get shouted from the rooftops (or the Internets) until the contract is signed.

Sorry.

This is non-fiction news, by the way. But that's all I'm saying.

I will tell you that I am pleasantly surprised that, when this type of news arrives, I'm still not so jaded that I don't do a little victory dance, right here in my office, and give a little "WhoooHooo!" out loud, for good measure. Take it for granted? I can't imagine.

Timing is everything

Right smack in the middle of the one week where I can't afford to be "down" for a day, the annual autumn head cold has struck. My throat feels like I've been swallowing knives, and if I never see a cup of lemon tea again, it will be a good thing.

Sniffle.

Just because I'm 35 doesn't mean I'm too old to learn something new

Hey, I tried a Widget! Check out my eBay listings over there to the right - pretty cool, huh?

I'm not a "math person" and so I've always had a certain amount of sympathy for Oldest and her aversion to things mathematical. Once upon a time, maybe it was when she was in Grade Six, she wailed the typical wail, "Why do I have to know this stuff??? I'll never use it in real life!"

Ah ah ah, I told her. You will. You will grow up and need to remember Order of Operations so that you can answer the skill-testing question they make you answer when you win a contest.

Remember the acronym BEDMAS? Brackets, exponents, division, multiplication, addition, subtraction. Many a free McDonald's milkshake has depended on knowing that acronym.

The skill-testing questions are always easy. I've even been places where they hand you the problem and then hand you a slip of paper with the answer. But today I learned WHY you need to answer a skill-testing question when you win a contest;

The combined effect of Sections 197 to 206 of the Canadian Criminal Code bans for-profit gaming or betting, with exceptions made for provincial lotteries, and licensed casinos and charity events. Many stores, radio stations, and other groups still wish to hold contests to encourage more purchases or increase consumer interest. … These organizations take advantage of the fact that the law does allow prizes to be given for games of skill, or mixed games of skill and chance. In order to make the chance-based contests legal, such games generally have mathematical skill-testing questions incorporated. (sorry, no source)

Hand to god, I always thought it was to weed out and punish the people who weren't paying attention in Grade Six math.

Yet further proof that ALL the good ideas are taken

Remember when the kids were little, and we used to joke that there was no point in buying toys because the kids preferred to play with the empty Tupperware (tm) and margerine containers?

Take a look at what my kid wants for Christmas.

What's next? Empty cardboard boxes and crumpled up wrapping paper in the toy aisle?

Be honest, do I look older?

No matter how old you are, there's always something good to look forward to. - Lynn Johnston, creator of For Better or For Worse

Annibirthary (that's the four-day celebration of our wedding anniversary, hubby's birthday and my birthday) is over. The games began on Saturday, our anniversary, when friends had us over for dinner. Dinner was capped off with German chocolate cake (yum!) and Key Lime pie.

The dessert show alluded to in an earlier post began when Oldest's piece of Key Lime Pie flipped off her plate and landed on the floor at my feet. She promptly dropped to the floor and tried to save it, and, seeing as her face was mere inches from her plate, I couldn't resist casually lifting my foot...

...and gently stepping on the back of her head...

...and smushing her face into her pie.

I may be old, but I'm not done surprising my friends and family yet!

The battle erupted, with Oldest responding by scooping up a handful of pie and smashing it in my face. Then we were both up and sparring, throwing pie at each other, wiping it across each other's faces, and generally trying to play offense and defense at once.

Let me say this - my Oldest daughter is seven inches taller than me, thirty pounds heavier and has a much longer reach. Once she had a hold of my shoulder, all she had to do was hold me at arm's length while I flailed in her general direction, and she used the other hand to stuff pie down my shirt.

Eventually I cried Uncle, and we cleaned up. Poor Kim. One doesn't expect that having guests will involve loaning them clean t-shirts and finding towels while they wash their hair. And bless her heart, she had the kitchen floor cleaned up by the time we came back from the bathroom.

Of course, the men in the room did what men will do when faced with the sight of two women wrestling (with pie! Oh, the search hits I'm going to get on that one) - one shouted encouragement and the other took pictures. Kim, once and once ONLY, you may post a few pictures of the event on your blog. Because I have a reputation for being a little...uptight shall we say?...and I know my dear readers will need proof.

On the upside, having meringue smeared on my arms and neck seems to have done wonders for my skin.

We've been married for seventeen years. According to those who placed bets that day, it wasn't supposed to last seventeen months. And there have been times, in between now and then, when it seemed like it wouldn't. But it did. So there.

My birthday, yesterday, began at the ungodly hour of Before Eight, when my darling children woke me up and said, "Happy Birthday Mom. It's raining. Will you get up and drive us to school?" And then, in the car, one of them said, "Congratulations, you're halfway to 70!"

You know, thirty-five is one of those markers, but yesterday was strangely un-monumental. It was a normal day, but with cake - and that's okay. Have I done the things I wanted to do by now, accomplished what I set out to accomplish? A little bit. Have my goals and dreams changed? A little bit. Do I have any regrets about roads not taken, choices not made? Not the least little bit.

Every step I've taken in the last thirty-five years has brought me to where I am - and that's a pretty good place. I've been doing a lot of thinking and soul-searching these last few months, and I know I've still got things to do - but that just gives me all the more reason to keep thinking and dreaming and doing and reaching.

After all I'm only halfway to 70 - and I only have to get there one year, one month, one day at a time.