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Archive for March, 2008

I am back and I bring with me some great Easter pics. 

Nope, no bunnies in these ones, whether real or over-sized and frequenting the closest mall.  No weird-o eggs that are every color of the rainbow (what are those chickens smoking anyway?!).  Nothing pastel to be seen here. 

See, the fact that Easter is early this year combined with the fact that we have had more snow than we have had in years meant that there were no birds chirping in our yard after the roasters were put away and the dishwasher turned on.  No, not us New Brunswickers.  We were sliding. 

Lucky for us, we live on a hill. 

A big one. 

This is my dad … yes, my dad.  Told you he was crazy. 

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And this?  This is me.  It’s probably the finest display of sliding mayhem that I have ever been part of.  As you can imagine, I dug a respectable amount of snow from the back of my neck and out of my right boot after that one.  I think the position my legs are in is what makes me laugh at this picture. 

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As Hubby put it over on his own blog, sliding is fun for all… until some jerk goes and builds a jump! 

(Pssst… in case you are wondering, Hubby= jerk). 

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That is me, circa 1997. 

Behind me is my crazy father. 

Yes, that is a field of snow. 

And yes… that is most definitely a canoe. 

Allow me to explain. 

You see, that particular winter we received a storm that delivered a lot of freezing rain over a couple of days.  The result was a crust of ice several inches thick on top of a few feet of snow.  That crust was hard and it stayed that way for weeks. 

How hard was that crust?  You could walk anywhere and the four wheeler went anywhere… not just on the skidoo trails, but on top of the drifts, straight through the fields, everywhere. 

It was around this time that we also experimented with our downhill skis on the hill behind our house.  How did we get to the top of said hill?  We were towed to the top behind the four wheeler, using a plain old rope. 

Yes, my father is quite the character. 

So one day while on break from university, my father said to me, “You know, I have always wanted to try to go sliding with a canoe”.  He had heard of this being done before.  My dad is the curious sort, you see, and once he gets an idea in his head, it will gurgle and stew in there until he can make it happen. 

The crust that winter made the perfect surface:  instead of trudging along in a few inches of soft snow, we would do it in grand old Carleton County style and that was going to be in a green canoe that was sure to quickly turn into a lightning fast torpedo on top of that hard crust. 

We hauled the canoe to a field not too far away and lugged it to the top of a hill.  The field was open, save for a couple of rock piles in the middle and about halfway down.  I piled in the canoe and Dad gave us a push to get us started.  So far so good.  We were laughing at the sheer hilarity of what we were doing when the canoe steered towards the middle of the field.  In cartoon style, I think the light bulbs went on for both of us at the same time. 

How were we going to steer this thing?  I guess paddles would be the obvious answer but there we were, up the snowbank without a paddle, picking up speed, and heading toward this rock pile.  Dad was trying to steer but he was not being that successful.  As the rock pile loomed closer, in a moment of panic… I bailed. 

Both knees and shins and I think even my elbows went through that thick layer of crust.  I was bruised for three weeks after that. 

Are you wondering what happened to Dad?  You should be.  He actually managed to narrowly miss the rock pile and continued down the field, drastically picking up speed (which I’m sure was happening more quickly because part of the cargo, me, had went overboard). 

What was at the bottom of the field to stop him?  Forest. 

He didn’t get too far into the trees before coming to a stop (without the aid of a tree, I should note).  And when I caught up to him, he was laughing so hard that I couldn’t help but join in. 

That’s my dad.  He’s fun and funny and the life in any room and he can make me laugh like no one else.  We’re never quite sure what he’s going to say and do next and he would try (almost) anything once.  I hope to be just like that:  ready to make my own fun and not waiting for it to find me.  Boy, do I love him. 

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I <3 Winter!

This is a *lot* of snow. 

I mean, I’m sure there are places in Canada with more snow but this is more snow than we have had in this area in a looong time.  This will mean more to those that know my parents’ house but for the rest of you … trust me:  this really is a *lot* of snow. 

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A *lot*. 

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Happy 50th FCC!

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You haven’t lived until you have curled a Friday night game, partied until 3 am, and then curled again at 8:30 am (beer in hand, of course).  Then on Saturday you curl two more games to win third place in your league.  I know what you’re thinking and yes, that all might be fine if you weren’t also the organizer of the event and on the nut for every little issue and task that came up.  Phew! 

The Florenceville Curling Club celebrates its 50th Anniversary this year so we all celebrated by having a special bonspiel.  We don’t normally curl bonspiels playoff style (winners are usually determined by wins vs losses and points for/against) but we wanted something different for this event so we went for it.  We did a greasy spoon brunch at lunchtime, and had a special steak supper.  We even had our MP and MLA show up for the event to say a few words.  Prestigious! 

Anyway, I won’t go into the gory details about how hot I was working over the grill in the kitchen or how tired I was playing that third game on Saturday or how nervous I was doing my speech at the supper (yes, that speech)… I just thought that 50 years was noteworthy.  So there it is.  I’m sure I’ll bring up the club again, being chairman and all. 

Oh, and my team got third place in our league.  That sounds impressive but if you know curling and you know that there were only twelve teams playing in two leagues… well, at least we didn’t get the booby prize. 

Fun times. 

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My tribute to Jeff Healey

Jeff Healey wrote my favorite song of all time. 

This song represents a time in my life when abandon and rebellion and yes, even love, manifested themselves in the form of a boy named Troy.  He wore a jean jacket, smoked cigarettes, and had a potty mouth.  He had eyes that sparkled this light color green that made me melt.  To my parents, he was wild and their worst nightmare.  To me, he was just the sweetest and most caring (and the hottest) thing on the school bus.  

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Jeff Healey was extremely talented, inspiring, and the picture of perseverance.  So much of his life was a battle and yet he was strong and he gave.  He gave to the world through music. 

To me he will always represent accepting your limitations and thriving in spite of them. 

He did a bitchin’ version of Badge, too. 

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The Beverly Snowshoers

Come and listen to a story ’bout my weekend trip,

’bout the two Logue sisters on quite a snowy trek (and Maggie the dog, too). 

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On Saturday we went shoein’ to the camp

With supplies strapped on like a couple of tramps. 

Foot travelers, that is.  Hikers. 

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Well the next thing you know the wine was nearly gone,

Then Ali said, “Game of Yahtzee anyone?”,

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Then “Screw the blizzard, let’s go out into the snow”

So we strapped on the shoes and took off in the glow.

The glow of Fireball, that is.  Whiskey.  It was dark and snowy … a blizzard. 

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….

Well then it’s time to say good-bye and make the trek back home

So up the brook we went in two feet of fresh snow.

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Nature at its finest, untouched and still and pure,

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But walking through it, two hours later, we were beat for sure. 

Tired, that is.  We wanted to set a spell.  But had to dig out the car.  Twice. 

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Y’all come back now, y’hear? 

(Thought about you, Joe … you would have loved it.  More pics to follow, on facebook.)

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