Concerts, Fairs and Bad Manners

At this exact moment in time, I am wedged between to fantastic weekends chocked full of wonderful events. Journey back in time with to last weekend.

We at Chez Hoy kicked of the weekend on Friday--as any great weekend should--by finding an excellent new home for our family dog, Shiela. I had been struggling for a long time, trying to fit in enough time to make sure she got all the exercise and attention she needed and try as I might, I just couldn't do it. So I interviewed a bunch of really nice people and found a young couple who attend the University of Ottawa who were delighted to have her in their family. So, the kids and I packed a picnic lunch and made a day of it. After we said our goodbyes, we went to meet Bruce at Dows Lake for a lunch in the sunshine. It was bliss. There were squirrels for the girls to chase and everyone stuffed themselves.

When I got home, I got to work letting go of two garbage bags of clothes that, even if they did still fit (and they didn't) would be so out of style I couldn't get away with wearing them anyway. People, I threw away bridesmaids dresses from three weddings I attended 15 to 20 years ago! What was I thinking?! On the upside, I have room in my closet now to get me some clothes that fit.

Saturday, the girls and I took in the Middleville Fair during the afternoon. This is a great place to take kids who really dig animals. There were Alpacas (I am teaching them at a tender age the beauty of luxury fibre) and bees and teams of horses, sheep, cows and fowl. We paid special attention to where we were walking. There's nothing quite like being in the middle of a crowd and having one of your children scream at the top of their lungs, "MOMMY WATCH OUT FOR THAT POO!" Can't say they don't listen. Good times.

On the way home, we took a slew of back roads and got to see the trees starting to turn. The area we live in is just on the cusp of the Autumn colour show. In the next two weeks, the hills will look like they are on fire. It is a fleeting time when the sun's light plays off the leaves, making everything around you appear golden. I love this time of year.

Saturday night, Bruce and I got our good duds on and headed into the city. I know, this makes it sound like we live in hicksville (and well, I sort of do, but that's besides the point) since we do in fact come into the city to go to work every day. However, Saturday night was special because we were going to the National Arts Centre to see Loreena McKennitt's Ancient Muse Tour. I have had the privilege of seeing her three or four times now and she never fails to enthrall her audiences. It was stunning. It has been far too long since I completely indulged in her music and that's got to change. Just a magical evening completeing a wonderful day.

Sunday, after getting groceries, hanging out laundry and making lunch (there must be balance between work and play. We all need clean undies, after all) we headed off to the Richmond Fair. Living within 40 minutes of at least 20 small towns really does give you endless entertainment in September. Having gone to the Perth Fair a couple of weeks ago, the girls were primed for rides and animals and treats and the fair certainly delivered. I had taken the kids to the Perth Fair on my own and found that they are just small enough to require an adult to go with them on most of the really good rides but most of those rides only allowed for 2 per carriage or bucket or whatever. So, we were stymied on a few of them, but I promised that we'd drag Mr B along with us the next time so that everyone could enjoy the rides. That said, we dropped a load of cash for the tickets and went on all the rides the girls wanted to go on! I will admit that I was just as scared as they were on the Ferris Wheel, but I sucked it up and we had a great time.

This is Fiona's paparazzi pose.

This weekend coming will be filled with music. On Friday afternoon, Corkery Road will be making its international debut at the International Ploughing Match in Crosby Ontario. We are schduled to play for 1.5 hours from 1 pm to 2:30. If'n yer gonna be in the area, drop by the Leeds-Grenville County Showcase stage. That's where we'll be making history!

On Saturday, we'll be hitting the road to Russell for their first Celticfest. And thereafter, I susupect we might be in a bit of need of a lie-down.

And now for the Bad Manners part of the post...no, no, everyone, it will not be a divulging of my own bad manners (although I totally would if I realized it was me). No, this is addressed to the man who pulled up behind me at the brand-spakin new TD Canada Trust drive-through bank machine in Carleton Place just as we were heading off to the Richmond Fair. Now folks, I don't know about you, but in my hardly ever humble opinion, drive-through bank machines were made for orangutans or men with long arms. No matter how close to taking off my mirror I get (and I can get pretty close to it) I still have to take off my seatbelt, throw the car in neutral, pull the parking brake (newsflash to anyone who didn't know I drive a standard transmission), haul my carcass half-way out of the car to lean over far enough to just be able to shove the card into the slot and key in my vital statics, praying all the while that I don't make a mistake because I suspect I'm cutting off circulation to something important...like the entire lower half of my body.

Now, I was just getting out some cash to cover the ransom for the ride tickets at the fair. I was not paying bills, transfering monies from foreign accounts. No, I was not checking my account balances, nor was I arranging changes to my mortgage or opening a new account. A simple, fast (in my opinion) transaction, with no keying errors.

There was one car that pulled up behind me when I was already half way through my transaction. I got my money, retrieved my card and receipt, still hanging half out of the car. Pulled myself back into the car and opened up my wallet to put money in and card back. And before I could stick the bills in my wallet, the jerk behind me honked his horn for me to hurry up.

People, honestly, do you throw the car in gear the moment your arse hits the seat, before putting your money away, before putting your seatbelt on, before you are ready?! Even if you do, I do not.

So I flipped him the bird. Which made the guy go snakey, but what could he do? He was still behind me and HAD to wait until I got my seat belt on (I'm just a stickler that way) and got into first (it is the one that I take care with so that I don't waste more precious time starting the car again after I've stalled it...this car behaviour is usually reserved for left-hand turns when the light has already gone yellow) and slowly and cautiously pulled away (safety first, I did have the children with me). And what does he do, but roll down his window to give me a flippy comment as he's getting ready to use the machine with his long manly arms. I bet the bastard didn't even have to take off his seat belt (if in fact he was wearing one to begin with.)

It was everything I could do, I swear, to go past the drive-through entrance and not come up behind him and honk. However, the thought of having to back up through the obstacle course to get out of there was the clincher, so instead I nobly ignored whatever it was he said and prayed fervently that the children didn't catch the bird-flipping move, 'cos, you know, that's all I need them to do the next time I'm waiting in line at the grocery store!

Next time, I'll discuss my Little Black Thumb and the total and utter failure of all my gardening efforts this year and why this should lead you to go forth and send me seed heads from your garden...you know, where good garden karma grows. And because I'm too cheap to go and spend $500 on plants.

Have a great weekend folks!

Work in Progress

Now this could be a way of describing my life, but I'm shooting for something a bit less philosophical here (and by the way, am I the only one who has trouble spelling that?).

Anyway, I led a bunch of you to believe that there would be knitting on this blog. So far, there has been yarn, yummy, yummy yarn...ahem. Sorry, I got a bit out of hand there. But to date, no knitting. Let us rectify that situation.

As most of you are aware, I am pretty much continuously knitting. I carry it around like Linus carries his blue blanket. And there are many projects on the go. This is all quite normal if you are a knitter. You may ask yourself (if you are not a knitter), how does one manage 10 different projects all at the same time. Just the same as if I only had one project on the go (and how boring would that be...not to worry though, I'll never know): one stitch at a time. But stitch on stitch and row on row, things appear. However, I am not always the best at following instructions eventhough I am assuredly quite literate (I am employed as an editor after all). You see, I was about to say that all of this obsessive-compulsive knitting turns out garment after garment, but with the instruction reading impairment, sometimes I knit ashtrays. Most of the time, however, this is correctable and furthers my learning in both the art of knitting and adds to my store of patience.

And so, without further ado, I give you my current fun and easy thing I'm knitting (you'll get to see the others later). I have been watching the blogosphere for some time and seeing all sorts of knitters churning out Mitred Square blankets. I thought that this was an interesting thing to do, but it was pretty far down on my list. Until I saw Ann Budd's Quilt Blocks to Knit on Interweave's Piecework Magazine. Sure her pattern called for thread and some crazy small needle size because it was for a greeting cards, but I figured in a chunky yarn on 6mm needles, I should get a reasonable sized square. You see! I DO think before I try my experiments in knitting. Anyway, here is the result so far...and for all you fibre snobs out there, stop reading now. My blankie is made out of acrylic. With two 3 year olds, being able to throw it into the washer and dryer is a must for anything that is going to get sneezed on, barfed on, food on....you see where this is going.

The girls each grabbed one of the squares last night and professed their undying love for their blankies. Imagine what they'll think when the whole thing is done.

I got this yarn from a co-worker whose MIL had decided a decade ago that she was going to take up knitting....by starting with a blanket. This is how I acquired a bag-load of phentex chunky weight acrylic in (I have to say it) pretty great colours. Now, I would not knit a sweater or a scarf out of this stuff, but for snuggling down to watch a movie, it'll do just fine.

Cape Breton Part III

Onwards to new places

I'm starting to think I'll be posting about this trip until Christmas (which, knitters is less than 4 months away). Where were we? Oh yes, the end college. After picking up a few things in the College Gift Shop, we bid goodbye to St Ann's and made our way to Lake Ainslie where we rented a cottage for a couple of nights. We were going to take in the South West Margaree Dance, but after lying down for a short nap and waking up 12 hours later, we decided that we really needed to catch up on the sleep instead!

This is what the place looked like...

But, this is what we looked out on...

Not bad, eh!

On Saturday, we went for a little visit to Dunvegan where my buddy Jac and his lovely wife Laurie are camping for (wait for it) 7 weeks. We had a wonderful lunch during which I sighed and smiled a lot. This is living. Here is the view from the camper. I can see why they stay. After lunch, Laurie took Bruce and I on a hike down to the beach to enjoy the surf and the turf. At first the water was seriously cold on my sand-baked feet, but I got used to it. We had a good bob in the ocean and fell asleep in the sun on the beech. And for our efforts, got sun burnt. The sun knows when you fall asleep and then he gets out a huge magnifying glass and just smokes you. We are still peeling 3 weeks later. :-)

That night after a nice meal at the Red Shoe, we went to the fabled West Mabou Dance and it was everything I had come to expect. No pictures though. Bruce did not sit down the entire night. My knees can only take one set of dances at a time, but not Bruce! He could literally dance all night! The hall was filled with people--tourists at the back and a mob of locals at the front--and Sandy MacIntyre and his band cranked out jigs and reels for 4 hours without much of a break! Thank God the air outside was cool because that hoppin' hall was HOT.

The next day (after sleeping in a bit), we started on the Cabot Trail. Now, I've always wanted to do this part of the trip, and despite being in Cape Breton at least once before, I had not achieved this goal. Well, if the Fates had kept me from it before, I was certainly not disappointed. It took us all day to wind along the roads and through the Cape Breton Highland National Park and we were tired at the end of it, but it was worth it.

We started on the West side of the island at the Margarees (all of them, North, South, East, West, SSW, SSE, EWW, I don't know how emergency crews find these places...oh wait, they know every body), following the road

up to Cheticamp where we had scallops for lunch and bought a pile of music near Pleasant Bay. Now the trail is a challenging drive full of twists and turns and steep inclines. Not for the faint of heart. I'm seriously indebted to Bruce for doing this leg of the driving. There were moments when I had a good grip on my door rest and I may not have completely appreciated his fervent wish that the brakes stayed in fine working order.

There is something you should know about this stretch of road, people. If you are driving an automatic transmission car, you are in for a beautiful, windy, panoramic drive . If you are driving a standard transmission car, you are in for a beautiful, windy, panoramic drive with adventure built in. Because the way is steep, with hairpin turns and lots of switchbacks, you really have to know what you're getting into beforehand and be ready to put the hammer down and give 'er on the way up. Those who insist on taking their campers through the park without a full knowledge of this little tidbit need to get their heads examined! Not only are these vehicles large and usually have manual transmission, they catch the wind and are rather difficult to see around, especially when one has not put said hammer down and all the power drains out of the camper on a hairpin turn in the middle of a long upward stretch where there is no hope of a pull off for miles. This is a crappy place to COME TO A COMPLETE FREAKING STOP forcing those behind you to PULL OUT BLINDLY on a curve where anyone coming downhill is just trying to gear down to stop their brakes from catching fire! You know who you are.

Here is my world famous Cape Breton fiddler.

And likewise, the drummer...(seriously folks, when we were in Pictou, I saw a woman wearing the exact same outfit. She has some excellent style!)

And when we saw the sign that read "Alternate Scenic Route" we looked at one another and decided then and there to take the road less traveled. And this is what we saw:

We saw a bald eagle hunting here. This is Neil's Harbour, at the edge of the world.

After an exhausting day (the trail took 7 hours to drive with stops), we ended up in Sydney, home of the giant fiddle. It is easy to find Syndey, however, once you are there, it is difficult to find your way out or around or through because of a rabbit warren of one way streets, a preponderance of roads without signs, a total lack of grid system for the roads because they follow the lay of the river, and the fact that the electricity goes out occasionally because some shmo is trying to steal copper from the lines! I am not kidding you. Finding your way out of Syndney without the help of road signs or LIGHTS is tricky indeed.

And we stayed at the Lingan Bay B&B. A nice place. Interesting view:

The Quaint Church next door

The Bay

The massive coal-fired power plant 2 blocks away (complete with 7 wind turbines). Can you say Pink Floyd?
We went to Louisbourg and after a full day of 1750s adventuring we went for my lobster dinner at the world famous Fortress View Restaurant...from which you could NOT see the fortress. Maybe in 1955, you could see the fortress from there, perhaps.

We saw the Hector in Pictou. This is a replica of the ship that brought the first settlers from Scotland to the area. After we were done reading half of the extremely detailed displays in the interpretive centre, I felt like I had taken the 12 week journey in the bowels of that boat. Still, it is a municiple project which I think is very ambitious and deserves the price of admission.

We also stopped at Grohmann Knives, one of Canada's knife manufacturers. Everything here is made in Nova Scotia.

We went to see a mill that was without at miller for the past year and therefore was not running. And at the same stop were told that the steam-driven saw mill had been closed due to public safety issues and they could no longer provide us with directions to the beautiful water fall in the area because some idiot had decided to climb to the top and jump (to his death) . Too bad Evil Knievel had to do it in front of his son. Three strikes for us and we moved on to Halifax.Where I got to meet some of Bruce's friends (and now I'll say they are mine too), Diane, Ian and Nolan. Sadly, as I had my tourist hat on, I neglected to take pictures of Diane and Ian, but did get a good one of Nolan.

And we enjoyed our sightseeing in Peggy's Cove (which was 10 minutes away from a bright, sunny day...Maritime Fog) and the Citadel.

And for those knitters amongst you...there was yarn. We stopped in Baddeck at Baadeck Yarns where Patricia made me feel most at home and Bruce had a wee snooze in an arm chair while I browsed. This is what I came home with...

yummy, scrumptious goodness. These colours, I was told, are done up just for shops in Cape Breton. I'm thinking there will be two lace shawls and a dandy pair of socks out of this haul.

Near Margree Harbour, I saw a sign that said, "Will ewe stop?" And we did. My only regret about this shop is that I did not buy more. At $4.99 a skein, I was a fool to only pick up these...

In Pictou, we went into a gift shop to pick up some pressies for the family and Bruce pointed out that there were felted hats like I make in the back corner. And there was some wool back there too. Is there any wonder why I love this man like I do? So I bought a few skeins of undyed wool for trying my hand at home dyes.

And on the way home, we made a side trip to Briggs and Little Woolen Mills where I was completely overcome by yarn fumes when we discovered that we had arrived 5 minutes before they closed! Rest assured, I can work quickly when under pressure.

Here is a picture of the complete haul. I almost feel ashamed of it all. The decadence. The over abundance.

And when I came home....what should be waiting for me, but my Bee Fields shawl kit designed by Anne Hansen of Knitspot fame and wool dyed and spun by Wooly Wonka's fibres. Can it get any better?

Isn’t everybody’s life like this?

I am having one of those days. We all have them.

I woke up when the phone rang. My children’s nanny calling to say she’s got a migraine. Can’t come in to work. Bummer. I hate having a migraine so I can really commiserate.

No problem, got a backup plan and a back up babysitter. Lay in bed a few more minutes and then get up to wait for the girls to come home from their over-night with their dad. Greet J, as the children are late in arriving and head up to the shower. When I get out, discover that I’m not going to see them this morning because their dad has over-slept. (Glad I used the time wisely and had already made my lunch.)

No problem, will see them when I get home tonight. Too bad though, I miss not seeing them in the morning. Might just get to work on time today though. The irony of this statement smacks me in the head as I put the parking brake on and wait for a long train to pass by. And then get stopped by construction work, and this all before I can get outta Dodge.

Still, I had my coffee: all was not lost.

You know, I used to write stories about “The Worst Day Ever”. The kind of story that started off getting up late and being late for all the disasters of the day. Well, sometimes life is like that and, as always, stranger than fiction. (And, thank goodness, so far my imagination is still worse than my reality…most days anyway…with a few lapses into the Land of Exception.)

So, I was chatting with J this morning while I was waiting for Calla and Fiona’s arrival. You know, just catching up after the weekend. And she said to me, “Man, your life is just too much!” And I asked her, “What, you mean other people don’t live this way?”

So, this prompted me to think. (I know we all understand this is never a good thing, but it can be entertaining.) Is my life really all that different from yours? (You, the Collective You of all the people I know…well those of you who know about this blog.)

1. Doesn’t everyone have hobbies that they obsess over? Ok, so I have multiple hobbies that I obsess over, but that’s the whole premise behind the blog, now isn’t it.

2. Doesn’t everyone have issues with their family? C’mon, you don’t have to admit it to me, but you know you do.

3. Doesn’t everyone fly by the seat of their pants from home to work to home, just praying that they remembered to pick up milk and their fly is up? (OK, tonight I need to remember that I am almost out of TP.)

4. Doesn’t everyone juggle work life and private life and family life? And music life, and knitting life and friends and loved ones and cleaning and laundry. Ever seen one of those guys spin plates? How many could I possibly keep spinning without getting spun myself. Hmmm, spinning. That’s something I’d really like to learn someday….shit, that’s exactly the kind of thinking that’s gotten me where I am so far.

5. Doesn’t everyone have plans that stretch into the unforeseeable future, with every weekend booked with something. I’m so freaking busy. I do have some time open…I’m looking at November right now. Is that a good time for you?

6. Doesn’t everyone go away from time to time and find that they’ve been ripped off while on vacation?

7. Doesn’t everyone have to deal with the Police from time to time? You don’t? What are your tax dollars going to then, if they are not working for you?!

8. Doesn’t everyone have pets with issues and big decisions to make regarding them?

9. Doesn’t everyone have dust bunnies lurking under some furniture? OK, a little more honesty is needed here: mine are buffalos…and they roam.

10. Doesn’t everybody go a bit nuts every once in a while? Alright, you in the back, yes, I am a bit more prone to the craziness than you are, but really, is my life really all that more exciting than yours?

So, yes, perhaps I’m living a little closer to the edge than a lot of you. But I remember, in my teens, trying to fill my days with lots to do so that I could fall asleep better at night.

Well, it worked. I’ve left insomnia behind for that sleep deprivation-induced haze called full-time-working-mother-of-twins-happily-dating-and-having-a-life-rich-in-friends-and-full-of-music-and-other-cherished-activities. No drugs needed to sleep here at my house.

So, to fill you in, since of course beyond the laughs, you are here to hear what I’m up to (otherwise known as how my life is holding me ransom this week…film at 11…if I can ever figure out how to upload video, that is), I had a lovely weekend in Midland visiting Bruce’s family and to celebrate his parents’ 60th wedding anniversary. And came home to discover that shenanigans had taken place at my humble abode whilst I was abroad gallivanting. Someone who should never have been in my house, was allowed in to use the washroom to change her clothes and walked out with my UWO University ring, a ring I was given by my parents as a child, and some costume jewellery necklaces. Oh, yes, and my entire collection of 1973 Mountie quarters. I’ve been collecting them since I was 10. And the ten year old in me is pissed. I’m not going to say what the 35 year old in me is thinking about that. And that’s what I’ve noticed so far.

So, the girl, T, who was responsible for looking after my place and feeding and taking care of Shiela, my dog, was on the phone on Monday calling all the persons of interest (of whom there was to be but 1 person allowed over to my house and it turns out there were more than 12 on my front porch) to find out what everyone knew and to speak to their parents. Then we had a nice chat with the Constabulary at the OPP station in town to give details, etc.

In my estimation, $500+ has been lifted from my house because of this incident and most of it is stuff that is difficult to replace. Now, beyond getting angry and considering violence…which is not the answer as I am seeking to make as big an impact as possible for someone who looks up to me and is extremely upset that her lack of judgement has landed her in such deep shit…I have been considering how best she can make amends for the loss of my property. We shall not go into how she will be able to mend this breech in trust. Those of you who know me well, will immediately shake your heads on her behalf and mutter things like “Oh, dear.” and “Tsk, tsk, tks.” and “I wouldn’t want to be in her shoes….” and “I’m so very glad I’ve never crossed Jen” as they are all well aware that I may be the forgiving sort, but I do not forget.

I have been very clear that she is not the one who ripped me off. That is why I have not charged her with theft. However, she has blatantly gone against my wishes and allowed a breech in the defences of my fortress…my home. As a woman who lives most of the time alone with her two small children, I’m sure you can appreciate what the security of my inner sanctum means.

So, what would you have her do to make amends? How would you have her repay her debt?

And with that, it is lunchtime and I would like to fit a bit of knitting in before work starts up again.

Cape Breton Part II

Let's see now, I think I left off with me whining and moaning about what Step Class had done to me. Really, folks, I gotta tell you, it wasn't all pain. And actually, I found that going to the dance classes made the pain go away...for a while.

At the College

Apart from all the frenetic networking and getting to know everyone and the classes (I took Piano Accompaniment, Advanced Bodhran (that's drum) and Beginner Step), there was excellent food served up by the cafeteria staff. This was like no cafeteria food I'd ever had. Three solid squares a day that made us all gain weight and a schedule so full of exciting stuff to do and people to talk to, we were starved by the time the next meal rolled around. Luckily, the balance to all this eating was, yes, you guessed it, more dancing.

Don't it Make You Feel Like Dancing

Just about any night of the week (except Sunday...you gotta rest some time, I guess) there is a dance to go to. This strikes me as a fabulous way to get your exercise. Monday night is Brook Village, Tuesday night is Scotsdale, Wednesday night is Normaway Inn, Thursday night is Glencoe, Friday night South West Margaree, and Saturday is West Mabou. We went out to the Monday night, Thursday night and Saturday night dances and would have gone on Friday night too had we not had ourselves a little rest that turned into a 12-hour sleep. Seriously, we were so burned out, when the alarm went off for us to get up and go to the dance, I wanted to cry. Luckily, we were both that toasted and felt very refreshed the day after.

Unlike going to a dance here in Ontario, be it a wedding or a club, or other social event, most people mill about and drink for a while and talk/shout over the music. Not so in Cape Breton. As soon as the fiddler is done tuning up his strings and puts his bow against them, this is what the dance floor looks like. I know, it's dark, but who has a dance with the lights on full?

(OK, so the video won't upload...picture a packed community hall, darkish for dancing with a dance floor so full, you can't get from the door to the bar! Seriously, it was something else.)

And it was like this at every dance. In fact, we hovered at the West Mabou dance to see how close to the front we could get. This is where the floor boards are most worn and the real experts are. This is a bonus as Cape Breton dances are not your average fare. No, its square sets all night. This is not to be mistaken for some form of Country Music, heaven forfend! This is Cape Breton Celtic music at its best and the dances that have gone along with it since the Scots got off the boats. And don't be fooled: it is a real work out. The men who come to these dances (and who actually dance) bring at least 3 spare shirts for a very good reason. It gets damn hot in the community hall (it being Summer and all) and you just smoke through the dance steps. And the dancing starts at 10pm and doesn't stop until 1am! The best dances are the ones that don't serve alcohol because frankly you never want to quoif a cold refreshing beer and then do 2 jig sets and a reel set. Beer well-shaken is a one-way ticket to heartburn. Or worse. Don't worry though, I held it together and switched to water.

I was really swept up in the great feeling of community participation at these dances. There were people of all ages (some of the dances invite families, ergo the dry dances). There were couples from their teens to their 80's cycling through chains and promenades. By the end of the week, there were people I'd seen every dance we'd gone to. And the sets allowed for meeting new people as partners spun off in different directions (somewhat unexpectedly sometimes as we new recruits caught on). And although there was a fair bit of concentrated looks as we figured out what we were doing, overall, there was a general sense of joy in the music and it was impossible to sit still, even when you'd just finished up a set and could barely stand.

And every night we went out, we were came home to shooting stars from the Perseids meteor shower. Can this week get any better.

All good things must end and what a way to go!

On Thursday night, there was a Student Ceilidh where we showcased what we'd learned.

This is me with Myron, my drumming teacher, and our new friend Cindy Butineau-Thompson. She step dances just to take the edge off and OMG are her feet fast. Myron and I moved as far out of the way as possible!!! Oh yeah, she's also a professional fiddler. I saw smoke come off her strings!

To show everyone that I really did touch a piano (the dust on the one at home will attest that this does not happen often), I accompanied Bruce and InBobNeato to Coilsfield House after being given about an hour or so to practice the piece. It was a pretty intense couple of minutes in front of about a hundred people, but we did really well. Singing and drumming are no problem for me, but I think I'm still having Kiwanis flashbacks from when I was seven and performing piano in front of groups still makes me sweat.

After the ceilidh ended, we headed back up to our dorm room to shoot the breeze, have a celebretory drink and convince Cindy that she had to come out to the Glencoe Dance with us.

Now the Glencoe dance is located in what could be called God's Country. You have to take a road that is easily missed, is unlit, unpaved and after the rain their had been a few days before, as easy to drive as one covered in deep slushy snow. We left behind powerlines and crawled along with the anticipation building to silly extremes as Bruce (our intrepid dance guide) told us tales of the ladies from college who took a turn too hard last year and ended up in the ditch at 2 in the monring. We swore that when we got back to paved road, we'd stop the car and get out to kiss it. I would almost say that the ride to the dance was more fun than the dance. However, this is just a plain lie because we had 3 hours of solid foot-stomping fun along with a bunch of others from the college who had come out for a good time too.

More on the after college part of the trip to come. Stay tuned.

East of Ordinary

Well folks, now that I'm back, let me start by telling you I had a fantastic vacation. Had there been more wireless internet available, there might have been more posts, but our days were pretty full of living life large...as it should be on holiday. So that said, we left Gagetown, the quaint little village down the winding road and headed for the hills. (I'm sensing that there will be more than a few clichés here tonight, so be prepared.) And the hills were enchanting. I recall thinking to myself, but aloud, as most of you know I am prone to doing, that if there is a heaven, it is in Cape Breton.

As we crossed the Canso Causeway, the body of water that makes Cape Breton an island (and its not all that big a body of water either), I was captured by the rugged topography: the hills, the trees and the lakes. I've never been to Scotland, but I know I've read that the land was torn from there as the continents drifted apart, and I can really believe it. It's no wonder the Scots emigrated there and stayed.

Here's a picture of the Causeway.

It's a wonder no one drives right into the strait with that monster of a hill staring at them. That is a train, running alongside the road, which effectively made it impossible to get a good picture of the water beyond it.

As we crossed the water, the excitement became almost unbearable because we were off to St. Ann's and the Gaelic College. Now, I don't know if any of you had the chance to go away to camp when you were kids, but I did not. Well, not until Air Cadets when I went to Trenton Base for 2 weeks of Basic Training and let me be totally honest with you...this was loads more fun.
The greatest part about going to this place, so far from home, was that I was going with a great guy, and we were meeting up with a bunch of people I'd already met. Plus, we made tons of new friends along the way, one of whom was married to a guy Bruce went to school with! Nothing like travelling to the ends of the earth to meet up with people who you have connections with.

So, here's the guy...Bruce. (Click on the pictures for a larger view. In theory this will work, I've never tried it before. Only time will tell.)










Here are some of the people we knew:
Elaine









and Maureen and Joan and Kay (I had the distinct pleasure of meeting these ladies at Kay's in Toronto last November and look forward to the reunion there again!)









And the Amazing InBobNeato who refused to have his real name used to avoid infamy!

InBobNeato was an excellent participant in everything. We both took step dancing classes for the very first time in our lives. Now, Bob is a Pys.Ed teacher, so this form of physical torture did not do to him what it did to me. And I was not aware of what it was doing to me until I made the mistake of joining the fellas for a couple of cold ones at the Lobster Galley restaurant. This is situated 2 minutes by car (and 15 minutes walking there...downhill...with a cold beer on your mind). The view on the patio is breath- taking. It is situated at the base of a fjiord. There were jellyfish in the bay (this was fine with me as we were not in the bay with them). There was a bald eagle surfing the air currents. And far out, there was a kayaker enjoying the sun and the breeze. Idyllic. Perfect. Look.


I mentioned it was a 15-minute walk downhill. Yeah, not so going back up. Actually, if you could have harnessed the energy I wasted bitching, whining and moaning the whole way up the steep incline all the way back to the college, the school could have saved a day's electricity. My legs were BURNING AGONY. And why is InBobNeato amazing? Because not only did he put up with the noise (as did Bruce...although there was some making fun going on), but he promised to fix the problem when we got back. For a bit, I thought this might involve violence or weaponry or, God forbid, more step dancing, but in truth, he worked some physiotherapy that made all the pain in my legs go away. For teaching me this little trick (and for showing Bruce how to do it) I owe a huge debt of gratitude. (I know you all want to know for the next time you break yourselves having fun. So, I'll share. If you've overdone it and your leg muscles are getting really tight, you can trick your body into releasing those muscles. Lie on the ground and raise up one leg and get someone to support it. Then, as they apply counter pressure...by trying to hold your leg up, push your leg down toward the floor. Do it 3 times. Each time, you'll be able to raise your leg a bit higher. Repeat for other leg.) Seriously folks, it worked so well, I jumped up and down afterward.

All Hail Bob!

And with that first installment of Gaelic College and Cape Breton, I HAVE to get some sleep. Good night!

Just Show People One Hobbie...

Now, I'm going to go back a bit. Back to Gagetown where we stayed at Doc's Hill B&B with Don and Donna Teakles. Now as many of you already know, I have a wee bit of a knitting habit. Ok, it's not little at all. Well, I was knitting on my seasilk print o' the waves shawl, by Euny Jang, and it was kicking my arse in the car. Go look at the pattern, you'll understand why. It's one of those patterns where you knit a row and count and then go back and figure out where you forgot a yarn over or something of the like and knit it again (if you're lucky and you don't have to go back another row or two to fix the mistake, by I'm digressing). So by the time we reached the B&B I had moved on to more pedestrian sock knitting and decided that after 10 hours of driving I wouldn't bother brining too much in with me. But I did bring in the sock. Well it wasn't out of its travelling case two minutes and Donna was over to inspect the yarn and the pattern and went to go and show off what she had on the needles. I love this about knitters. They want to feel the yarn, know the stitches and it's a great way to break the ice. Non-knitters think you are a freak.

So, we settled in the livingroom after lugging a modest amount out of the car (no need to lug it all in right) and we get to talking (and knitting). Bruce had been here before (and a good thing as it was a long and winding road we went down to get to Gagetown) and they knew he was on his way to the college. But, they said they couldn't really tell for sure if he was telling the truth on account he'd never palyed them any music in the years he stayed with them. So, back out the car to get instruments and music (for me) and I set down the sock and picked up my drum for a bit of a mini-session. Where there are musicians, there will be music.

What we hadn't anticipated was that there were others of us in the room. Another family was staying the night and their daughters Neeva and Jessica (both also from Ottawa) played piano. So, we played and listened and had a grand old time. Not fir the first time had I entered a room full of strangers to discover I was amongst kindred sprits and all because I showed who I really was and what I liked to do.