old friends and border guards

i heard the most appalling thing the other day.
i was standing in line at Sobey's and i overheard a conversation that went like this:
"which cheese did you choose?"
"monterey jack"
"hm.  cheese is cheese."

it was literally a crisis moment for me.  do i step in and educate?  do i offer some boursin?  i stood there and glanced at the speakers out of the corner of my eye.  they were in their early twenties.  babies.  a prickle of pity, but also something akin to judgement?  incredulity? maybe a little anger?  i decided not to speak up, but found a friend leaving the store at the same time as me and quickly informed her of the overheard blasphemy.  she mentioned cracker barrel, i recalled aged gouda, and some hope returned to my saddened heart.

last friday night i was overwhelmed with cheese greatness.  why?  i was in BC, surrounded by friends who understand "mon petit demon".  so they came over to leah's house laden down with a multitude of cheeses.  comfort and joy!  we ate and talked and bloated and laughed.  it was fantastic.  there's something so cozy about being surrounded by old friends - like memory foam.  you just sink right in and feel supported in all of your two thousand parts.  they know you, and remember that time you...and the way you...and how you...and they still love you.  and believe the best about you.  and trust your intentions and understand your heart.  and you for them. 

the opposite of an old friend is a border guard. 

picture a car filled with three women in their thirties (i'm one, we're all cute and a little giddy being sans children).  it's early saturday morning and we're attempting a run across the border for some shopping while i'm in town.  we have our passports ready. 

we have not discussed it but i think we're all planning on beginning the border-guard relationship with large smiles and a hint of flirtation.  we pull up, the windows are rolled down.  we each make eye contact and hitch up the smiles so that they hit the corners of our eyes, just a little.  sparkle.  say hello. 

back peddle!  this man does not want smiles that hit the eyes!!

serious faces, still soft, but more contemplative.  as if to say "you have a gun.  yes.  we see that and respect your power and authority, but can't you see that we are as harmless as doves?"  don't look at each other.  remain calm.

oh, wait, he's lightening up.  offer some info, bring the smiles up half a notch.

back peddle!  yes and no will do, say nothing more.  stop smiling all together.  begin praying for mercy. angle the eyebrows - think shar pei, or hound dog, but try not to look desperate.  embody submission.

slowly drive away.

because our friend Jacyln is sure that the border crossings are heavily bugged (a.k.a. they can hear you) say positive things for the first thirty seconds.  "what a kind man.  i'm so glad he takes his job seriously.  my!  i feel safe, don't you?" 

then gun it and breathe out and complain for a good five minutes. :) if old friends are memory foam, boarder guards are a bed of nails.  or maybe a sleeping bag with a snake at the bottom.  i'm glad we made it out alive!

and truly, as long as you're with friends you love, even militant border guards can be fun.  after.

so, a toast.  to old friends, and new friends who feel like old friends, and strangers who will one day become old friends.  to you.

cheers.

holiday eve

so i'm all smiles and giggles today - well, maybe not ALL, but the percentage is high.  why?  you ask...
tomorrow i fly to BC for a long-awaited weekend away.  Scott has taken multiple trips since we've arrived in this fair land of Saskatoon, and has been holding out a glittering carrot of hope:  "one day i'm going to send you away for a weekend".  granted, most of his trips have been workish ones, but many have also included an extra day to see family and friends.  so, i'm cashing in!  the glittering carrot has been turned into coconut carrot cupcakes and will travel with me.  i just returned from the library with a juicy novel in hand, i've got a book of crosswords (they make me feel smart and stupid at the same time), and a box of wool and knitting books awaiting me across the border in Washington.  it feels surreal that i'll be in the arms of my dear friends in a mere 24 hours.  hoorah!

i will miss my family however.  my kids are in this glorious stage of imaginative play.  last night they spent a full hour with polly pockets in the bathroom sink.  and sunday night they slept together in a tent in one of their bedrooms.  my son crawled into bed with me a few mornings ago (he still gives me daily morning snuggles, something i'm going to hold onto until it gets glaringly awkward) and he said "mom, i just gave my sister some snuggles.  it was AWESOME!  i told her she was pretty".  come on!!  that is just riches, riches on riches.

and, of course, i will miss my husband.  my marriage is a sleepover with my very best friend every day of the week (with great benefits).  i do not look forward to a cold bed, and to phone conversations that always leave me feeling short-changed.  life is always better spent when spent with him.

but i'll manage.


we are definitely into winter here in the prairies.  scott went for a run in snow and a temp of minus ten on the weekend - my own personal Rocky!  i asked if he yelled "Jaaannnneeettt" in a voice that sounded like his nose is broken.  but he didn't.  shame. 
we also went tobogganing on monday as a family - it's always good to feel that you are coming close to death on remembrance day.  this was my first time on a sled in 9 years - i've been nursing a damaged tailbone.  so, when i ended up rocketing down a hill BACKWARDS with my daughter, i panicked.  i bailed.  i'm sorry to say that i didn't feel the worst of it, poor girl.  i am in need of some basic training in my war with snow, obviously.   today the sun is bright and the shadows blue and the ground white - it is truly beautiful.  but i am looking forward to seeing some green :). 

well, i'm off to pack and clean the on-suite.  or, at least pack.  i'll see many on you soon!

Friday night

you will NEVER guess what i did this weekend.  no, don't even try, it's pointless.
i was with my friend when she gave birth to her beautiful baby girl friday night.  YES!  it was incredible, absolutely awe inspiring. 
awe
in
spir
ing.

to see my friend's stomach, hard as a rock, shifting downwards, i promise you i watched it dropping.  lots of breathing, lots and lots and lots of pain, bodily fluids, exhaustion, waiting, waiting, suffering, surviving, a few minutes of scrambling and medical professionalism and then there's a baby girl! little finger nails, peeking out between her lashes, staring at her mother, smiling at her father (i swear!).

i must say, i feel for the husband.  i know, i know, what a ridiculous thought when staring at your dear friend who is hardly able to breath she's in so much pain..  but i felt completely helpless, there was nothing i could do to take any pain away from her, all i could offer was a hand to hold and a smile and some encouraging words.  after a while i started wondering if my "you're amazing!  you're doing so incredible!" were starting to irritate.  i mean, i was irritating myself.  and i looked at her man, so intent and caring and calm and thought - it sucks. i wonder if most men think "this is my fault.  what have i done?"

at one point she was sitting on an exercise ball, and her husband was sitting behind her on a chair, and she was leaning back on him.  he was supporting her and talking with her and holding her.  what a beautifully intimate picture of their marriage to be privileged to witness.  i bet my mouth was open.

and then, to see her baby stare into her eyes.  i thought i'd never witness it again - it has to be one of the most beautiful of all life's moments.  and THEN, and i was waiting for this, watching my friend realize "holy crap!  I just did that!  I'm invincible!!".  there's nothing like the rush you get from birthing a child - experiencing the impossibility of life.  one minute you think you're going to die, and the next you think nothing could kill you.  if only they could harness the strength of a brand new mom.  then they could feed it to one-day-old moms. there could be a series of little white capsules you break open that are labelled "when baby reaches two". 

and, in case you're wondering, we made it through the entire process without me seeing her lady parts.  nothing short of miraculous.  i didn't have to relive grade 10 biology, hallelujah!  and my friend did not lose her sense of privacy (that's pronounced with short "i" sounds, like the British say it.  i've decided it sounds more sophisticated that way.  especially when your five year old busts in the bathroom.  "give me some privicy!").

sorry that my friday night was much better than yours.  i bet your saturday night was better than mine though, so we're even.  unless you were sick on the couch as well - then i guess i'm still winning. :)