That time of year again

Well, it's marriage prep time again.  Except that it's usually in February; however, this year, we smartened up and lobbied for a change in date in order to trick the flu bugs and fly in under the cold-and-flu-season wire.  At this moment, with exactly 24hours to go, no one is sick.  However, I am unready to make any formal pronouncements until all presentations are over and done with.  That makes for a very tense ten days.  Hmmm.  Prayers?   Yes, thank you very much.
But, before I go, one funny anecdote.  The kids  and I were driving past the old folks home and Hannah pointed out the room of our good friend's mother.
I said, "One day that will be me and you will visit me."
Hannah asked, "Will you like that?  Being with all those people?"
"No," I definitively replied.
"That's really sad, Mom," piped in Jacob.
 Hannah offered a solution, "Maybe you could live with one of your children instead."
Jacob, with his usual enthusiasm: "That's a great idea!"
Hannah, matter-of-factly:  "I claim her."
I was touched.

Fortieth Anniversary

For those of you who have the pleasure of knowing my parents, these two photos speak a thousand words.  (Or, I guess, two thousand words.)  My mom and dad celebrated 40 years of marriage on September 8th of this year.  That's quite the milestone:  one that deserves to be recognised by a wider audience than their immediate family.  Forty years ago they married at a small chapel in Toronto.  My dad wore a borrowed suit; his thighs were still over-developed from bike riding in Europe and the pants were a little confining.  My mom wore a white eyelet dress that she had sewn herself which later became the material for my older sister's First Communion gown.  She picked daisies at the side of a set of tracks for her bouquet.  Dad's hair was almost shoulder-length and mom's was to her waist, parted in the middle and worn long and straight.  As young children we giggled when looking through their wedding album at the one picture of our parents kissing, dad's long hair obscuring mom's face.

Their guest list was small:  close friends, immediate family and lots of Madonna House connections.  My dad's only family to attend were his cousin Jeremy/Jem and her family.  Jem (my mother's best friend and she who had originally set up the couple) also served as maid of honour.  Overseas flights were far too pricey for the English family to attend.  After the wedding they were dropped off by Fr. Francis Martin at an Ontario river to begin their honeymoon:  camping in September with a canoe christened Nick and Julie.

As a surprise, my sisters and I decided that we should fete them in an appropriate style:  understated and intimate.  My older sister was unable to attend (Texas is too far for a party); but my younger sister who lives in Halifax was able to arrange for a blessing after Sunday mass at their home parish.  We drove to Halifax from the beachhouse under the guise of shopping in the big city and showing the kids some of the highlights of my hometown.

Thus, when we arrived four hours after mom, dad, my sister and the twins had pulled in from the beachhouse, my parents were a little confused to be presented with flowers for their anniversary.  Not to mention that we were three weeks early.  So surprised were they that I began to wonder if I had counted incorrectly:  "Oh shoot, they've been married 39 years.  Next year is 40.  I really screwed up.  But my older sister is turning 39..."  I quickly realised that my math was correct and passed them a bouquet, a cake and a reservation for supper at their favourite restaurant.  The bouquet was specially chosen to represent their marriage and its fruit:  the hydrangeas are my mom and dad, the three roses are  their three daughters, the two daisy-like flowers are their sons-in-law, the three snap dragons are their granddaughters and the six spiky flowers (chosen for their masculine look) are the six grandsons.  A beautiful bouquet, isn't it?

The cake (gluten-free!) was a King Olaf cake from Scanway Bakery in Halifax:  a sort of mousse with a twist of Grand Marnier and a chocolate ganache icing.  The sort of cake of which one can only eat a very little piece.

The next day we did, in fact, tour many of the highlights of my hometown:  Point Pleasant Park, the waterfront and the Public Gardens.  The above is the duck pond at the Gardens.  The three boys repeatedly ran at top speed to the edge of the pond only to stop with millimetres to spare.

The best photo of the bunch.

Isaac, in the background, was fascinated by the pigeons (of which we have none in Barry's Bay).  He kept running after them, flapping his arms and yelling, "Birds!  Birds!"  Joe - well, Joe was Joe.

Requisite grandstand photo.

Then we went to the waterfront where most of us ate Cow's ice cream and stared at big boats in the harbour and strange people on shore.

Eventually we had to go home to the Bay where we were scheduled for a family photo for our parish's pictoral directory.  The appointment was at 4:45pm on Tuesday.  We left the night before in order to drive through Monday night/Tuesday morning and arrive in time for showers, rest and a change of clothes.

We got home at 4:20pm in time for Dave to shower and the rest of us to change into appropriate clothing.  I, however, had turned off the hot water tank and the shower was nixed.  Strangely, the photo  is one of our best ever.  Funny, that.

Five Islands, Nova Scotia

My dad, a geology professor at Dalhousie University, brings his field methods class to this spot every fall to begin the term.  Thus, he wanted to give us a chance to witness the beauty of this part of the province.  The photos speak for themselves.

Almost everybody is in this photo, even a flying Sarah.  And a three year old ready for his nap.

Before we had the chance to say, "Don't climb the slippery rocks!", Joseph and Jacob were beginning a summit.  They were quickly called back.

The two culprits.  Ever ready to answer the calls of the meager amounts of testosterone coursing through their bodies.

I love this photo.  Love. This. Photo.  (Even though I hate that method of breaking up a sentence for emphasis...)  My mom saw my dad, Sarah, Dave and Joe up ahead and worked some camera magic.  This is definitely one for posterity.

Benjamin with his godmother.  It was very windy that day and it was all she could do to keep that veil from carrying her away.

Ben was over the moon when he saw his first bald eagle.  He ran ahead of us and, all on his own, saw two bald eagles swooping and diving for supper.

These photos of the back of me are truly an exercise in humility and control issues!  However, I love this one almost to the same degree as I do the one with my dad and this crew.

Midway back I finally decided that I could no longer keep on my shoes.  The soft red clay was calling and I bared my toes and ran to the outgoing tide.  However, the clay got sinkier and sinkier and I feared that it was becoming a little more quick-sandy than clay-like; so, I abandoned my trek and headed back to shore.  Joseph, Hannah and Jacob accompanied me.

And Isaac; I can't forget Isaac.

One of the highlights of this beach is that when the tide is out we really are walking on the ocean floor. Thus, there is a local five and ten kilometre race called Not Since Moses.  It took me a while to figure out the reference to the Parting of the Red Sea.  Clever.

Don't believe me?  Check out those water lines on the cliffs!  We really are on the ocean floor.

More beauty.  If I were cheesily evangelical, I would photoshop an excerpt from a Psalm across that photo.

The park is also a campground.  Perhaps this is why there are handy taps situated throughout the grounds.  We used them to wash our feet.

And get our blankies wet.

Birthday, Back-to-school Roundup

 Isaac turned three on the thirtieth of August.  I thought that I had better post this before I get back to vacation photos lest the birthday get lost in the fray.  Here he is with his one and only present.  After four other children I finally realise that birthdays really don't matter much until a child hits four or five.  Before that age, birthdays are more of a source of confusion and mild fear as flaming candles atop cakes come in procession followed by overbearing siblings bringing gifts that they really want to open. It's all slightly traumatic.  Thus, we have pared things down.  The result:  if there's a gift from a grandparent or godparent, then there's a gift.  I did had a wonderful brainwave hit me that said, "Bring Isaac to the dollar store and buy him three helium balloons."  And, so, I tried.  We presented ourselves at the counter and was told that the helium container was empty and would not be filled for another five days.  I bought him a key chain with killer whales on it.

 At least I blew up some balloons.  I also put up streamers by attaching them between the wall cupboard and the hanging light fixture.  I then kept walking into the streamers threatening all sorts of chaos.

 I think that Hannah could have done a better job.  Isaac agrees.

On his birthday video all that can be heard above the Happy Birthday song is, "Fire!  Mommy!  Fire!"

 Blow it out before your siblings get there first, young man.

 And then Dave turned 37 on the first of September and I forgot to take the customary birthday shot; so I faked this one on the first day of school. If Dave looks a little, umm, peaked, it is because he was heading back to school after leaving school only five hours before.  Late night, anyone?  Photocopying at midnight...

 All those not going to school get to stay in their pyjamas.  Superman included.

Joseph's hat is neon orange.  He chose it so that people would differentiate more easily between him and Ben.  "I've had enough!" he said, taking matters into his own hands.

 It does look chilly, doesn't it?  I would love to say, Don't worry, it's only the mornings.  But I would be lying.  This was a very short summer dictated entirely by the close and opening of school.  Not even Superman can change the weather.