A Morally Superior Turkey

Because this is my blog, I get to be on my soapbox for a little while. My topic today: Thanksgiving and the plight of the factory turkey. Earlier this year Ryan and I read a book called "Farm Sanctuary." I recommend it to everyone. It's a great conversation starter and is - no pun intended - truly "food" for thought. The author is a vegan, but reading the book didn't make us want to be vegans. Gene Bauer runs two animal sanctuary farms - one in upstate New York and one in Southern California - for abused factory farm animals. His coverage of the treatment of animals on factory farms was enlightening and alarming. I have probably just been naive, but I was truly horrified to learn about the conditions in which factory farm animals live -- many in boxes or crates that don't allow them to sit, lie down, or turn around - ever. While I believe God has set us over the animals, I also think he expects us to protect them and treat them humanely. So while I still enjoy eating them (sorry little guys!) I want to know that the animals I'm eating had a safe, healthy life and weren't tortured for my access to cheap food. And that's basically what it comes down to -- the more animals a factory farm can cram in, the faster they can fatten them up, the cheaper the food is on the grocery shelf. Chickens are bred to have such large breasts (better for the shopper, right?) that they can't walk properly and often become crippled. Male chicks are thrown into mulchers because they aren't profitable for egg laying. Dying and dead animals are ground up to make feed for other animals. And the list goes on. As a family, we haven't come as far as we'd like to yet - that would mean buying our meat, eggs, and milk only from family farms, but we're making small strides. And this year, that includes buying what I like to call a "morally superior turkey." A turkey to eat - yes - but one that has been allowed to roam and peck and roost and all the things that birds naturally do. It costs a lot more than a Butterball, but it feels good to tell the kids that there are better ways to save money than supporting the cruel treatment of animals. It's good to be reminded that our food doesn't just magically appear on the grocery shelves -- we are accountable for what we buy at the market. So if you haven't purchased your Thanksgiving turkey, try Googling "Eat Local". And have a very happy Thanksgiving!

Veteran's/Remembrance Day

Even though I'm a day late (and a dollar short, but I won't get into that...) I need to give a hearty salute to my grandfathers, my aunts and uncles, my "dads", my sister, Stacy, her husband, Jeff, my brothers-in-law, countless friends, and my own sweet husband, for the sacrifices they've made in the defense of our country and the fact that although they may not literally have laid their lives on the line on a daily basis, they are willing to. Thanks guys! And a special treat - from 12 year old Patrick, who, to my dismay, often expresses a desire to be a tank commander - here is a Veteran's Day poem:

Never Again

Remember, remember,
That morn of November,
When enemies signed for the killing to cease.

For most it was blessed,
For many overdue,
But many already rested in peace.

The firing has stopped,
The dead have been buried,
And we hope for it never again.

For the truth about war is
The blood and the gore
That we saw in those swampy mud fields.

And now many years later
Neither friends nor long haters
Can forget that peace was the goal

When soldiers one and each
Threw themselves in the breach
To protect their loved ones back home.

“Never again”, we say,
“Never again
Shall we relive those gory four years”.

Remember, we shall,
For we should not forget
That war only brings us tears

On this day we remember
That morn of November
And our friends and loved ones who rest.

The Money Ghost and Hannah Montana

The only child I have who will pose for shots like this.

Autumn Shots (or "Amy finally learned how to post photos!")

Aidan apple-picking

Musings and Wanderings...

That's a nice way of saying that I don't have anything in particular to talk about, but felt guilty that I had neglected the blog for so long. I have friends who are such faithful bloggers - but, then again, I have friends who are good singers, great scrapbookers, incredible athletes, perfect hostesses, and snappy interior decorators. I need to come to grips with the fact that I will never be any of those things, either. Hmm... where to begin?

I took a sick day yesterday. This is remarkable only because I have never, ever, taken a sick day. Not during student teaching or real teaching or at Briercrest, or really, at any time when I've been in the workforce. I think it's because, growing up, you didn't stay home unless you were REALLY sick. My current boss, though, is a firm believer that you do everyone else in the office a favor by staying home - so as not to infect the otherwise healthy work population. I wasn't crawling-across-the-floor-to-the-bathroom-sick (sans Mom and Dad and the dark Burger King episode of 1977), but I was fatigued and coughing and congested. So, I stayed. At first it was incredibly dull. When I really started getting into it (as evidenced by still being in a bathrobe at 1PM watching "What Not to Wear") I started to think that I hadn't been productive enough. What is that about? Is that a Protestant work ethic thing? Who needs to be productive when they're home sick? Anyway, I did read, cover to cover, a fabulous novel. It's called "Mudbound" by Hillary Jordan. Not complex, but thoughtful and enjoyable. And now, recommended by me.

As I was sitting at home yesterday, a strange thought popped into my head. I can't say from where, exactly, but I started wondering why, when arriving home from a variety of destinations, people in my family always say "Home again, home again, jiggety jig!" Where does that come from? Are we the only ones who say it? So, I did what anyone living in the 21st century would do - I Googled it. And it turns out that there are TONS of families who say this when they arrive home and I could not find a single reference to its origin. I'd love to hear from you if YOUR family says this too. (Next time I will discuss "Happy Nappy Time" and"Off like a herd of turtles", both of which, in fact, may actually be familiar only to the Gunter family.)

I was mocked at work the other day for saying "trash" when I should have said "garbage." This was interesting to me as I have always believed the words to be totally interchangeable. In Canada, apparently, they are not. "Garbage" is what is in your house in a little pail. Trash would be piled in a landfill. You can still "trash talk" or be "trashy", but in the house, it's just garbage. You truly do learn something new every day.

The election -- I can't resist saying something about it. If you're one of my sisters, don't close the browser window just yet - it's not what you think. In fact, I am feeling a little defensive of Sarah Palin these days. Don't get me wrong - I'm no fan, but I think she is being dumped on now by people who previously supported her and touted her charms and abilities. Some of the things being said about her, by her own party (and her own campaign) are cruel and petty. Why do people have to do that? She was plucked from obscurity and put on a national stage and then she gets blamed for not being polished enough or prepared enough - and by her own people? That's madness. Interesting fact - in Australia, you get fined for NOT voting. Not sure what I think about that. I think everyone should exercise their right to vote - particularly women, who haven't always had the option - but I think we should at least have the FREEDOM not to vote.

I think that's it for now. I'm starting to get nervous about Christmas (the season which starts in Canada the day after Halloween, since Thanksgiving is in early October) already -- I haven't managed to get cards out in 2 or 3 years, last year I did no Christmas baking, and I've already been invited to two parties for which I have no babysitters. Sigh. Maybe I will take another sick day and contemplate it all.

The Fair Is A.....

My sisters know what comes next. " veritable smorgasbord..." This is from the classic animated film, Charlotte's Web (not the new live action version). It's the song that the barnyard animals sing to Templeton (and then he sings himself) to convince him that the task Charlotte has for him -- being sent to the fairgrounds to find a word to best describe Wilbur -- is a great job for a rat. Why all the children's literature trivia, you ask? It's because this past weekend we went to the 137th Annual Caledonia Fair. So, obviously, my children have had to listen to me sing this song ad nauseum, this week. It almost seems appropriate that the fair happened this week. About a week ago, we learned that one of our favorite contemporary American authors, David Foster Wallace, had ended his own life. If you've not been privileged to read any DFW - try to get your hands on one of his collections of essays - either, "Consider the Lobster" or "A Supposedly Fun Thing I'll Never Do Again." You might also Google his commencement address from Kenyon College a few years ago. But I digress. In the collection, "A Supposedly Fun Thing..." One of the "supposedly fun things" that he never planned to do again, was go to the Illinois State Fair. DFW deftly describes the two sides of a fair: the Carnie side and the Ag side. The Caledonia Fair had both. First, we wandered around in the Exhibition Hall. Aidan had a habitat poster and a "good penmanship" entry, but, alas, did not earn a ribbon. The Exhibition Hall is a wonderful display of the lost domestic arts. Well, not lost really, from the looks of the Hall. We saw exquisite examples of needlework, hand-smocking, quilting, crocheted lace, and hand-crafted jewelry. Aidan was pleased to see that there was a prize-winning Lego creation displayed. We didn't know this was an option and, truthfully, (and no offense to the Lego winner or his mother) but it was a project Aidan could have done blindfolded with one hand behind his back. We'll be entering next year! There were preserves and baked goods that were beautiful (and I assume tasty). A gentleman in our church won for his pickled beets and he proudly announced in church, while decked out in his choir robe, that he had beaten another parishioner who had bested him the year before! There was a 716 pound pumpkin that surpassed the weight of the second place pumpkin by more than double. Some of the displays that I found most puzzling were the champion bags of seeds, bales of hay, and ears of corn. Apparently each of these has it's own judging standards: even rows of kernels, no discoloration, no musty odor, no bugs (a given, I think). They all looked the same to my untrained eye, but I'm sure that they were a labor of love for their masters. After the Exhibition Hall we visited the animal barns. Naturally we were treated to the "Best Duck" and "Best Rabbit". We saw furry Galloway cattle and cockerel poultry with wonderful plumes of feathers on their heads. If you've ever seen pictures of women dressed in outrageous hats for Ascot, that just about describes the cockerels. This side of the fair leaves one pretty nostalgic for the simpler life. Then comes the midway. The Carnies that work the midway look like this is the very last thing they want to be doing with their lives. It actually made us a little sad -- the ride and game operators appeared to be listless drifters with no joy for their work. Last summer we went to Disneyland and the contrast between the ride operators at Disney and the carnies couldn't be more extreme. Somehow no one ever pushed them to discover their gifts and their calling and now they are in a turn-key job without a sense of place -- moving from one small town to the next. The kids, of course, loved the midway, joyless carnival workers or not. I was just hoping that I was being a responsible parent and that I wouldn't end up on the evening news -- victim of a freak carnival accident. In between, we sampled hand-dipped corn dogs, heard some earnest fiddlers and singers of Contemporary Christian music, and dodged the lure of the game stall operators. (Well, almost -- I did plunk down $5 to let Patrick handle a machine gun in an attempt to win a giant stuffed something.) The game stall operators reminded me of the wayward woman from the book of Proverbs -- calling to young men in the streets to make them veer from the righteous path. All good things must come to an end and when we had admired the last cow and pumpkin and spent our last ride ticket, we exited the fair. Until next year. All together now: "Oh, wow, look at him now. Zuckerman's Famous Pig!"

The First Day of School

Today was the first day in a brand new school (again) for Patrick, Annie, and Aidan. Yesterday, Ryan had them write a paragraph about the year ahead - thinking about their personal goals for the year and how they could improve on previous years. (Yes, heady stuff - that's what all that PhD money buys you...) They went something like this: "I will not act weird." "I will not argue with people about things I don't really know anything about." "I will not draw attention to myself." Couldn't we all benefit from these virtues? Seriously - if I went to work everyday with these mantras: 1. Don't act weird. 2. Don't argue about things about which I know nothing. 3. Don't draw attention to myself --- I would be very successful and well-liked! Another family goal was to pack healthier lunches. We already do pretty well, but we wanted to cut down on processed lunch meats and sugary snacks disguised as fruit. However, our efforts were somewhat thwarted by a note home telling us that a child in one of our children's classrooms was severely anaphylactic and so we should not bring: 1. peanut products 2. nuts 3. eggs 4. Anything produced in a factory with nuts or eggs 5. Anything that could have come in contact with any surface involving nuts or eggs. Now I don't know what to pack in the lunches. The strange thing is, neither Ryan nor I can remember knowing ANYONE, when we were kids, who was allergic to anything -- maybe a run-of-the-mill allergy like dust or hay or milk, but nothing like the things we're encountering now. I digress. The day turned out to be a total success. God has been gracious to us in the provision of good teachers and kind companions and our kids came home very excited. We're excited for a school that follows the liturgical calendar (tying in our home and church life), prays faithfully, and cares about the community. The kids need to brush up on the Sign of the Cross (Notre Dame is a Catholic Elementary School) but then again, who doesn't? Tomorrow -- Ryan's first day. I should go and make sure his name is on all his things.

Too much stuff and Darfur bags

One thing that moving always confirms for us is how much stuff we've managed to accumulate. I've been unpacking things that I haven't used in years, yet once again I've boxed them up (packing them carefully so they won't be damaged) and moved them across the country. Today Ryan finished our closet. I'm troubled by the fact that I have more clothes that I DON'T wear than 90% of the people in the world have to wear. I don't think that Christians are prohibited from having nice things, or even lots of things, but I do wonder about the excesses in our lives. Much of what I have has been given to me as gifts or handed down to me, used, but it's there nevertheless. Maybe I should try to get rid of one (or two) articles of clothing for every one new thing that I bring in. I'd be interested in hearing your thoughts on the matter.

On an entirely unrelated (maybe not) note: I must put in a plug for Darfur Bags. A friend of a friend, who lives (I think) in Manitoba (that's in Canada for all of my fellow Americans) makes these great messenger bags out of recycled (aka used previously) fabrics. They are gorgeous and very creative and she sends 100% of the proceeds to a charity benefitting the women of the Darfur region. Here's her blog, where you can view the bags: www.bags4darfur.blogspot.com
I've purchased several for gifts and every one has been received enthusiastically. And what a great story to tell when you show someone your bag. She does make masculine versions from time to time. Also - she did make one for a friend out of that friend's own vintage fabrics (children's clothes, sentimental items, etc) so maybe you have something you'd like her to recycle into a stylish bag. She collects buttons for this project too, so contact her if you have scads of those you're wanting to ditch. Sorry - did I mention her name is Joyce?

Am I a "Granola"?

Those of you who went to college with me, or have ever lived in Colorado, will know exactly what I mean by this statement. No, I have not stopped shaving, but today I went and procured a --- drum roll please--home composter. First, I have to say that we are loving Ontario's commitment to recycling. It's amazing how little actual garbage we have. One of my sisters, who shall remain nameless (but you know who you are!) said to me, "We're Republicans. We don't recycle." Tsk tsk. Now we've decided to take it a step further. Everyone in Caronport had a compost pile, but I was reluctant to have a pile of rotting food in my backyard. However, I've done a little research, prompted by the offer of home composters at our local county office, and discovered that, properly tended to, a composter doesn't have to be disgusting and will churn out some sweet smelling rich soil for our garden (in 6 months or so...) It has a lid and will sit in the side yard (so no pile of rotting food outside the back door). Our current anal practice is to seal up all of our food scraps in plastic produce bags, before putting them in the trash (to cut down on that trash can smell) so we really don't need to alter our habits all that much. You can even put coffee filters, tea bags, hair (I have lots of this), and clothes dryer lint in the composter. Between the home composter and the recycling bin, I'm betting that we'll only have 1-2 kitchen trash bags full of actual trash next week. I'll report back to you and let you know how close we came. I will still be shaving, however...

IKEA

We have discovered IKEA. If you live even remotely close to a major urban center, you probably have one close by. Run, don't walk.

"As she began loyal, thus she remains."

This is the official motto for Ontario, Canada. Populated early on by British loyalists fleeing the whole revolutionary scene in the "colonies". This led to the current practice of putting little crowns on their license plates. The American in me bristles at all of this (and the occasional prayers for the Queen in church - not that I'm against praying for anyone, but it doesn't seem right somehow - I want to shout "down with the monarchy" or "no taxation without representation"). In any case, here we are. I'm humbled to admit that merely a month after starting this blog, I'm already quite behind in updating it. I'll attempt to give you the short story about our less-than-ideal departure from Caronport, SK, and our journey to this Anglo-phile bastion...
So, first of all, hats off to QwestHaven Relocation for actually getting all our things here, mostly unscathed. The road, however, was not pretty. I had hoped to have a leisurely departure from Caronport - a day for the movers, a day for cleaning, and a day to breakfast with friends and wave goodbye to our little town. What really happened was last minute rescheduling, various moving crew members quitting, a 4:30 PM start time for packing the truck, having to recruit local high school students to stand in for the recently departed moving crew, and a harried and hasty departure from town. Once we actually got on the road, we did have an enjoyable cross-country trek (aided by Red Bull for me and a couple of loaned DVD players - thanks to Jeff & Stacy, and Mom!) We managed to squeeze in a lovely visit with friends we hadn't seen in years (a shout-out to Josh and Bryonie for putting up with wine and nibbles in a Holiday Inn Express room) and a fun visit to Chicago. We rolled into Caledonia, Ontario (population approximately 10,000 former British loyalists) on Monday, July 21st, and spent our first evening in our new home. The movers came the next day and the rest is history. (Some of that history involves already having locked ourselves out of aforementioned new house. This is a great way to get to know the neighbors!) We had prayed for a smooth transition, and friends, for the children, and God has been pleased to grant both. We inherited a trampoline in the backyard and our kids have been having a blast getting to know both the trampoline, and the children across the street, who seem to have been waiting for us to show up. Interesting tidbit about Ontario -- your milk comes not in cartons, but in liter size plastic bags. You have to purchase a milk pitcher (my ignorance on all these points provided great amusement for at least one employee at the local supermarket) in which to put your plastic bag, and then you cut off one corner to pour the milk. Very environmentally friendly, but a little strange nonetheless. Fair warning to any of you who come to visit us. Humidity is another factor we're getting used to. I guess the great thing about having lived the oh-so-transient Air Force and student life is that no climate is exactly BRAND new. We can say - "Remember this humidity from Mississippi?" Or plug in some other condition and locale. In other news, I've applied for an academic advising position at Redeemer University College, where Ryan will be teaching, and now that I've interviewed, I'm just waiting to hear something. Which leads me to my current frustration - waiting on Citizenship and Immigration Canada. I'm sure that things are just as bleak for my Canadian friends trying to go live in the US, but since I've nothing to compare my experience to, I'll judge that it is officially very trying. Ryan's work permit expires tomorrow and we've been waiting weeks and weeks for our renewed permits to arrive. Initially we were told to send them in at least 30 days in advance. Processing time has now been extended to 48 days and I can imagine that this will only go up. Meanwhile, we have "implied status" which means that while we can legally remain in the country and work, we are prisoners in this foreign land. If we leave, we may be denied re-entry. This has already resulted in the cancellation of a weekend trip to the Finger Lakes and a journey to Syracuse, NY to see some good friends. It was also threatening to ruin (or at least make uber-stressful) my trip next weekend to my sister Lindsay's graduation from college. I insisted to Ryan that I would indeed go and was willing to sit on the US side of the border for as long as it took. However, kindly Etienne at the CIC call centre informed me this morning that since Ryan's work permit is what makes us legally entitled to be in Canada, that it is only Ryan who is trapped here. The rest of us are free to come and go as we like, until such time as we are officially rejected by the Crown. Good news for me. Props to Etienne, despite the half-hearted efforts of some of his comrades at Citizenship and Immigration.

Track Stars

This is news only really of interest to grandparents and devoted aunts and uncles. Patrick and Annie competed in a school district track meet today. Annie had a third place finish in both the 50 meters and the high jump (yes, really). Patrick had a first place finish in the high jump and the 100 meters, and third place finishes in the 200 and 400 meters. Patrick was also the lead off runner for the boys' 4x100 relay team, which finished first, despite some trash-talk from one of the other elementary schools. :) OK - now, does this take any of the shine off of these results: grades 4-6 do what is known as a "standards" track and field competetition. Which means that Annie did not necessarily finish in the third spot in her competetitions, but acheived a third place TIME. I think this to avoid having anyone with hurt feelings. Even little slow kids can get a certificate. Patrick's relay team did beat out a bunch of other teams in that competition, however. While on the one hand, I am all for kids not feeling vastly inferior because of their poor genetics, no one is really fooling the kids. At the end of each school term, the elementary school has an awards assembly. Kids get awards for the various school subject areas, and overall awards based on grade point average. The last time I congratulated Annie on one of her awards, she said to me, "Everyone gets something." So, the kids have it figured out. Still, I have to commend teachers for innovations like not letting children choose their own teams in PE.

(Let it be known that this writer was the smallest in her class every year and that she always got picked to be the one "coming on over" in Red Rover because she was too tiny to break through anyone's arm holds.)

Visiting Toronto

So this is for all of you who are wondering, "What's there to do in Toronto? I hope that it won't be like visiting Ryan and Amy in Saskatchewan..." Here are a couple of websites to check out and help you plan your next vacation:
http://www.torontotourism.com/visitor/HomePage.htm

http://www.toronto.com/

We'll be living about an hour from the city, so the sky (or the SkyDome) is the limit!

Lake House Relaxation and House-Hunting

We just returned from a fabulous vacation, courtesy of Mom and Steve, who graciously allowed us to interrupt their lives for two weeks. They live right on a lake in the lovely Northwest - complete with private dock. The kids had so much fun kayaking, paddle-boating, playing with dogs, and searching for wildlife (thanks, Steve for coming up with "Wildlife Bingo") that they never once asked to watch TV. Ryan and I got away to Ontario for a couple of days of house-hunting near Hamilton. (Why is it that it is so much cheaper to fly to Ontario from Seattle, than it is to fly to Ontario from Regina? It is over a 1000 miles further!) It is stressful to know that you have less than two days to find a home, but God was gracious and dropped the perfect home right in our laps. Caledonia, Ontario will be our home as of July 21st. We're excited at the prospect of hosting friends and family and showing off the wonders of the Niagra region, the Greater Toronto Area, and Festival Country. Thank you Gloria Payton, real estate agent Extraordinare! We arrived back in Seattle in time to celebrate, Hawaiian style, the birthdays of our own 10 year old, Annie Kate, and my new sister, Deanna. (Of course, all family members present were thinking wistfully of last summer's jaunt to the actual Hawaii -- Mom, Steve, what about next year?)

Are we trendy yet?

I've resisted the whole blogging thing -- I gave in to Facebook ("to connect with my students") but insisted I would not, could not blog. Everyone's blogging. No one will read it. And yet, here I am. I am a blogger. Perhaps I will be a "Diary of Anne Frank"ish blogger and my words are now for posterity. More likely, it will be one more thing on an ever growing to-do list. But, my family has become increasingly hostile about my lack of updates on and photos of their neice/nephews/grandchildren. I can't seem to send a photo over email without inadvertently taking up all of the available memory in my friends' and relatives' inboxes. So, I thought this would be the next best thing. If you blog it, they will come.

Here we go......