Olympic Sized Adventure - Part 2

Olympic Sized Adventure - Part Two: The Adventure becomes Legend.

Where was I? Oh yes, lineup one was winding towards the gate and we were about to head into lineup two for the Coca-Cola Pavilion. It was all downhill from there. As my girlfriend Chrissy and I rolled two strollers and 5 children into the breach once more Jack spilled his hot chocolate into his seat. All of it. Into the seat of a stroller with a cover that cannot be removed because the manufacturers maintain that its surface can be easily cleaned with a brush and a damp cloth, of which I had neither. Awesome. I have yet to remove these stains by the way and  it is not for a lack of trying. I digress.

Lineup two heads inside, finally, I thought. But no, we are herded into lineup three. This is when I discover Isla had silently, without affect, filled her seat with her hot chocolate. So now we are in very close quarters with hundreds of people and I am all, "Look on the bright side Alicia, at least you are not claustrophobic! Her back will be to the wall in the picture. I know it looks like she shat her pants but at least it doesn't smell! Think about the picture with the torch, Jack and Isla will tell their children about this day."

It was then one of them darted, I still can't remember who, half disappearing in to the multitudes and it all gets a little blurry. In this tiny room teeming with goodness knows who my MommaBear kicked in and I frantically grabbed for my child and fumbled my camera. This is the camera that Michael and I had gifted each other for our 5th wedding anniversary and this was by no means the first time it had been fumbled, but this was the day that it broke. Moments before I would use our too-expensive-to-replace-right-now camera to take once in a lifetime family heirloom photographs of my precious hot chocolate soaked children with the Olympic Torch. To say that my heart sank would be to downplay my sentiment enormously.

The meandering line pushed forward. Queue-mates proffered words of kindness and condolence, my face having told the tale, my wonderful friend said that she would be more than happy to take pictures of my kids too. Crestfallen I wandered on, into yet another room, then another still. Three hours in this day was feeling old and so was I.

This last room was where the coveted torch was kept. We ushered the kids into the appropriate lane (there were heaps of activities I had neither the energy nor the desire to take the kids to) and felt my heavy heart lift. Coke had provided professional photographers and individualized links to your picture online. Granted it would be flanked in advertising but I was stoked. Until, at the front of the line after HOURS of waiting, Miss Isla decided she was NOT, under any circumstances going to have her picture taken. ARE YOU KIDDING ME??!!!!

Jack had his taken. Then Mommy. Then Isla relinquished begrudgingly, but not without conditions!

I couldn't get out of there fast enough. I just wanted to go home. I changed Isla (who was still in the throes of potty training) into the dry clothes I had brought, searched the grounds for something to sop up the now cold/congealing chocolate mess in the stroller and got ahold of my husband. He wasn't coming. Work was hectic and he wouldn't be able to get downtown before 5, which meant I still had as many hours to kill.  Awesome again.

Chrissy graciously offered to stay for lunch and so we squeezed our party of 7 into Subway. Then she (insert pang of jealousy here) took her tired babies home. I needed to get a birthday present so I walked from Gastown into downtown amid throngs of our cities guests all the way down Robson. My children had fallen asleep when I ran into Jack's godfather. I saw his camera and asked where he had been. The Cauldron. Great. I would take the kids when they woke and steal his photos, his would be better anyway! I told him about the adventure our day had been, and yet again in an attempt to be optimistic I spouted, "Well, at least she didn't pee, right?!"

Fast forward to the GAP. Browsing through the racks of clothing I can hear my precious cargo stirring in the stroller. I notice a puddle under Isla's seat. A trifecta of AWESOME!!! I am out of dry clothes so I buy her an uber cute pair of purple skinny jeans on sale. They in no way go with her outfit and I practically have to wrestle them onto her.

It is now 5 o'clock, we sit outside the Gap on Robson, leaning against the window, awaiting Michael's imminent arrival. Isla is digging the tunes. She has a sizing sticker half hanging off her cheek. It looks like a microphone. She dances, like no one is watching, hands on her hips, her recent skullet still shorn close, wearing her new jeans and a terribly mismatched olympic sweater, and begins to scoop at the air. Big grasping scoops as though she is wafting some unnoticed scent towards her torso, then over her face. It was hysterical and very much to the amusement of prolific amounts of tourists passing by. She honestly looked like a tiny crazy person and her innocence washed away the stress of the day.

I wish I could have taken a picture to share with you, but the latter half of this day will have to be passed down through the good old fashioned art of story telling alone.

Olympic Sized Adventure - Part 1

Both my husband and myself have had the pleasure of living in two Olympic host cities. In 1988 we were elementary school students in Calgary and in 2010 we were lucky enough to be living on the Left Coast when the opportunity came around again.

Like many Vancouverites we contemplated renting out our home to turn a tidy profit and take off somewhere, anywhere,  for the duration of the 2010 games. But I caught some sort of procrastination bug and so we stayed. Truth be told we were REALLY excited the closer February got, both for the kids and ourselves!

Despite the ill-timed arrival of the Pineapple Express, the kids and I braved a virtual squall to greet the torch as it ran by. We stood expectantly, brimming with pride and excitement, amid the masses for a moment that, although it came and went in the blink of an eye, has lingered with us. It was then I decided what I would really like was for the kids to have their picture taken with the torch. Yes, I thought, a picture with the torch would be epic.

The Vancouver Organizing Committee held a lottery for Olympic tickets and we were delighted to secure 4 reasonably priced tickets to Women's Hockey. The women slaughtered the other team and our little family had a blast. We were officially swept up in Olympic fever!

My desire to have a photo of my children was only fuelled by the fervour. We picked a day that Michael would head off to work early then meet us downtown (in the heart of Olympic mayhem) by 11am so that I would be able to get back on Skytrain with my enormous stroller. Ridership was up  by dizzying proportions during the Olympics, which was great, but commuting with two knee-highs really had become a two man job at this point.

Once Jack, Isla and myself made it to Gastown we met up with some great friends and headed to Starbucks for sustenance. I bought the kids their own reusable mugs, filled with hot chocolate, and we headed into the breach joining the first of 3 hour long lineups by 9am.

Everything was going swimmingly, I could practically see the pictures of my children's smiling faces proudly clutching the torch, but that was all about to change.

To Be Continued...

Wordless Wednesday - Gold Fever Follies

Gold Fever Follies 2010 Program

CBC

I have a longstanding love affair with CBC Radio 1. It began innocently enough as a young girl in my grandparents home where it was a constant not-so-white-noise in the background. On hot summer days the sounds from my grandmothers antique 35 watt Motorola radio could be heard drifting out of the kitchen. The wonderful cadence and vocal tones of their hosts and story tellers, every half hour the regular musical cues aloft in the house. The sound of the 10 o'clock count takes me back there everyday. To Jintie's garden and afternoon tea in the seat that was my mother's when she was young.

On road trips with my parents we would listen to Radio 1 as long as we could get a signal. A signal was good, it meant postponing the inevitable Glen and Jeanie duet to Blue Rodeo/Conway Twitty/Johnny Cash/... or the like that I dreaded as a teenager. Life is funny that way. I would give almost anything to sit in that backseat and give an audience once more.

Later, at my husband's family cabin, the summer CBC found me all over again, rekindling the passion. My grandmother had since passed away and the infamous radio had been bequeathed to me. It sat patiently and quietly in my basement room at my parents house. Years passed and I finally brought the 6X12U to Vancouver where it found its new home on my kitchen counter. The radio became my young family's morning ritual with Jack and Isla chiming in excitedly, "he/she said Canada lives here, we live in Canada too!".

Now in Rossland, on the living room side table, my beloved radio sits silent once more. There are no AM signals here nestled between the mountains. Instead I have added an app to the iphone. Streaming FM radio live over the internet ushers in the old tradition of a radio-coloured backdrop in a new way, ensuring our home is filled with story telling and music from across the land.

Return of the Rainy Day

When I was a girl growing up in Alberta rain was always so romantic. First there was this amazing smell. Then smell of ozone my parents would always say. Giant towers of cumulus clouds would roll in, usually with a breathtaking thunderstorm in tow, and the sky would open up in a spectacular fashion to unload its heavy burden. Then as quickly as the storm came it would be gone. Making Rainy Day plans is a tradition I have cherished since childhood. Saving up ideas for rainy day art and games, staying inside to snuggle up with a snacks and a movie. Bliss.

I travelled to Europe as a teenager and in France I was thrilled to feel truly warm rain for the first time. Later I visited Bali in the rainy season (at 99% humidity being dry was a relative concept) and the sudden rain would fill the streets, careening between raised sidewalks designed to channel the deluge. And despite its coastal perch, Perth Australia  reminded me of my Alberta home, hot and dry with spectacular summer storms.

In the fantastically green, fertile and lush city of Vancouver rain is different still. There is, except on the rarest of occasions, a distinct lack of that fantastic rain smell. There is no fanfare to herald the arriving wet. Thick dark clouds crawl across the city lingering for hours, days and at times even weeks. The winter Isla was born I swear it was 6 months before she felt the sun on her face. A lifetime. As much as I adored the Rainy Day ritual from my childhood, implementing it in Vancouver would be a great way to become a fat hermit (instead, Vancouver grinds to a halt to celebrate the snow day!). There were mornings that Jack would wakeup in the looming darkness and wonder out loud at the breakfast table if it were night time already. It would seem that, despite being native Vancouverites, my poppets were never thrilled by the Pineapple Express.

Shortly after landing in Rossland there was a sun shower. A sun shower! It was brief, it smelled fantastic and the sun shone the whole time.  Jack just about had a panic attack, "Mommy you told me it didn't rain in Rossland!". "Jack" I said, "I never said it wouldn't rain here, but the rain here is not like Vancouver and it'll be over soon." And like that it was gone. On Friday we had our first rainy day, and even that didn't last the whole day. I told the kids about why rain smells the way it does, just as it was explained to me by my parents, and I am so looking forward to finally passing along the legacy of the Rainy Day.

Wordless Wednesday

Rossland

Netflix

My husband and I are movie aficionados - some might say snobs - but we enjoy great films and then discussing them with equally snobby friends! Maybe it is a theatre thing. Stick us in a room with a screen or a stage as actors or audience and we are two immensely happy people!

In this season of our lives though we don't get out to see nearly as many plays or movies as we would like. In fact we have patronized far too many animated movies in the last two years then I would care to recount here! With one exception. The Fantastic Mr. Fox was one of the all time family faves of 2009. With great film snob friends in tow we went to the theatre for Isla's 2nd birthday and I was filled with pride knowing that my two small children enjoyed their first Wes Anderson film as much as I remember enjoying mine.

To remedy this situation in part, for Michael's last birthday I gifted him (and myself!) a mammoth plasma and surround sound system. We LOVE watching movies at home. Put the kids to bed, close the door, turn down the lights, turn up the volume and we are ready for our best viewing experience! In Vancouver I had recently discovered the $2 movie machine at Safeway. I think we are almost caught up on the new releases from the past few years - finally.

There is no such magical movie machine here in Rossland and I am having a hard time reconciling myself  to spending $6 to rent. We are falling behind again. My computer lacks the room and I lack the computer prowess to procure movies any other way...until now.

Netflix is coming to Canada. I am so stoked!!!!!