Giving Thanks...and Wishing

On Monday morning, our family bought fourteen frozen turkeys. The four of us, each with our own cart, marched in a line, one after the other. We went to the frozen section at the supermarket, got our turkeys, two each, filed back to the registers, through the parking lot, and loaded them all into the back of our van. Then we got in and drove to another store to get six more. That was our family outing. Needless to say, we couldn’t stop laughing and whispering how weird the whole endevour was. No, we are not a group of gluttons (in fact, my sister is vegetarian). No, these turkeys are not for us.

Every year, my dad cooks the turkeys for a Thanksgiving feast to be consumed by over three hundred University students and other “Victorians” at a local church. The day after the feast, my dad will use the remaining carcasses (don’t you just love that word?) and make enough turkey stock to last us a year (and then some!). This is our family tradition. On October 1st, 1999, my mum, dad, sister, and I left Ontario, Canada for a new chapter in our lives, which happened to be in Austria. Mittersill, a tiny village between Innsbruck and Salzburg, became our home for the next four years. It was our first time living away from any extended family and, sadly, the last time we would ever live in the same time zone as them. We moved back to the other side (West Coast) of Canada in 2003, and have been here ever since. With only the four of us, our Thanksgivings and other family-type gatherings, have taken on new traditions and ways of celebrating. Over the past fifteen-plus years, we’ve had students, friends, and other “stragglers” without family nearby come for a supper. We’ve also had some years without any sort of special meal or typical Thanksgiving festivities enjoyed by Canadians. We might eat leftovers some years, or other food not consisting of turkey, stuffing, and the like. But while these traditions are wonderful, and I love taking part in them, I don’t really care about the food. In fact, I’m not even a huge fan of turkey. What I love and miss most about living away from more family is the time together. I miss sitting around, talking about whatever comes to mind, playing “Just Dance” with my cousin, cuddling with another, being engulfed in great big uncle hugs, soft and gentle auntie and grandparent hugs. I miss playing games that need more than four players. I miss hearing the hearty laughter that always come with get togethers. Don’t get me wrong- we still see our family, but it isn’t as often as we’d like. Plane tickets cost way too much to jaunt across the country (and south to the states to visit my mum’s side) every month, or every major holiday, or even every year. Last October, I got to see my mum’s sisters and my cousins on that side for the first time in over ten years. I’m so thankful that I got to see them twice in the last twelve months. Unfortunately, and also fortunately, the last time we went to visit our Ontario crew was last December after the passing of my grandma and grandpa. It was great to see everyone, even if the occasion was a sombre one. I’ve been missing them a lot lately (my grandparents, I mean). I get angry that the last time I saw them was five years before then. I was still sick. I wish I could have seen them after I got better. I wish we could have spent more time together. We lived just a block away until I was five.

I feel cheated out of the other years. I feel cheated and angry that I missed so many years with extended family. I wish we lived close enough to take each other for granted. I wish going to my aunts and uncles’ houses didn’t involve packing a suitcase. I wish I got to see my little cousins grow up in person. I love seeing pictures and keeping updated over the internet, but it isn’t the same. I ache to see them, to hug them, to just be with them. I wish for a lot of things, and sometimes I forget all the blessings that God has given me. I’m healthy. My parents and sister are healthy. We live in a beautiful house with wonderful neighbours. We have plenty of food and clean water to drink right from the tap. We belong to a church family that supports us, that loves us, that we love. We live in a country with education, freedom to express our faith, and healthcare. We have an adorable new puppy. We live in a city full of nature, hippies, and eclectic communities. We have friends. I've even made new friends over the past couple years and have grown incredibly close in a short span of time. We have work. I get to have free time, not having to work all day, every day of the week just to make ends meet. My family has a great relationship with one another. There is so much to be thankful for. Sometimes I need to list them out to be reminded of just how many blessings I have. Yeah, I miss my extended family. Yeah, not everything is perfect all the time, but with special outings with parents and my sister to go buy fourteen turkeys that we won’t even eat, what do I have to complain about? I wish you all a Happy Thanksgiving. Not just for one day, but for every day.

P.S. Here are some photos of Islay, the latest addition to our family:

Freyja

Freyja was a sweetheart. She was a bit of an odd duck- er, dog...
When she played with you, she would groan and play-growl, she would run circles around the yard without me even doing anything. She lifted her leg to pee like a boy. She wouldn't squirm when you picked her up. She rarely barked, and when she did, it sounded like a pubescent boy yelling--not at all intimidating or ferocious. Her fur was soft and golden. Her breath didn't stink. When she was really tired, she would lie on her back, legs sprawled, her side pushed against the wall. She was a pretty chill dog, unless new people or guests were around. She was content to relax during the day, having a lie down wherever the sun his the floor. She was sensitive. If any of us ever argued or even raised our voices, she would cower in a corner. She NEVER bit you.

She wasn't always perfect, mind. She liked mud and puddles but hated baths and having her nails clipped. In fact, every time she had them done (we couldn't even do it ourselves), my mum and I both would have to hold her down while the woman at the grooming place clipped them. Many scratches ensued (for me anyway). She shed...A LOT! This wasn't the greatest for my nose...or the vacuum. She didn't like being brushed. We never managed to teach her how to walk with us and not pull the leash. We never could get her to stop jumping up on people. When we had guests over, I would have to be with her in my room. If I left her for even a few minutes, she would get into my garbage and strew tissues everywhere. She preferred people to dogs.

But Freyja had the best quality, one that far outweighed any of her mischief--love. She was good at showing love. She would look out the front window for you. She knew someone was home before any of us. She didn't hold back. When she was happy, everyone knew it. You felt special every time she bounded up to you, wanting to smell you, to be as close to you as she could.

In 2016, when she was nine, she got sick.
It's been two years since she left us. We miss her. All of us still will catch ourselves looking for her in the window when we drive up. She was special. We miss her.

A lot has changed since then, and not just in the lack of hair everywhere. But that I think will have to wait for another day. Today, I just wanted to remember Freyja and share my continued love and affection for her with you.

I hope you all are having a great summer. I've been loving the heat!

God bless,

God is not a Stick Bug

Last week, my cousins were visiting and one of the things we did was go to the bug zoo (super cool, by the way).

Now, I'm not really a bug person in the sense that I want to have an ant farm or have any insects as pets, but if they're in the garden that's fine. So you'd think a bug zoo would not be a place I'd want to hang out. However, insects are pretty interesting and amazing to look at, especially the big ones (as long as they are in their tanks). It's a pretty small museum, being only two medium sized rooms, yet we ended up staying for over an hour and a half.

Not only did we get to see different types of insects and tarantulas, (which, although scare the pants off me, I actually held!) we also got to learn a ton about them from the guide.

And a lot of what we learned was stuff I never knew, like that tarantulas are incredibly delicate and, due to a fragile exoskeleton, will basically die if dropped.

One of the things that I found both interesting and bizarre was about stick bugs and their way of laying their eggs. The females essentially “flick” their eggs and let them land wherever they land. Not the greatest mother role model, eh?

While it sounds kind of funny, it got me thinking.

Why am I here? I don't mean why I am alive. Why am I here?

Why am I in Canada? Why was I born where I was? Why was I moved? Why am I where I am today?

Sure, my parents had a lot to do with the moves, but I don't really believe in chance.

Why wasn't I born into poverty, unrest, violence?

It's easy for me to say that I was put here for a purpose; that my home has always been in a relatively peaceful, tolerant place because that's what God intended for me and my family. But the truth is that I do believe it. It isn't fair that I have plenty to eat and drink, while others have to fight for their lives every single day. And there are plenty of people who have more than I do. It's not because of anything I did to deserve it, in the same way that those living in third world countries, dangerous surroundings, etc, are not to “blame” for circumstances. Our place of birth has nothing to do with what we did.

So how did we end up where we are? Were we basically “flicked” randomly into the world? A lot of people would probably say yes. Personally, I don't believe it. Having a faith in Jesus has taught me that God's love is too deep to be random. “All the days ordained for me were written in your book before one of them came to be.” (Psalm 139:16). I'm aware that saying I “have a relationship with Christ” might sound wishy washy or stupid. You might have stopped reading at those words. You might think that I'm some narrow-minded, religious nut. You can think whatever you want, but anyone who knows me knows that isn't true.

The point I'm trying to make is that, while I don't know a lot, I feel pretty confident in saying that I wasn't just “flung” randomly into the world, to land wherever and have to fend for myself from the start. Believe what you will, but I don't think God's a stick bug.

Happy April :)

I remember Grandma

I remember folding laundry. 

I remember sitting on your bed while you got ready, and you explained why you couldn't wear  perfume when you volunteered at the hospital. 

I remember you washing my hair, and me covering my eyes with a washcloth to keep the soap out. 

I remember how the jets in your tub both excited and terrified me. 

I remember seeing your dentures in a cup in the bathroom. 

I remember you telling me one morning that I had fallen out of bed without waking up, so you just picked me up and put me back.

I remember eating baked beans with Spencer at your kitchen table. I don't know if I liked them then, but I don't like them now.

I remember how you always boiled carrots. 

I remember finding ants in a package of crackers. 

I remember us always eating salads in wooden bowls. 

I remember how you always had homemade bread, just like Mama. 

I remember baking cookies with you. I remember Grandpa eating them, sometimes in the middle of the night. Did you know he did that? 

I remember the kitchen shaking whenever you turned the garburator on. 

I remember playing store with cans and pretend food. 

I remember you reading "The Three Billy-Goats Gruff", and doing the best troll voice ever. 

I remember when you tried to write down the address displayed on the TV screen when I was at your house and really wanted to write to "TVO Kids". 

I remember you bopping around and dancing, teasing me that time I had a song stuck in my head and kept humming it. 

I remember how funny you sounded when I sang next to you in church. 

I remember sleeping in and using "It's early in Victoria" as an excuse. You just responded with, "You're not in Victoria." 

I remember fishing lint out of the dryer. 

I remember when I wore a thick sweater, toque, and scarf when we left to go home,  and you said I looked like I was going to Finland. 

I remember that time when you visited us in Austria, and we were on the back patio. You asked if I had homework and I told you that Mama was still trying to figure out what the assignment was. 

I remember reading devotions with you and Grandpa every morning. 

I remember the fresh wreaths you sent us every Christmas. 

I remember you telling me about how Papa used to scrunch his toes up to let the ants go by. 

I remember you teaching me how to make a bed properly. I remember it every time I make a bed. 

I remember the Japanese things around your house. 

I remember picking tomatoes from your garden to eat with lunch or supper. 

I remember your laugh; kind of cackle-like. I remember your whole face smiling. Sometimes when Papa laughs, I'm reminded of you. 

I remember those photo albums, old yearbooks, and report cards you kept. 

I remember that cot that I got to sleep on sometimes. I thought it was comfortable.

I remember how it felt whenever you'd kiss my cheek. 

I remember how you smelled; kind of like roses. 

I'm glad my first home was your house while you and Grandpa were still in Japan.
I will always cherish those summers at the cottage, especially getting to use the water pump and swim in that glorious lake (even if I did get a leech stuck on my toe once). I'll also remember the outhouses that I did almost anything to avoid.
I'm grateful for the time I got to spend with you and Grandpa. I'm grateful for our chats on the phone and our cards and letters exchanged in the mail. I'm grateful for you.
I remember you and I'll always remember you. No matter how old I get, you will always be my Grandma Mac. Grandpa will always be my Grandpa Mac. I love you, and I'll see you again.

Love, forever your granddaughter,
Morrigan

Back to School Memories

This post might be a tad dull, but since it is September, and stores with "Back-to-School" sales have me feeling nostalgic, here are some of my memories.


September, 2000-- started Grade 1 at Volkschule in Mittersill, Austria
Homework on one of the first days was to look at a picture and describe what was happening in it. Not too difficult...except that it was all in German. Also, all our writing was done using a fȕllfeder (fountain pen), or pencils on occasion.
Learned to read (actually, not 100% sure when I learned to read in English, but I did learn German reading). My friend and I tried to read signs as we drove past them, but we usually only got through the first few letters. Also met my first Austrian friend :)

Septmeber, 2001-- started Grade 2 (same school)
Honestly, don't remember much about this year, but I think I learned recorder.

September, 2002--Started Grade 3 (same school)
Again, don't remember too much, but I got a lead role in the Christmas play, being a mouse. This was my last year in Austria.

September, 2003--Started Grade 4 in Victoria, BC
Okay, now I remember a lot about this year, since everything was new and so different. Seriously, so different!
First of all, you ate lunch at school. What?? In Austria, from kindergarten until grade 4, school only went until noon. Buying a lunch kit and eating at a desk with the other kids was so weird, and also very cool.
Back packs were different. In Austria, the pack backs were more square and wide, while in North America they are more, well, regular?
The kids and teachers speak English. Oh. My. Goodness. What is this?? I can understand others' conversations without even trying? Amazing!
Ballpoint pens. Awesome.
There were also a lot of questions. What on earth are duo-tangs? There's a store called "Staples"? What is a "play-date"? You actually arrange times to meet and play?
Every time I walk into Staples, I remember that year.

2004-2007--Same school, not too many changes. Had a lot of fun and made a lot of friends. No complaints :)

2008-2011--Homeschooled. Back to school is pretty uneventful when you're homeschooled. I held up a sign that said "Welcome to grade__" and my mum took a picture.

All in all, I really liked back-to-school. It was fun to pick out new supplies, and I liked all my teachers (well, MOST :P ).
To all those returning or entering school for the first time, teachers and students alike, and for all those parents and caregivers, I wish you well. May this year prove to be one of learning, not just in the classroom, but everywhere. Cheers!

P.S. Some advice:

1. Never pack an egg salad sandwich for your lunch. NO ONE will trade with you.
2. If you pretend to care in a class you don't like, you will probably end up learning a lot, and maybe even start to enjoy it.
3. NO ONE gets a perfect school picture (unless you are 8/9 or under), so don't sweat if you don't look like your everyday, gorgeous self.
4. If you have to memorize something, try practicing while rollerblading, skipping rope, or other repetitive activity. It helped me, a kid of seemingly endless energy.

Too Stupid

Writer's block.
Hate.
Words. Sentences. Themes. Ideas.
Nothing.


 I love stories; always have. Whether written or told or conjured up in my own head, I love them. I like funny ones, inspiring ones, weird ones, exciting ones, and all the rest. So when I lose access to stories, it really irritates me. It's like when you just lost a tooth and your tongue keeps feeling where it was. I keep coming back to the same problem: writing. I don't handle writer's block well. This has been the worst case that I have ever had. In fact, I'm not even sure I've had writers block before. Well, I guess I'm making up for it since it has been going on for months. And I know what you're going to say: "Write whatever pops into your head", "just force yourself to write", etc. These are great ideas normally, IF you have general idea of at least the kind of writing you want to do, or you have a real passion. I tried writing whatever popped into my head, and this is what happened:

*The following is actual written work by yours truly*

" Sunday, May 7th, 2017:

Rocks Rocks Rocks. I used to collect rocks. From the beach, mostly. I wonder what happened to all those rocks.
Bees. I haven't been stung by a bee since I was a toddler. It was at the cottage. Brain feels blank. Blank. Blank page, blank blank. The word sounds funny now. Funny. Haha. Heehee, rumble, tumble, glob glob, snort. Monkey. Monkey poo. Those cookies taste good. Nicole likes snicker doodles. If I remember correctly, I don't.
Nickels, dimes, no more pennies. Dot dot dot...Leaves. Fall. Green, yellow, orange, red, brown. Curry. Rice, risotto, pavlova. Don't think I've had that.
Inspiration, inspiration. Got to find some inspiration. Write to Sarah. Yes! That's it! Write to Sarah! What do I write? Questions, lists, hopes, dreams, favourites...Margarine. We never have margarine. Kool-Aid. Try to tye-dye with that. Didn't work well. Too bad, so sad. Dye wool. Fibre. Spin Fibre. Spinning, dizzy, fall, laugh. Moss. Green. Too cool for school. I sort of miss elementary school. Maybe I just miss being that age."


...yeah. Thankfully, it ends there. More like a list if you ask me. A strange, slightly creepy list, but a list all the same. THIS IS WHAT HAPPENS WHEN I AM ALONE.

You know something I really want to talk about? Figuring out life. I don't even mean philosophically speaking. I'm so confused with this whole "being an adult" thing. Yes, I know, "you can always be a kid". But there are limits. Are you really okay with a thirty-year-old not understanding basic things like how to write cheques, pay and actually understand insurance? Are you okay with being pelted by endless questions that don't make much sense? Are you ready to try explaining how to fly alone, pay bills, explain how bills and taxes work? Are you able to explain it in such basic terms that a small child would understand? If you aren't cute and young, annoying childhood behavior becomes all the more infuriating. But guess what? I may not be thirty, but I don't understand a lot of the stuff I just mentioned. I don't know how leases work. I am pretty dense about basic political stuff, I don't have a clue about international travel, and I usually over-tip because I have no idea what the appropriate amount is and I don't want to insult or offend people. There are also loads of other things about the world that I don't even know how to ask the questions.
People don't seem to understand how detailed and broken down I need the steps to be. And SHOW me, don't just write it down. I might be a reader, but I'm not the best and learning complex things that way. You know IKEA instructions and how everyone seems to hate them? I love them. I love assembling furniture. I find it both satisfying and fun to work on while listening to an audiobook or watching a video. I'm getting off-topic. My point is, I need things to be simplified to such an extent that your average ten-year old would understand. I need diagrams, I need examples, I need someone to walk me through each step. I used to ask so many questions, that at one point, I was put on a limit. Why am I like this? I have no idea. Am I extremely naiive? Am I not engaged in society enough? Do I not read the right material? No matter what the reason is, I feel stupid. (I typed "s-t-o-o-p" before realizing my mistake. good job.) I feel too stupid to talk to people. I feel underdeveloped and clueless. There are so many people in the world who have fought for the right to learn, and here I am, unable to process the necessities of every-day life.

Okay, I'm done. For now, at least. Sorry this post was a bit scattered and not really clear. I'm really not depressed, I'm just really frustrated sometimes. Have a great rest of the weekend!

A Month of Favourites: July

Hi all,
 Hope you have been having a superb summer! The other day, I compiled a list of some of my favourite things this past month. Thought I'd share them with you.

Book(s):

"Some Kind of Happiness" by Claire Legrand
*Please note that I am not always the best at summaries, so I will do my best and keep it short*

Finley is sent to spend the summer with her dad's relatives for the first time. She knows why she's being sent--her parents need to work out their "issues". What she doesn't understand is why this is the first time she is even meeting her extended family. Soon she is faced with many questions. Why did her father leave? What kept him away? What really happened all those years ago? As more secrets unfold, and answers remain hidden, Finley and her cousins turn to the world that she created about the forest behind their grandparents' house, "Everwood".

Upon reading the book jacket, I was ready to dismiss this book. I thought it would be another story about how kids have an adventure, solve mysteries, and become heroes. However, it didn't take long for me to be sucked in. Lies, pride, inner struggles, and family relationships lend a hand in creating characters and a plot with depth. While intended for children, I think older readers would also enjoy this whimsical tale.

Movie(s):

"Hector and the Search for Happiness"

Hmm, just realized that this title also includes the word "Happiness". The two are not otherwise related.

Hector, an experienced psychologist with an organized, steady, predictable life, and a wonderful, supportive girlfriend, seems to have it made. But soon he begins to question things. Unable to help his patients find happiness, he decides to take off on a trip to discover how people are able to capture that elusive state of being. In doing so, he encounters many eclectic characters and lifestyles from Asia to Africa, and even Los Angeles.

I really like movies that blend humour with thought-provoking storylines. I found the character of Hector to be endearing as well as inspiring; taking on each experience as it comes. It also helped me gain some insight into different peoples' outlook on life, and how our communities and surroundings can sometimes shape us into who we are. Highly recommend!




"Holes"

Stanley Yelnats the fourth is being sent to Camp Green Lake, a disciplinary centre for juvenile delinquents, after an unfortunate misunderstanding (all thanks to his great great grandfather and the family curse). Camp Green Lake, a very misleading name, is unlike any camp Stanley could have imagined. First of all, there is no lake. Second, the only "activity" is for each "camper" to dig a hole; a hole five feet wide and five feet deep, every day, only coming in when completed. It supposedly builds character, but as the weeks go buy, and countless holes are dug, Stanley and his bunk-mates begin to wonder what the reason is behind digging those holes.

Having read and loved the novel by Louis Sachar, I wasn't sure if the movie would live up to it. But thankfully I was proven wrong. Might be a tad slower than current children/family films, but it is quite entertaining. Wonderful cast of characters with interesting (albeit odd and a bit funny) plot; this makes a great summer film.

Interesting Happenings and Events this Month:

• Had a week of solitude during which my inner hermit really came out. Maybe it's time to look for some vacant caves ;)
• Got stung by a bumblebee. First time that I can remember. Happened while I was harvesting lavender from our garden, I cried out in shock. Hopefully none of my neighbours heard whatever weird sound I made. On the plus side, I found out I'm not allergic.
• Sewed a skirt! Took some patience, but managed to complete it in a couple of days.
• Successfully managed to win a game of "Pandemic" with my board game allies. First time ever!
• Watched a lot of Jeopardy with my parents, and have actually gotten some of the answers, including one final Jeopardy ("What is Swaziland and Switzerland, Alex?")
• Got to see our church's softball team play in the final tournament, and come in second! Go Parkdale!
• Hung out with some chickens 

It's been a pretty great month, with more awesome things planned for this last weekend. 

Enjoy August! 

Love,