Strawberry Picking

Every June we go strawberry picking as a family, a tradition that Rob used to do with his Mom and Oma when he was a boy.  However, this year I went strawberry picking by myself when the kids were in school as I had promised to provide fruit for the Grade 8 Graduation dinner.  June turned into July and we still hadn't gone as a family.  Rob suggested that we go cherry picking instead, reminiscing about the days he used to climb up on his parents' picnic table and pick cherries off the cherry tree till his heart was content.  Then he would guzzle water from the garden hose.  However, my daughter is no cherry picker; it had to be strawberries.  So, after making some inquiries, we found out that strawberry season has not yet passed due to the cold, wet Spring we had this year.

We headed to Brantwood Farms, parked and took our empty quart boxes into the field.  Everyone has their own technique.  I pick slowly and carefully.  My son stays in one row and picks the bright red ones that do not yet spray juice when you squeeze them.  My daughter shifts from row to row looking for the biggest strawberries.  My husband, while he picks the best strawberries, takes longer than my son because he eats half of them.  Our boxes filled to the brim and our fingertips stained red, we headed back to the shack where Rob paid Farmer Tom. 

Back at home, we gave one quart to our elderly neighbour and two quarts to my daughter's friends.  The one quart that remains will be eaten by my husband and son.  You see, my daughter and I don't even like strawberries.  We just enjoy the company we keep in the strawberry fields.  Until next year.


Photo courtesy http://www.greenlivinggirls.com/

My Twelve Year Old

This has been a major year for my son.  When I hear him in the next room, I think I'm listening to a man.  He is starting to grow hair on his legs.  He asks me to buy deodorant at the grocery store.  And he puts on acne cream at bed time.  What happened to my little boy?  His shoe size has surpassed mine.  He is hungry all of the time.  He eats faster than I can put the food on his plate.  And he burps like a construction worker.  What happened to my little boy?  He wants an I Pod (he bought one this year with his own money).  He wants his own e-mail account (he just got one last month).  He wants to go on Facebook (not until he turns 13).  What happened to my little boy?

And yet today was different.  We spent the day in Long Point for my niece's birthday party.  We gathered at the beach where my son, my daughter (almost 8) and their cousins, only 7 and 3, played together nicely.  They frolicked in the water with their boogie boards.  They built sandcastles like it was 5 years ago.  And they buried each other in the sand.  Although my little nephew spent some of the time napping on his towel, sunbaked.  My twelve and a half year old enjoyed it just as much as his much younger sister and cousins. 

We returned to the cottage where the four of them watched "The Magic School Bus", with red faces and sandy feet.  Then we dined on thick juicy porkchops and homemade potato salad cooked to perfection.  The birthday girl blew out the candles and we dug into the carrot cake.  My big boy sat on the couch with his little boy cousin as they devoured their cake. 

Yes, for an afternoon, I had my little boy back.  I can rest easy.  At least until he asks for the car keys!


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Lucy's Schedule

One of my favourite episodes of "I Love Lucy" is called "Lucy's Schedule".  Ricky is complaining about Lucy always taking so long to get ready when they go out anywhere.  Lucy says that she will make sure she is ready on time for the next occasion which happens to be a dinner at Ricky's boss's house.  However, she sets the clocks incorrectly and they arrive so late that the boss and his wife have already eaten.  Lucy is so famished as they converse with the other couple that she gobbles up every last mint in the candy dish.  Ricky gives her a dagger look which is priceless and cracks me up every time I watch the scene.  To make up for their lateness, the Ricardo's invite Ricky's boss, Mr. Littlefield, and his wife over for dinner, hoping to discuss a possible job opportunity running a nightclub.  Ricky puts Lucy on a schedule to impress his boss, thinking that if he can prove he knows how to "manage" his wife, he could manage a nightclub.  However, his plan backfires when Lucy takes the schedule a little too seriously and races the guests through dinner along with her co-conspirators, Ethel and Mrs. Littlefield:  Ricky's boss only gets one sip of his soup before it is removed; he barely touches his main course; the dinner rolls are literally tossed through the air and caught with a baseball glove.  Ricky is furious.  In the end, despite the disastrous dinner, Ricky still lands the job. 

The charm of the "I Love Lucy" show was its simplicity.  The best episodes took place in the New York City apartment and centred on Ricky, Lucy, Fred and Ethel.  In later seasons, the writers brought on various guest actors and had the Ricardo's travel to California and to Europe.  They even had them move to the suburbs at the tail end of the series.  However, they could never duplicate the charm of the apartment and the famous foursome.  Rather than a television show, it was almost like a play.  The emphasis was on the characters rather than on the set. 

I miss the innocence of shows like "I Love Lucy".  Today you can watch 100 channels and yet there's nothing on.  I'd like to go back to 12 channels showing programs with integrity.  It is encouraging to know that even though it's been 60 year since "I Love Lucy" debuted on CBS, people still watch it on DVD.  It hasn't lost its charm.



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Highway Robbery

What a great way to start off the summer by watching Cars 2 at the movie theatre.  I remember when Rob and I went on our first official date.  We watched a Harrison Ford movie at Limeridge Mall in Hamilton and paid only $4.25 a ticket.  A bag of popcorn cost even less than the ticket.  It was an inexpensive evening out.  Now there are four of us and we need to re-mortgage our house just to go to the movies.  First of all, the tickets prices have skyrocketed, especially if you choose to watch a 3D movie.  Secondly, the treat prices are through the roof.  I specifically bought a large purse at Walmart just to smuggle food in.  When the kids were younger, I would bring along drinking boxes and Smart Corn from the Dollar Store.  However, this time for a change I said they could eat movie theatre popcorn, trans fat and all.  I purchased a medium bag for my son and a small bag for my daughter.  The total came to $16.00!  And I hadn't even ordered drinks.  My son asked me for some money to go next door to Dollar Giant and I slipped him two twonies. After several minutes, he returned with two large bottles of Nestea concealed in the large pockets of his shorts and some change.  My husband asked him to hold his popcorn and I protested:  "But he's doing a job for me."  Into the theatre and mission accomplished.  I was so proud of my son.  We enjoyed the feature presentation.  The theatre was packed.  But the next time I go to the movies, I will purchase another large purse.




Picture courtesy http://www.bradfitzpatrick.com/

Pounding the Pavement

     He dipped his artificial leg in the Atlantic Ocean on a frigid April day back in 1980.  Every morning he rose early to run his quota of miles.  At first, no one knew who this figure was running along the side of the highway.  Some Canadians waved; other honked; and some even ran him off the road.  He made his way through the Maritime provinces, not making too much of a mark.  In Quebec, he became discouraged because he did not get a very warm reception.  The Quebec Provincial Police even asked him to stay off of the main highways.  He asked:  "Don't people in Quebec get cancer, too?" 

     Reaching Ontario, his campaign really picked up steam.  Pierre Trudeau shook his hand in Ottawa.  Daryl Sittler hugged him in Toronto.  The Toronto Argonauts let him kick the ball at one of their games.  No longer a lone figure on the side of the road, he was now escorted by the Ontario Provincial Police.  With the goal of raising 24 million dollars for cancer research, he hoped that every Canadian would donate $1.  As he ran through Southern Ontario, it seemed within his reach.  His face sunburnt and wrinkled, he pounded the pavement day after day to conquer the disease that had taken his leg.  The more people told him he couldn't do it, the more determined he was to prove them wrong. 

     And then, as he approached Thunder Bay, he started to get sick.  Each day became more of a struggle.  He had a nagging cough.  In Lake Superior, he took a dip with another cancer survivor, a young boy who had lost his hair.  Shortly after, he was forced to abandon his run and fly back to his native British Columbia.  The Marathon of Hope might have ended, but his cause continued and the Cancer Society continued to raise money.  Diagnosed with lung cancer, he underwent chemotherapy, determined to beat the disease once again.  By now, everybody knew his name.  I'll never forget seeing the Canadian flags at half mast at the end of June 1981.  It's been 30 years since his death and yet he is not forgotten.  The Marathon of Hope is held every year; both young and old participate.  He fought a valiant fight to bring cancer into the limelight.  He ran close to two-thirds of the way across Canada.  He is a Canadian hero.  Thank you, Terry Fox, for your fearless sacrifice.


Photo courtesy har.scdsb.on.ca

Stuffies Galore

My daughter loves stuffies!  And her Daddy cannot say "No".  From the moment she was born, Rob has taken great pleasure in buying our little girl stuffed animals.  It all started with a pink bear that he bought at the hospital gift shop the day after she was born.  Over the next few years, she received small bears, medium bears, big bears and Care Bears.  One February she spotted a giant white bear with pink heart footprints that was bigger than her.  Her Daddy said "No" and she cried and cried and cried.  A week later he brought it home for Valentine's Day and she was thrilled!  She still sleeps with that bear.  Other animals followed:  giraffes, tigers, lions, dogs, cats, fish, bunnies, unicorns, snakes, and many others.  I would say "No", but often her Daddy said "Yes".  One day we took her to African Lion Safari and as we were about to walk out of the gift shop, I noticed a baboon in the bottom of my daughter's stroller.  I was almost a shoplifter thanks to my little girl's addiction.  First her bed and then her bedroom became engulfed with stuffies.  She could play hide and seek in her stuffie pile. And yet she wanted more.  For a long time her favourite stuffie was a giant Dora doll.  One day she was misbehaving and I warned her that I might take away her Dora.  The next thing I know, she had the ugly baboon in her hand:  "How about taking this one instead, Mommy?"  A couple of years ago, she spotted another giant bear to match the Valentine's one.  Now when she sleeps she is the filling of a bear sandwich.  We took her to the zoo and she saw a display of used stuffies.  She begged us for one:  I said "No" and reminded Rob to stay strong.  Fighting back tears, she walked to our van.  Weeks after that visit, she still hadn't forgotten about that stuffie.  On trips to Disney World, she sneaks stuffies into her Daddy's suitcase for the flight there.  The Disney staff then displays them neatly in our bedroom window for passersby to enjoy.  She is getting older, but her obsession continues.  Today, we visited a Dutch bakery and restaurant in Mount Pleasant.  We made the mistake of checking out the gift shop.  With her stuffie radar, she spotted a white bear with a pink shirt.  She batted her eyelashes at Rob and the test began.  It took a few minutes, but we left without the Teddy bear.  Long live stuffies!

Fishing for Followers

My son says that I am obsessed with getting new followers of my blog.  Yesterday at the dentist I mentioned it to the two secretaries during a long conversation.  Afterwards, my son said:  "You spent all that time talking and yet you didn't give them your business card?"  So, back I went to the counter to pass out my new business card which says "Linda Jonasson - Writer" against a backdrop of a beautifully manicured lawn.  Walking out to the parking lot, I mentioned:  "I should make you my literary agent, Thomas."  To which he replied:  "In that case, you owe me for the past two weeks."

I jump up and down every time I see a new square underneath the Followers button.  I mercilessly begged my family members to sign up.  I sent out an e-mail to the Coffee Break ladies at church announcing that I had started a blog.  My husband tells me that I should be concerned more about the number of blog hits I have rather than followers.  So my son checked it out yesterday and discovered I have 529 hits.  Well, 100 of those are probably mine since I often go back to various posts to edit mistakes or add pictures.  However, the majority of the hits were made by other people.  I have 45 viewers in the United States, 15 in Germany and 2 in Denmark.  I wonder who the lonely soul is from Australia?

Last Saturday, I broke down and joined Facebook.  My son helped me set up my home page.  What was the first thing I wanted to advertise on my Facebook page?  It was my blog address, of course.  Without even half trying, I accumulated several "Friends".  My callous response was:  "I don't want friends; I want followers!" 

Right now I have 8 squares underneath the Followers button on my blog home page.  My goal is to get twenty-five followers by the end of the summer.  Will I reach it?  Only time will tell.  Maybe I'll take my son up on his offer.  However, if you see me serving Koolaid to my followers, you'll know I've crossed the line.  Everything in moderation.



Cartoon courtesy 3.bp.blogspot.com