Whitby Weekend

So this past weekend we're at the Ontario Lacrosse provincials in Whitby for number one son (yes, I know it's Wednesday already...so the summer goes). It's a big deal in the Ontario lacrosse world.

We wade through crowds and cheer ourselves hoarse. We smell smells that have no place outside a locker room but, well, that's what you get when it's hot and kids in heavy protective gear, which has to be used over and over again, run around and run around and run around more in a confined space.

At each arena we thread our way through the parking lot to the door. I'm seeing all sorts of stickers on cars that flash support for this home team or that home team. There are numerous pictures of lacrosse sticks: singly, two of them crossed, oriented horizontally and oriented vertically. I read slogans urging me to hug a ref. I am informed that it takes balls to play lacrosse.

When we pull up at, like, the fourth different arena of the weekend, the car beside me is sporting this sticker:


No kidding. We had a good laugh.

Driving around with that on your bumper? I think that takes balls.

[And the home team? Made it all the way to the semi finals but was stopped there. Not bad! Hawks rock!]

Book Week Website

The new website for this year's Children's Book Week is up!

It's simply www.bookweek.ca and it's a great resource of everything you want to know about it.

And since I wrote this year's TD Grade One Giveaway book, rumour has it that I might be doing a bit of travelling too.

I'll spill when there's something to spill!

Struggling with Summer

Judging by the gaps in my posts here, it's probably obvious that I'm struggling with the summer thing. I love summer, but it's a challenge to fit in my writing work with the kids home.
There are kids swimming lessons,
kids sports practices
and games
and tournaments,
play dates,
and relatives that come for a visit.

This region of the province, Muskoka, is considered vacation land or cottage country, so the population doubles in the summer. They're all here to relax! The whole atmosphere becomes vacation!
party!
chill!
this event,
that festival,
the must-attend annual celebration,
the new cool location.

Not that I pay attention to all of that. But it's there.

The kids...the things to do...it's all good; I just have to figure out how I fit my own stuff into it.

And I'd better figure it out. I've got another book project to complete.


(Speaking of distractions, in the midst of typing this, I just saw a bear in my backyard!)

Slug Sightings

I saw this slug today. Definitely not unusual considering all the rain we've had. But apparently this year the slugs are getting so confident, so bold and so sure of themselves they're...

... hitching rides to your garden. Sheesh!

(No kidding, this slug was on somebody's car in a parking lot when I saw it. I didn't make this up.)

Me and My Manure

I'm in Home Depot today wandering down an aisle when an orange-aproned older gentleman says, "Can I help you, ma'am?"

I am tempted to say no thanks, because I'm not in a hurry (and I hate being called ma'am--I don't think I'm that old yet), but I get the sense he'd rather not be putting together whatever it is he's been wrestling with so I say, "Okay. I'm looking for some cow manure."

He says, "Well, for that you should get yourself a cow."

Ha. ha. Not laughing. That can't be the first time he's said that, right?

"Yeah, I know," I reply. "But that's, um...not happening."

So I follow him down the aisle where I get to choose between the cow variety and the sheep variety. It's even advertised as "no odour"! Woo hoo. There's the premium brand and the discount brand. Since I am only trying to help along my up-until-now pitiful patch of rhubarb (Who the H can't grow rhubarb!? Me apparently.) I don't really want to make this an overly complicated exercise. I point to the cow stuff that's on sale and say, "Thanks, I guess I'll take this then."

He offers to carry it to the cash for me. Gosh, that was nice. After my "Thank you, have a great day," me and my manure went home.

Went on Road Trip...went to jail!

This past weekend saw me far from home. I went on a six-hour road trip for my son's lacrosse tournament. I did not grow up with rep sports of any kind, so having kids who by times travel for their sport is a new thing for me. Costs aside, I've decided to embrace the madness.

I mean, if I'm going to have to go to towns or cities within the province that I'd not necessarily actually choose to visit, I figure why not make the most of my time there? There's gotta be at least one interesting thing in most of them, right? This weekend it was Cornwall, Ontario.

So we hopped in the car and started on our odyssey. What a cool drive. We started in our granite outcroppings and boggy forests and lakes, drove through rolling forested hills, and on to the Ottawa valley with its flat farmlands. Fascinating to see the land change. And then we were there (only two major bicker sessions between the kids, yay!).

Check out this bomber out front of the place we stayed at! That's the St. Lawrence River in the background. For scale, a nine-year-old is about as tall as those bushes.

Too bad the bomber's also a pigeon perch.

Spent Saturday in an arena. But before the gold medal game on Sunday we had some free time. Yay! I went to jail. Here I am behind bars.

That cell was rather cramped. Lucky I was only visiting. The Cornwall jail, which was in operation from 1834 until 2002, is now a museum. It was quite an eye opener for us all. I'm not sure which we all found most fascinating, the graffiti all over or the replica gallows from the days they hanged offenders in the courtyard. Or maybe it was the story of the bodies still unaccounted for that were buried in that courtyard.

Right after that it was off to lacrosse for the final game. After the weekend's tie, win, win, win, the Hawks lost this final game by two. They did themselves proud and took home the tournament silver medal. Congratulations!

Then it was the six-hour drive home. We pushed through pretty quickly, because it was Sunday and the kids have this last week in school. Nor was I looking forward to driving during peak deer/moose roaming hours. We did stop for a break at my fave picnic spot on Golden Lake where my daughter found this dragonfly in the water.

Jumped back in the car and finished the journey. Only one deer sighting, and it decided not to play chicken with me. Phew!

A name, a name...what's with my name?

Lately a bunch of things have come up for me, all related to names. For one, I’ve been toying with a tagline for my website based on my name. More on that in yesterday's post.

This week I had a fun Facebook wall comment thing going with Pamela Ross and Carolyn Double Owen about being called names as kids. We’re all claiming to be in contention for the most easily abused last name. Pamela’s was Morak aka moron. Carolyn’s was Double aka double trouble. Of course I am Flatt (yep, pancake, tire, you name it).

I can still vividly recall my worst name related incident. It was grade 7, and a certain male whose name I remember to this day, but who shall remain nameless here, stood up in geography class just after the teacher stepped out into the hall. He proclaimed to the entire class his opinion that I, Flatt, was the Great Plains and another unfortunately named girl with the last name Biggs was the Rocky Mountains. Sadly our chests did indeed mirror our last names. I was mortified.

Uh, yeah. I think I win. Sorry, gals.

But there are other benefits to an unusual name, and time generally takes care of the frontal development issues. As I said yesterday, at least it's easy-ish to find you on the internet if you have an odd name.

I had a lovely exchange this past week with a woman doing family genealogy. Turns out our families are indeed related. The great-great grandfathers were brothers. And this winter another distant relative sent me a lovely poem written by her grandfather in memory of my great-grandfather.

Then there are the famous Flatts you might actually have heard of. Rascal Flatts just named their band that because it was memorable according to this article or this one. And there's Rachel Flatt the US figure skater. My figure skating daughters like to imagine they might just be even a tiny little wee bit related to her.

So here's to all of you out there with names that people have toyed with, mutilated, and otherwise abused. Maybe we're memorable.