travelling time

Next week we hope to take the new vehicle (new to us) out for a jaunt. There is apparently an organ museum in Michigan that Martin found when wandering the internet last winter. I got information and we are going to drive out there for Wednesday. There are all types of organs - pump organs, theatre organs ...


and I am sure the organ that was in "The Ghost and Mr. Chicken"
http://youtu.be/-XdqRbIfNgE

(which had blood stains on the keys)
(which couldn't be removed)
(even with Bon Ami)
http://youtu.be/CNZMmzMdXFg

(scariest movie ever if you are in like grade 4 and have an active imagination) (way too many brackets I see) (but who is going to stop me) (I go mad with the ( and the ) keys (((())))   () () (hah)



...back to the story...

so we will see how that goes. Apparently you are allowed to try them out.
Maybe I will report back with pictures. I am going to try to take video.
Martin should be kept busy for hours playing with those organs.
I will bring a book.

 the Conn organ that Martin got in April

welcome to vaughan

A number of years ago I was travelling with a friend to a Saturday women's leadership conference in Toronto. Both of us have some issues when if comes to driving to an unknown location. It was decided that she was to drive and I was to navigate.

Maps were consulted, options looked at and a route prepared. We both liked the idea of going up especially early because we wanted to leave time to get lost and still not be late. 

But we (meaning me - I was the navigator after all) somehow got sidetracked.
Driving along and looking for our next exit we came across a sign that told us that we were not where we were supposed to be.
This wasn't the exact sign but it had said the same thing.

Welcome to Vaughan

Now when you are heading north you have to concede that you have gone too far when you see a sign welcoming you into the next city passed the one that you were aiming for.

We got off of the highway and actually got there rather quickly after that. The route we drove kept us on a highway and around a lot of suburban traffic lights. But that had lots to do with luck and hardly anything to do with my navigational skills.

So, this friend and I have a phrase that will instantly tell one how the other is feeling when she uses the phrase "Welcome to Vaughan"

Now, whenever I am facing the unknown and I think I might have lost my way.
I say to myself "Welcome to Vaughan"

speaking of water

I should have put this entry next to the sod one a couple back.

A number of years ago my father-in-law, who lived just down the road from us, had a garden at our place. He would come over from time to time to weed or water.

On what was promising to be a hot summer day we had been without water service since early morning. Tough when you are trying to do laundry or do the dishes or take a shower. I guessed that they were working on a water main somewhere down the road.

So when my father-in-law showed up to water the garden I was surprised that the water had been turned back on. Since he lived just down the road from us I assumed that his water had been turned off as well and wouldn't have thought that he would come over to water the garden when there was no water.
 

So I asked him, "How was your water this morning?"
He looked at me puzzledly, "My water?"
"Yes, your water, how was it this morning?"
"You want to know about my water?"
"Yeah, Dad, how was your water this morning?"

There is a look on his face that shows he is uncomfortable with what he is about to reveal but I can tell he feels he is obligated to reply to my question.
"Well, I peed this morning and everything was fine, why do you ask?"

It was then that I realised that he was thinking of an entirely different type of water and was trying to figure out why I was so insistent about knowing his personal plumbing habits.

We've had a few laughs about that one.
So when someone who knows the story asks me a question I might not want to answer I sometimes reply with "So how's your water?"

say what?

This wonderful shot was taken on Laura's 24th birthday.
Yes, the candles say 25 - hence the stunned look on my face.
Standing in the kitchen trying to figure out how old she was I came to 25.
I came out onto the deck singing Happy Birthday and Laura looked up at me and said "I'm only 24"
I ran into the house and changed the candles and came out again trying to pretend it didn't happen but here is the proof - one of my kids was quick with the camera and the fact that I can't add is indisputable.

home with a heart

http://www.thebanner.org/news/article/?id=3529

One of my passions is teaching a program called Home with a Heart. There is an article written about it in the Banner (our church magazine) It is in the online section now and will go into the actual magazine as space allows.

green side up

After a long time we finally have a grassed backyard.
The sod came on Tuesday and since I knew Andrew couldn't help Martin lay it after he got home from work ( he was playing frisbee ) I thought I would get started. We had ordered 300 rolls and think I did over 100 of them all by my lonesome. It was hard work but I enjoyed it.
Martin came home and then Henry and the two of them got the rest done at a pace so much faster than mine.

Now to just water the heck out of it. We will see our waterbill increase but it is worth it to keep the grass alive during this dry hot spell.

The fall that Laura had moved out we had a decidedly lower water bill. The city had been working on the waterlines out front for over a month and hooked everyone up individually bypassing the main water lines and the water metres.
So our water bill showed no water used. Not a drop.
This was so disconcerting to the water company that they called us and asked us if there was a problem. Were we getting any water?
The problem was that they got Karen on the phone.
"Are you having problems with your water? Our records show that you aren't using any water at all"
Karen's explanation to the woman was this.
"Well Laura just moved out and she always takes a lot of showers."
Enough said.

a long time ago

Here is a picture of my brother and my mother and me standing in front of a small outbuilding on the family farm in Smilde Holland. We were there for my grandparents 50th anniversary.

And here we are in 2002 at a family reunion standing in front of the same building. I wish we had tried to recreate the picture in regards to positioning ourselves but I am just happy we have it.

I was so happy that we had the chance to return to the homeland of my father.
What struck me as very odd was the feeling that I was going home when travelling there. That feeling doesn't come over me too often.
Being extremely non-adventerous I don't usually relish travelling. I suppose some of it is the non-familiar language and some of the customs that make me feel out of place. But there was something strangely familiar and comfortable about Holland.


I have only two memories from the first time that I was in Holland.

The first one was of drinking beer on a patio. Just a sip but I remember the adults paying attention to the look on my face.

The second memory proved to be faulty.
First I will tell you what my memory was and then I will tell you how it really happened. As I recall, I was playing with some cousins (whom I did not know very well) in a barn and my cousin Mark had got his head stuck in the bars that hold the cows still for milking. This created a panic in Mark and the rest of us. We called for the grown-ups who arrived on the scene. They deemed Mark to be in quite a pickle and steadfastly stuck and I assumed he would have to remain there for the rest of his life. The tragedy of it all. The grown-ups were at a loss of how to solve this problem when my dad came striding in. I recall that he grabbed both sides of the bars and with brute strength wrenched open the bars so Mark could pull his head out. There were cheers and sighs of relief. And what I knew was that my dad was the biggest and strongest dad in the world and there was no one better.
What really happened is that Mark got his head stuck in some bars and the grown-ups told him to twist his head the same way to pull out as he has twisted it when his head went in. It might not have even been my father who came up with this brilliant idea. And that is the way that it happened.

Funny thing about memories, eh?