4-day work weeks are the way to go...
I had a pretty decent weekend. On Saturday my friend Sarah got me a ticket to see the closing night of Urinetown. It was fun. I think if it was a Mirvish-esque production I'd look on it more harshly as there were a few klunky moments, but as a CanStage production it was enjoyable to see a musical that didn't take itself too seriously. When the narrator utters a line like "Everything in its time, Little Sally. You're too young to understand it now, but nothing can kill a show like too much exposition" you know it's at least going to be an entertaining ride.
Over the weekend, I was reacquainting myself with Railroad Tycoon II. It was a simple pleasure. Playing with trains is fun. However, when even mightygodking comments on how long you've been at your computer playing a game, it's time to get outside.
Sunday I headed out to see my parents, who just came back from a trip out to Victoria visiting family, in anticipation for the neighbourhood Labour Day tradition, which I'll slip into a cut considering I'm about to The neighbourhood in Ajax where I grew up was built in the late 60s, and it was filled almost completely with new families. In some ways my childhood bordered on idyllic, as almost all of the kids were near my age and within a six-house walk, so I was rarely short on playmates. Having 15+ playing Hide & Seek or British Bulldog with you is a blast, and I hope when I have a family of my own one day I can find a similar new neighbourhood. Anyway... Somewhere around '85 a bunch of the families started getting together on Labour Day.
In the morning we'd play softball, which was Parents vs. Kids. We kids took it very seriously, unlike our parents who were literally just finishing their morning coffee as they took their first at-bats. It took 5 years for the kids to actually win a game, after which the parents and kids played on mixed teams. (not because our parents were bitter, but because as teens it was a herculean effot to wake up before the crack of noon) We found out years later that as everyone grew older our parents cheated to keep their winning streak alive. Somehow that just makes the memories even more fun. The softball game was eventually retired after a game where I sent a pop-fly up into centre and Mrs. MacInnis broke her arm trying to field it. I still feel bad that I didn't notice what had happened until almost reaching third.
The afternoon started with a round of mini-putt, which is now our main staple for Labour Day as everyone can at least do it, if not terribly well. The only organization to it was that you couldn't play on a foursome with another family member, and there were a couple of people who weren't exactly trustworthy about their scores if someone wasn't paying attention to them. What the afternoons then were like compared to now are such a difference in experience. When I was a kid there was a lot of competition, prizes, and bragging rights. I remember severe round of pouting once as a kid because I couldn't sink the ball on the 18th hole. (for those who aren't mini-putt aficionados, it's often designed to be an almost idiot-proof hole so that you finish on a good note) I'm pretty sure there were tears involved, I was so frustrated, and I couldn't have been younger than twelve. As I started to write this paragraph, I realized that this year I had a disastrous 18th hole, and while disheartening I got through it with merely a bit of lip biting. (and I kept the scorecard pencil, muahahaha!)
Anyway... with all the kids now grown and on to their own lives, to be at Labour Day now is a catching-up social event. Us kids only see each other once a year now, unlike once a day after supper, so we end up chattering the entire day about each other's lives so that we're satisfied as to not be completely disconnected from each other. The evening potluck this year was crammed with travels, work, marriages, cars, cooking tips, childrearing issues. There is no longer a kids table, the conversations easily slipped into no matter where you sat down. However, the oldest of us kids already has a toddler of her own, so in a few years the kids table may reappear before the neighbourhood is finally recycled to raise the next generation of families.
Okay, I'm waxing on a bit much now, and I think this is for my own benefit rather than yours. There are lots of details I've left out, including one which is easily obtained if you ever meet my parents or someone from the neighbourhood and ask them for an embarrassing Labour Day story about the kids (and there's really only one answer). I've thought about taking a friend with me to share the day, but it'd probably just seem to them like a low-key party. For me, connecting with everyone year after year is something special, and something I just realized I'm really going to miss when it's over. All the memories connected with it is like my own little dysfunctional Rockwell. I doubt there's ever going to be a better way for me to end my summer.
Okay, time to leave work now. The week is almost half over already. Sweet.
Over the weekend, I was reacquainting myself with Railroad Tycoon II. It was a simple pleasure. Playing with trains is fun. However, when even mightygodking comments on how long you've been at your computer playing a game, it's time to get outside.
Sunday I headed out to see my parents, who just came back from a trip out to Victoria visiting family, in anticipation for the neighbourhood Labour Day tradition, which I'll slip into a cut considering I'm about to The neighbourhood in Ajax where I grew up was built in the late 60s, and it was filled almost completely with new families. In some ways my childhood bordered on idyllic, as almost all of the kids were near my age and within a six-house walk, so I was rarely short on playmates. Having 15+ playing Hide & Seek or British Bulldog with you is a blast, and I hope when I have a family of my own one day I can find a similar new neighbourhood. Anyway... Somewhere around '85 a bunch of the families started getting together on Labour Day.
In the morning we'd play softball, which was Parents vs. Kids. We kids took it very seriously, unlike our parents who were literally just finishing their morning coffee as they took their first at-bats. It took 5 years for the kids to actually win a game, after which the parents and kids played on mixed teams. (not because our parents were bitter, but because as teens it was a herculean effot to wake up before the crack of noon) We found out years later that as everyone grew older our parents cheated to keep their winning streak alive. Somehow that just makes the memories even more fun. The softball game was eventually retired after a game where I sent a pop-fly up into centre and Mrs. MacInnis broke her arm trying to field it. I still feel bad that I didn't notice what had happened until almost reaching third.
The afternoon started with a round of mini-putt, which is now our main staple for Labour Day as everyone can at least do it, if not terribly well. The only organization to it was that you couldn't play on a foursome with another family member, and there were a couple of people who weren't exactly trustworthy about their scores if someone wasn't paying attention to them. What the afternoons then were like compared to now are such a difference in experience. When I was a kid there was a lot of competition, prizes, and bragging rights. I remember severe round of pouting once as a kid because I couldn't sink the ball on the 18th hole. (for those who aren't mini-putt aficionados, it's often designed to be an almost idiot-proof hole so that you finish on a good note) I'm pretty sure there were tears involved, I was so frustrated, and I couldn't have been younger than twelve. As I started to write this paragraph, I realized that this year I had a disastrous 18th hole, and while disheartening I got through it with merely a bit of lip biting. (and I kept the scorecard pencil, muahahaha!)
Anyway... with all the kids now grown and on to their own lives, to be at Labour Day now is a catching-up social event. Us kids only see each other once a year now, unlike once a day after supper, so we end up chattering the entire day about each other's lives so that we're satisfied as to not be completely disconnected from each other. The evening potluck this year was crammed with travels, work, marriages, cars, cooking tips, childrearing issues. There is no longer a kids table, the conversations easily slipped into no matter where you sat down. However, the oldest of us kids already has a toddler of her own, so in a few years the kids table may reappear before the neighbourhood is finally recycled to raise the next generation of families.
Okay, I'm waxing on a bit much now, and I think this is for my own benefit rather than yours. There are lots of details I've left out, including one which is easily obtained if you ever meet my parents or someone from the neighbourhood and ask them for an embarrassing Labour Day story about the kids (and there's really only one answer). I've thought about taking a friend with me to share the day, but it'd probably just seem to them like a low-key party. For me, connecting with everyone year after year is something special, and something I just realized I'm really going to miss when it's over. All the memories connected with it is like my own little dysfunctional Rockwell. I doubt there's ever going to be a better way for me to end my summer.
Okay, time to leave work now. The week is almost half over already. Sweet.