Trekking in Tremblant and Veuve with a View

We just returned from a five day sojourn in Quebec to celebrate my birthday.  Hubby booked a couple of nights in Mont Tremblant and another two in Montreal.

Mont Tremblant is a breathtakingly lovely spot.  The weather cooperated and it could not have been a nicer place to be on a warm, sunny summer's day.  We arrived in time for dinner and what else would we have but......

poutine.  That delectable dish of pure Quebecois decadence....frites slathered with vein clogging gravy and topped off with heart-stopping fresh cheese curds.  Jenny be damned!!

Myron still had room for a Killaloe Sunrise Beavertail, one of those Canadian must haves, this one sprinkled with cinnamon, sugar and a tangy squirt of lemon juice.

Now before you think that all we did was eat (well, ok, so what???), we actually did get some exercise.  When I say exercise, I mean we HIKED!  We started off our day taking the "cabine" (gondola) up Mt. Tremblant and then starting out on an "easy" hike....at least that's what the guide book said.  If that was "easy",  I'd hate to see "moderate" or "strenuous".  It took an hour and a half  to finish the circuit that had  all kinds of terrain...rocky, muddy, and steep!  And it was fun!

This was taken about halfway through the hike (where I was sorely tempted to do a Julie Andrews-esque twirl).  The scenery was spectacular, the air was clean and cool and we felt good about doing something physical.

That evening, we sat on our balcony, overlooking Mt. Tremblant, sharing conversation, some wonderful Quebec foie gras and cheese on a fresh baguette, washing it all down with icy cold Veuve Cliquot.

 

Turning 58 wasn't so bad.  In fact, it was wonderful.

The Agony of Defeat....otherwise known as an afternoon with the Saskatchewan Roughriders

Myron and his sister Alix at the 2007 Grey Cup pre party.

When we got married, the marriage vows included "...and the wife shall cheer for the Saskatchewan Roughriders."  Not really, but it was inferred.  As was "...and the husband shall learn to like ballet".  I was pregnant with Our Girl when we attended the 1989 Grey Cup when they won the Cup (which accounts for her love of the team) and a large contingent of Myron's family descended on Toronto to attend the Rider's 2007 Grey Cup win.

It has not always been an easy road, following the Green Boys.  After 23 years of marriage, I think I'm understanding the rules of the game pretty well.  There was never any question, that as a Toronto born girl, I would NOT be cheering for the Argos.  God forbid.  When you are married to Myron W (the "W" stands for "With green blood running through his veins"), you cheer for the Riders.  Period.  End of story.

Yesterday, we endured what seemed like Hell in Hamilton.  Our Green Boys were meeting up with the hungry Tiger Cats.  Or should I say, the Green Boys were served on a platter for the TiCats??  Yoy.  Like a bullfight, it was a gory sight to behold.  The problem was that the Riders never showed up!   Hamilton annihilated Saskatchewan and as energized as the Hamilton fans were, we poor melonheads were wilting in the hot July sun.  

I have watched my husband support his team through thick and thin and his devotion to his team is unwavering.  He rants and raves at the players, at the coaches and at the referees.  He wears his jersey while sitting in our living room watching his "guys" or his "bums" depending on what the previous game results were.  The man I married has a heart that is bigger than Saskatchewan itself and he will always be a Prairie boy.  That heart is also made of mush.  I've seen him mist up at what he calls "beautiful plays" and yell Ukrainian obscenities at the screen when they mess up.  The latter happens more frequently.

His idols were Ron Lancaster (#23) and George Reid (#34).  Those two numbers are always included in our lotto picks and when he plays roulette in Vegas.   His favourite colour is green.  He cries when he hears the Rider's anthem.   I love him for all these things. 

I have a birthday coming up.  The past year I have been calling myself "Heinz 57", but with the addition of another year, I will have to give up that moniker.  My hubby told me a couple of weeks ago that he wanted to take me to Mt. Tremblant for my birthday weekend...nice!!!  It wasn't until later that I learned that his Riders are playing in Montreal on Sunday night and that we will be going to see them play the Alouettes!!    These two groupies will be on hand.  

Would a win for my birthday be too much to ask??

Our new friend Jenny

Hubby and I have a new best friend (OK, I just had to retype "friend" TWICE...first time it showed up as "fiend" and the second time, "fried"...honest...this will very soon become ironic).

Her name is Jenny Craig.  She's the kind of friend you need to keep around because she does things for you.  I'm afraid we might eventually kick her to the curb, but for now, she serves a purpose.  How callous.

A few months ago,  my husband looked at our naked selves in the bathroom mirror  and said "we look like we should be dancing in a witches' coven"....if that doesn't give you a visual, I don't know what will.  Now before you say "how DARE he??", he said it with laughter in his voice and love in his heart.  And he was right.  Damn him.

And so, like Kirstie, Valerie, Sara and Carrie say "Have you called Jenny yet"?  Yeah, yeah, I'm calling already.  But because my wonderful husband said he'd join me on this journey with our new best friend, we both hauled our extra poundage over to Jenny's house.

We were introduced to Nafisa, (apparently Jenny was too busy to meet us).  Nafisa is such a lovely young woman of Somalian descent.  Her complexion is like chocolate.  Hmmmm, chocolate.......

We went through the usual humiliation of having to stand on their scale (which is obviously broken), and be measured up for size.  The general consensus was that we'd been enjoying life a little too much and needed to solidify our new friendship with Jenny tout de suite!  Not a lot...about 15 pounds for me and about 20 for my warlock.  Nafisa assured us that we'd have no trouble embracing this new friendship and that Jenny would be with us all the way.

Armed with Jenny's meals and a fever to shed those pounds, we headed home to start our journey.

When I prepared the first meal and handed it to my husband, he looked at it and said "this is sad".  I was all bubbly and "oh, but with the salad and extra veggies, it's a lot of food!"  He just looked at me like I had sprouted another nose.  OK, to be fair, there's not a lot of food, but after you drink 8 gallons of water, you really aren't that hungry, are you?  I'm allowed 1200 calories a day and he's allowed 1500.  There must be some kind of gender bias discrimination law against this.

Exercise is a big part of our day.  My husband works out harder than I do, and he plays some tennis and in the summer, golfs when he can.  I like to ride my stationary bike.  Well, not "like" to ride it, but at least I can get lost watching The Food Network (I know, funny eh?) and my usual weekly total is about 50 - 65 miles.  I'm at it for about 50 minutes a day, 5 days a week and if I ever get where I'm going, I'll let you know.  We also walk to my mother's and back, a 5 km trek from our house.

I'm not going to say we haven't cheated on on our buddy Jenny from time to time...dinners out, dinners in...life does go on and we do have other friends.  But come Wednesday morning, the only friend we want to see is Jenny.  Nafisa weighs us, praises our triumphs and gently accepts our defeats.  He's down 15 (men lose it faster than women) and I'm down 13.8 (and the .8 matters!!).  Our clothes fit better, our energy level is up and we live for those moments when people notice.

We've realized just how little one needs to eat to be satisfied.  Could we eat more after a Jenny meal?  Of course.  But we don't and it's paying off.  Some of the food is really good, some of it mediocre and some of it, bleh.  Kind of like my cooking.  And now go back to the first paragraph and you will see that "fiend" and "fried" are obviously some kind of Freudian slip.

And the next time my husband says that we look like we belong in a witches' coven, I'll hit him with my broom.  And then we'll get on it and head on back to Jenny's.

Boobies

I just returned from my annual mammogram. Temporary ouch for long lasting assurance that my boobies are healthy.

Our Ladies' League at our church raised money a few years ago for the purchase of a mammography machine in Ukraine. Women all over the world should have access to this service, but sadly, this is not the case.

Which leads me to our health care system. No matter how we bitch and complain about the wait times and the lack of family physicians, we still have access to some of the best health care in the world. When my mother had a suspected stroke a few months back, the attention she received was beyond compare. Within minutes of entering the emergency ward, she had a CT Scan and was seen by a neurologist. Just like that.

My father passed away almost 5 years ago from prostate cancer. The care he received was remarkable...from his initial diagnosis (although he dumped his first urologist for his lack of a soul!!) to Dad's chemotherapy treatments at Princess Margaret to the in-home palliative care he received from The Toronto Grace Hospital.

Think for a moment what it would be like to be living in a Third World country with no access to any kind of decent medical care...now kiss the ground beneath you.

I am all for a two-tiered system. If I can afford to pay for tests, x-rays, and doctor visits (which would probably make me think twice before going for something trivial), then perhaps the money saved could be spent on hiring more doctors, nurses, technicians, etc. and all of that would help to ease wait times for others less fortunate than my family.

My great, great uncle was Tommy Douglas, the father of socialized medicine in Canada. Thanks Uncle Tommy for having the vision. Now it's up to us to help sustain the medical system by not abusing it....but by using it wisely.

Bonne chance ma chérie!

Our Girl is in Perpignan, in the south of France on a month-long journalism study course. When she first told us of this project last year, she asked us "should I apply?'" No brainer for her Dad and me. Anything to do with travel and education is an opportunity not to be missed. Granted, we are financially in a position to offer these "perks" to Our Girl, but to her credit, she has contributed to this with her own hard-earned dollars. Our Girl is definitely a privileged child, who, as her godmother affectionately says, "has never had to turn right on an airplane".

Her sojourn in France will, I think, be an overall, life-changing experience. She is seeing a different way of life, living amongst very different people with different mindsets. The Perpignan Project is a group of 15 students from North America, including four Canadians. Their website is www.inperpignan.net if you are interested in reading/seeing what they are doing.

I wrote, a long time ago, about letting go. I am still struggling with that. We are incredibly close and I love that about our relationship. There is nothing that we don't share...well, almost nothing. I love to see her Facebook posts (I admit to being a huge "creeper"), and we talk daily on Skype or via Facebook chat. I am living vicariously through her. She is doing all the things I could have only dreamt about when I was her age. Not going to university meant I was in the work force from the time I was 17. I did travel a lot, but not on the kind of adventure that she is on now. Our Girl is meeting people from different walks of life and with the advent of social media, some of those friendships will endure. She will gain a new perspective on how others live in a foreign country. This experience will be invaluable to her.

What I love most about our relationship is that I "really, really like her." She is fun to be around, has a wicked sense of humour and a laugh that is raw and infectious. And she's silly.

Her aim is to, someday, be a journalist. She has always been a good writer and she is continuing to sharpen those skills every day. A course like The Perpignan Project is a vital part of that growth. She will succeed at whatever she does.

I figure I still have one more year to let go of her, as she has one more year of university, and after that, possibly graduate school. I am easing up but it's hard to just go cold turkey. My greatest hope is that, from time to time, she will want to tug on my apron strings. And that will be the greatest gift of all.

Bonne chance ma cherie!

"Ivy"

Isn't this just the cutest?? This pooch (I call her "Ivy") is around the corner from us. Everytime I drive past her, I have to smile. Thank goodness for neighbours with some whimsy in their soul. Hope it makes you smile!

Condos, Creeps, Civility and Cleansing

We bought a condo. The search has actually been going on for about two years and last fall, we found "the one". 2836 square feet of incredible space with a magnificent view of the lake and downtown Toronto. It's directly on Lake Ontario and our walks there last summer convinced us that it was the perfect spot for us.

That's the condo part.

We aren't quite ready to live there, so it's been rented for a year. At first, the tenant seemed pleasant and we gifted him with a bottle of champagne and a note welcoming him to his "new home". He pays his rent (albeit a little late sometimes) and seemed like a good choice. Wow. Was I wrong on that count. Our tenant decided that having a DJ in the unit was a smart thing to do and the party that ensued lasted until 6 am. Numerous resident's complaints and security admonissions later, Mr. TFH* decided to ignore his neighbours and be damned!! Up until this point, all of our texts back and forth have been for rent issues and some minor repairs to the unit. I sent him a polite text saying that I had heard about his "all nighter" and perhaps we should speak in person. WELL. I won't bore you with all the nasty details, but when he did call me, the conversation very quickly deteriorated to his yelling into the telephone, "All of the God-damned residents here are just jealous because I get sex everyday".......okaaaaay. Conversation ended immediately. I refuse to have any contact with this idiot, other than to cash his rent cheque and to give him ample notice that his lease will not be renewed. Mr. TFH will not be living in our beautiful condo after Feb. 1st.

It seems that tenants have all the rights and landlords have none. Bad judgment call on my part. I will own up to that. But how do you know? His previous landlord sang his praises!

That's the creeps part.

I have previously written about civility and how this part of our society is melting away. We live in this world together. When did it become alright for an individual to blatantly break the rules with no apparent consequences? If you choose to live in a community such as a condominium, you need to respect the privacy and liberties of those around you. Because you pay rent does not give you the right to abuse other's enjoyment of their homes. What amazes me is the lack of respect for others in general. We live in a time of "it's all about me and I don't care what you think". Some people just need a smack upside the head. Honestly.

That's the civility part.

Because of all of this, we have decided, to take over the condo as of February 1st and to start the renovation process to make it our next home. It's an exciting time for us...planning, shopping, tossing around ideas. Our Girl isn't too happy about us leaving our current home, where we've lived for 10 years, but we've assured her that home is where we are, not where we live. Besides, I've heard her friends ask if they could do "pre-drinks" at our new place next year!

Before we start any big renovations, I've asked our priest to come and bless the condo. I want to rid it of any unwanted Karma from Mr. TFH.

That's the cleansing part.

Oh, Mr. TFH....Mr. Tenant From Hell