Being Canadian
As you scroll down you can see some pics from our weekend in Canada. I only had a few minutes to put those up, so I really didn't really write anything.
Canada has a special place in my family. We are split breeds, us 5 kids. My mom was born and lived in Canada until she was 12. My father's parents were born and raised in Ireland. Because it's "cool" to be Irish and because of the cultural stereotypes that go along with the Irish, we tend to refer to ourselves as Irish more than Canadian. I blame Bryan Adams personally.
That being said... none of us has ever even been to Ireland. Canada we visit regularly.
Growing up, we would make the trek to my aunt's house a few times a year. We would sleep on her floor, her couch, the spare room, her sons' room. We would pile in the woody wagon (a wonderful snot green color with matching vinyl interior) and fight over who had to sit in the middle. In fact, back then we would lay down in the "way back" with blankets and pillows and read books, play Mad Libs, do Fun Pads, License plate game, Sign game. We even sang corny songs. Seat belts were for race cars, not a 70s Chevy Wagon.
My mom would wake us up at like 6 in the morning, the car would be packed and off we'd go. We would eat our sandwhiches at a rest stop in Vermont.
I remember realizing in my early 20's how short the trip actually was and immediately thought maybe my mom drove real slow or something. It just seemed like an 8 hour trip. It's really 5. And, my mother later admitted to being something of a drag racer as a teen in the 50s. How cool is that?
We never really stayed for more than a few nights. We would do the Sugar Eat. That's basically going to a sugar shack/dining hall, eating crazy amounts of food that have maple syrup poured all over it. Then of course the sugar on snow. We would play cards until the wee hours of the morning. I would play with cousins that barely spoke English. We always, always had a great time.
As I got older, the Canada Road Trip was de riguer. Pile in a Ford Escort with a few 30 packs, $50 and 4 friends, drive to Canada, drink yourself straight and come home. I can't go into details here for legal reasons. ;0)
So, Canada rocks. It always has. It is where my family is. It's where my mother was born, where as children we would hear her speak her native language. And we would crack up at her "wha wha wha's" (insert Charlie Brown parent sounds here)... we mostly never learned French. Mostly.
So Celine Dion aside, I'm Canadian folks. My name is Jenn and I'm half Canadian. There. I've reclaimed the other 50% of my ancestry.
Now, I'll be gettin' me my pint and then off ta bed with ya!
Bon soir.
Canada has a special place in my family. We are split breeds, us 5 kids. My mom was born and lived in Canada until she was 12. My father's parents were born and raised in Ireland. Because it's "cool" to be Irish and because of the cultural stereotypes that go along with the Irish, we tend to refer to ourselves as Irish more than Canadian. I blame Bryan Adams personally.
That being said... none of us has ever even been to Ireland. Canada we visit regularly.
Growing up, we would make the trek to my aunt's house a few times a year. We would sleep on her floor, her couch, the spare room, her sons' room. We would pile in the woody wagon (a wonderful snot green color with matching vinyl interior) and fight over who had to sit in the middle. In fact, back then we would lay down in the "way back" with blankets and pillows and read books, play Mad Libs, do Fun Pads, License plate game, Sign game. We even sang corny songs. Seat belts were for race cars, not a 70s Chevy Wagon.
My mom would wake us up at like 6 in the morning, the car would be packed and off we'd go. We would eat our sandwhiches at a rest stop in Vermont.
I remember realizing in my early 20's how short the trip actually was and immediately thought maybe my mom drove real slow or something. It just seemed like an 8 hour trip. It's really 5. And, my mother later admitted to being something of a drag racer as a teen in the 50s. How cool is that?
We never really stayed for more than a few nights. We would do the Sugar Eat. That's basically going to a sugar shack/dining hall, eating crazy amounts of food that have maple syrup poured all over it. Then of course the sugar on snow. We would play cards until the wee hours of the morning. I would play with cousins that barely spoke English. We always, always had a great time.
As I got older, the Canada Road Trip was de riguer. Pile in a Ford Escort with a few 30 packs, $50 and 4 friends, drive to Canada, drink yourself straight and come home. I can't go into details here for legal reasons. ;0)
So, Canada rocks. It always has. It is where my family is. It's where my mother was born, where as children we would hear her speak her native language. And we would crack up at her "wha wha wha's" (insert Charlie Brown parent sounds here)... we mostly never learned French. Mostly.
So Celine Dion aside, I'm Canadian folks. My name is Jenn and I'm half Canadian. There. I've reclaimed the other 50% of my ancestry.
Now, I'll be gettin' me my pint and then off ta bed with ya!
Bon soir.
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