Hurray, hurrah for apple pie! Yesterday was Thanksgiving and it was a thankful day. Although it wasn’t spent with the greater family it was still Thanksgiving.

This Thanksgiving was Cheryl’s and my first Thanksgiving together (Thailand ones don’t count). We chose to spend the weekend with each other as we are now the most immediate family we have. So we got in the car and drove across the prairies on a road trip. We drove for miles across the land admiring the natural beauty that is the prairies in fall. The leave were turning colour, the wind was rustling, and cabins were closing down. But, whilst most people were curled up by fireplaces, cooking dinners, and calling family we were trekking in the van. We drove through the Narrows and had lunch. We drove through Riding Mountain National Park and sat by a lake. We ate nachos and watched the sunset. And once we were successfully over the hills and through the woods to Grandmother’s house we went. We drove right into Shoal Lake to visit Cheryl’s Grandmother at the hospital there. She seemed quite pleasantly surprised to see us what with our smiles and Thanksgiving wishes. We had a nice visit for a few hours and then Cheryl and I ventured back into the open prairies.

By this time the wind was howling and the rain was coming in such torrents that it hit our van in large aqua-barriers. At times the weather could be considered “dicey” but like all things it eventually passed. By Sunday night we had arrived home and set ourselves up for the final 24 hours of Thanksgiving weekend. For our final day Cheryl and I did nothing but watch movies, prepare food, and eat food. I’m certain the Pilgrims would have been proud. Although we were not sitting across the table from family and friends, we were definitely giving thanks for all that we have. My particular highlight of the day was making my first apple pie from scratch. That’s right, Mom was not there so I made the apple pie (although I can’t take all the credit because whilst I was making the pie Cheryl made the rest of the meal).

Of course, whether you celebrate Thanksgiving with family or not the one tradition that is set in stone about the holiday is you must eat too much and then pass out from food coma, and this we did. By 9 p.m. we were comfortably numb and discovering that our belts go one size larger than usual, and maybe it’s the Mennonite in me but faspa soon overtook us and it was time for bed.

To all our family and friends out there who celebrated the holiday without us, we are thankful to have you in our lives. We hope your holiday was full of thanks, family, and food. And if you are just a lucky internet reader coming for a visit, thanks for sharing our story (and feel free to share yours if you want to leave a comment).

Happy Thanksgiving everybody!


Note: The pictures used in this post were taken be Cheryl Bates and Jay Ewert (that's right, from this weekend)

Life is Good...But the Weeds Must Die

Life in a small town thus far has been good. Cheryl has been enjoying her job and I have begun the regular life of a substitute teacher. For the past week-and-a-bit I have been daily moving between schools pretending I am a knowledge source from everything from Grade 1 to highschool home-ec. I feel like those annoying people in the Holiday Inn commercials; “Well, no I’m not an ICT instructor, but I did stay at a Holiday Inn Express last night!”. But the work has been good. I have been exposed to the schools and most of the experiences have been good. I would tell you more but this is a public blog and I am not about to become an ‘agent of the state’ with his foot in his mouth.

Otherwise, we are happy in our home.

Today, however, poses a new threat to my happiness because insofar no one has called me in to work, and that means I have no excuse to avoid the pending yardwork. There is at least 12 hours of pulling weeds with my name written all over it and so a-weed-pulling- I must go.

This feeling is not one of triumph such as my heroic battle against the lawn because unlike the lawn, which carries its own sense of elegance and self-worth, weeds are a ruthless enemy. Weeds are sneaky and mean, they engage in Guerrilla-like tactics; striking when you least expect it, hiding behind the foliage only to strike when your guard is down. The thistles stick in your hands, the spores violate the air, and they are always planning another attack wave with hidden numbers. Their roots extend deep to the point of conspiracy. Indeed, the only way to rid yourself of a weed is to dig at its roots until either you or the weed is forever vanquished. To do otherwise is futile. But weeds have learned to survive. There are even plants in the garden that are really undercover weeds. They are broadleaf yet flower, but don’t be deceived, they are the enemy and they must die. Other plants seem to have forged an alliance, covering the existence of the weeds with their own foliage, thus concealing the threat and converting it to a covert operation. Yes, the weeds have a plan but I have a secret weapon…Killex. Yes, I intend to descend upon the yard with chemical warfare. With my Killex canister in hand I will distribute death to the organic onslaught that is the weeds. And when the canister runs dry I shall deal out weed-death with my garden-gloved hands. There may be some casualties along the way but it will all be for the greater good (I would say “democracy shall prevail but let’s not get ahead of ourselves, we are only talking about plants here).

In the words of Garfield the cat, “If I’m not back in 10 minutes, send a banana-cream pie after me.”