Skip to main content

Canada Day: Blackflies and Tim Horton Sugar Highs




Happy Canada weekend!
I was born on Canada Day, back in 1956.
It was actually July 2nd, but because I decided to exit my mother on a Monday, the nation threw a party for me.
My mother Vera was less than pleased. She had just popped a roast into the oven when the bun she already had in there decided to rise leaving her in a puddle in the middle of the kitchen. It was the first, but not the last time, my mother was pissed at me.
My father was nowhere to be found, I'm sure, so it was up to Gramps to take her to the hospital where I was proclaimed Rosalie, after a Scottish aunt, and Donna, after my Uncle Donnie paid my dad to put his name on the birth certificate.
Since then I've always celebrated my birthday on Canada Day. It has been pretty much out of necessity because everybody takes off to their cottages or on holidays after waving flags around here, so I've had to become strategic.
I will spend the day out in the backyard greeting guests in shifts, as some of them will be arriving early on their way to better parties.
We will eat sausages from Adam's Sausage Outlet, a place just down the road from the Ottawa Food Bank. Adam's makes the best meat vessels: brats, hot Italian, chorizo. Man, we loves us some sausages.
There will be burgers and dips and brownies, and salads and gluten free chips for the vegetarians and intestinally challenged. Yes, and strawberries bought from the Ottawa Farmers' Market.
It will be the Feast of Rosalita and I simply cannot wait.
Strangely, I'm looking forward to 58, filled with gratitude that I made it this far with only a testy gallbladder and mildly fatty liver -- not bad for a girl who once made Joe Walsh seem like an amateur.
This year, I have decided to refrain from making resolutions. Instead, I'll-do-the-best-I-can.
You know, love the skin I'm in, which by the middle of the month will be filled with botulism, just in time for my daughter's wedding.
Some old habits are hard to change.
Pass the tequila, Sheila, lay down and love me again.
Wishing you Happy Canada Day, peace and good government.
Remember, we live in the greatest country in the world if you like blackflies and Tim Horton sugar highs.
Party on, Canucks!
Remember: Don't drink and drive.
And kiss a beaver, if you can find one.


Comments

Popular posts from this blog

What Bell isn't telling you about Fibe TV

Update: This week, we switched back to Rogers after spending far too long using Bell's crappy television service. For those with Bell, read and weep. For those considering Bell, think twice even if you hate Rogers. RS I've always been an early technology adapter. I had a Betamax. That tells you everything (if you're over 50 at least). My first computer was a "Portable". It weighed 40 pounds and I had to lug it around town on a gurney. I've been through probably 15 computers in my lifetime. Apple is the best. It's also too expensive so I have a piece of shit HP, the one I'm writing this blog on. I've had cable, internet and now Netflix. American Netflix . That's how far ahead of the curve I am. I get all the newspapers for free. How? I disabled my cookies so they can't track me when I'm on the newspaper sites. Even the New York Times hasn't cottoned on to that trick. Hahaha. That will be a fifty buck consulting fee. Bein...

Ashley Simpson: Please sign this petition to help her family

Those who read this space regularly know that my family is frantic with worry about my cousin, Ashley Simpson , who has been missing 40 days now. Both her boyfriend and her landlord reported that she had left with no money, no car, no resources from her Salmon Arm, B.C. home after a domestic dispute over money. Since then, there has been no trace of her. The RCMP now considers this a homicide investigation, but the family has not heard any updates from them in more than three weeks. Just after she disappeared, her father, relatives and friends set out from St. Catharines on a long trek to B.C. to find her. They all left their work, and their lives, intent on finding Ashley who had always kept in touch. It was completely out of character for her to lose touch. Her parents have been consumed by worry. They have been unable to work, and are having a hard time functioning. As a result, they are now relying on donations from family and friends to keep the wolf from the door...

The strange case of Greg Etue

I got out of the daily news reporting game, I'll admit, because I didn't have the stomach to cover the many sad stories that came across my desk. I remember clearly once when I had to call an RCMP sergeant after his young son blew his head off with the officer's service revolver. "Please," he pleaded. "I really can't talk right now." "It was your gun, is that correct?" He slammed down the receiver. I was ashamed of myself. People have a right to some privacy in difficult times like that. I also used to hate having to go to the door of a dead child's home and jostle the competition for a picture. Really, it felt more like ghoulism than journalism. That said, I still believe that these stories must be told in an honest and forthright fashion with all the facts and none of the flourish and emotion that is all the rage in reporting these days. Over the past two years, we, in this community, have been treated to a lot o...