And one more for fun:
We have recently been in Southern Alberta visiting the grand parents for Easter. Besides our religious observances of the Resurrection, we also celebrate spring with egg dying and egg hunting, and easter baskets and rolling eggs down a hill.
Rolling Eggs down the hill basically consists of taking our coloured eggs to the hill and rolling them down the hill. It is my understanding that it is an example of good pioneer fun.
Rolling Eggs is a long observed “Leavitt” tradition that we have done since before I was ever around. When I was little, I loved it. When I was a teen, I was embarrassed by it (and tried to do it as ironically as possible). Now that I’m a mother, I love the sense of tradition.
We have memories around rolling our eggs down the hill that have become family folk tales. We say “the yolk’s on Kevin” and always check to see that Avril was NOT the one boiling the eggs.
What is the point of Egg rolling? I don’t know. Is it to see who’s goes the farthest? Is it to see who’s lasts the longest without cracking? Is it to make a spectacle of yourself? Yes to all of the above.
Over the years the cast of characters has changed. It used to be about me, my sisters and my cousins. Then came our kids. There was the year little Emma insisted on gathering all the eggs including mine, and yours…tears!
Last year we rolled with Henry and Jane – our little New Yorker Cousins.
And this year Ian developed a new technique – winding up by turning in a circle shot-put style.
This year – was the first inter-species experience. We brought young Willow the Schnorkie with us. She was good enough to chase the eggs down the hill and bring them back for us. Making the fun easier on aging knees. (thanks buddy). Hilarious.
I love Egg rolling because it is always the same and always different. Always embarrassing and always fun.
The pioneers really had something here. Awesome
This is just a quick post to tell myself and the world that I have not completely forgotten my blog. I’ve just been super busy. We have been enjoying a very productive school year in which Ian is learning to read and Emma is being amazing…and Me – the Mom – just completed all my requirements for graduation of my Speech-language Assistant program. I received Honors with distinction and also have a job. So now I have a degree in B.ED and a lovely diploma in SLPA (pronounced slippa’) comfy cozy. Time for a nap.
hello friends!…It has been too long since I last posted a blog entry. My plan has been to write about the witty shenanigans of my summer with the family but it turns out that when you’re trying to entertain the troops it’s hard to write about entertaining the troops. Hence, no blog posts all summer. 😦
It is out of desperation that I’m even posting now. As of today , I am as poor as the poppiest pauper who ever popped.
Mrs. Hill is back-to-school broke! After an amazing weekend of installing a fence and paying for my University class, Buying my university required vaccinations, and enrolling my Emma in Ballet, I have $23.00 in the old bank..
These are desperate times. Please follow along as I propose some equally desperate measures:
ARE YOU HAVING A MUSICAL EMERGENCY???
CARRIE HILL IS NOW OFFERING EMERGENCY PIANO LESSONS.. CALL TODAY.
(prices will be triple the going rate so as to acknowledge the fact that it will be a terrible inconvenience to me)
HOT SHOT AND HOLIDAY RATES ALSO AVAILABLE.
Thank you for your consideration.
When I was 5 years old I remember walking home from kindergarten and picking beautiful flowers for my mother…my mother whom I loved very much. I thought romantically about how her face would light up (perhaps there would be a tear) and she would be overcome at the thoughtful generosity of her, now, favorite child. Somehow, however she seemed slightly underwhelmed by my offering though she did receive it graciously. OK, maybe she had a lot on her mind, there was no tear but she did say thank you. Next day, giving her another chance, same thing. Still, even a little less gracious. By the end of the week My mother bluntly asked me to stop bringing her flowers and explained that they were really weeds.
That simply couldn’t be. They were so beautiful. How could They be weeds! No! Flowers for sure, THEY ARE FLOWERS!!!!!
Fast forward “#!” years and my yard is filled with them. With a special kind of rage that wells up inside, I fight the brave fight to vanquish my lawn from these terrible specimens before they turn white into “wishing flowers” and I have to hire a bio hazard containment team to remove them without spreading seeds.
But this week my own kindergarten boy gathered some up for me which of course I love…and blew some wishes into the wind that WILL obviously come true. In Kindergarten Dandelions are magical.
Perhaps they are flowers after all.
We have been trying hard to have a nice yard – that rhymes….but needed some help. Last weekend Melissa (my sister) and Kenyon (her husband) came to the rescue. Melissa is a horticulturalist and Kenyon is a Landscape Architect technician. I wanted their expertise with the shovel to help my impoverished yard become rich and plentiful. So far so good. We (meaning Kenyon and Jon dug out a big L shaped bed in the backyard for my new trees and my old languishing raspberry bushes. I like it. In the front we dug a lovely yellow marigold/herb garden which I seem to be very proud of. It is lovely. Now I need to do something to deal with the grass.
Even though it was very windy Yesterday we (meaning me) got out and did some yard work. I am pleased to report that the garden is in and a new Bistro set graces the back deck. I like it outside. I want to feel the sun warm my skin and watch Willow Hill work on her golf swing. More backyard improvements to come. I’m excited.
Aah the pleasures of being a Mom this time of year. I’m overdue for my annual hair cut and I was recently told by a Grandmother of adult children that I look older than my age. She may or may not have been kidding but it all hit pretty close to home. So why the haggard look??? Why indeed. I try. I really do, but I have problem skin and unfortunate cow-licks and suffer from a love of all delicious food. I don’t think I’m alone…
But later my Emma shares a joke and sweet Ian hugs me and tenderly wipes his face on my shirt and I realize I have everything I need. It may not be glamorous being me but it’s still awesome…and by the way, Moms, if your shirt’s not dirty, you’re not doing your job right.
I’m almost sad to write the story of the last day of our vacation. We kept it a little lower down. We talked about it as a family and decided to spend the day with the Hughes. I mean how often to we really get to be with them. Mark had to work so we met Kim and went shopping, lunching, and then picking up Mark at the University. The 8 of us met Lori for Red Mango fro-yo and then went to the seaside/marina to enjoy the rest of the afternoon. Loved it. The kids took their shoes off and dipped in the oceany water. We gathered shells met a friendly swan and went back to Hugheses for French toast supper. AAaahh! I miss it already.
So our holiday Sunday was Easter Sunday. The kids had “bunny milk” with their cereal and off we went to church. Emma looked lovely in her new dress from H&M and Kim, Mark & the babies were really fun.
The Easter bunny miraculously dropped some things off at the Hughes house for my kids. (thanks Easter Bunny) we coloured eggs and rolled them down the hill (as per tradition) and had an egg hunt with Henry. I met several of Kims friends and liked them all. It’s nice that she has them when she lives so far from family.