Reaching the Front

“A young person’s death is much like a shipwreck at sea. An old person’s death is a ship coming into port at last.”

I was at a funeral today. That fact alone is enough to make me feel introspective, but when the person being remembered is someone I’ve known my whole life my introspection is pushed into high gear.

I’ve written before about growing old, and I would have to say that from my vantage point, planted right between fifty and sixty, I’m already not a big fan. Although I don’t feel half my actual age, here’s the thing.

Remember the days when little boys used to play with armies of toy soldiers, lining them up in rank and formation on the hearth rug while mother churned butter or kneaded bread? Neither do I, but you get the picture.

It seems to me that generations are lined up something like those little soldiers. As a child you’re way back in the ranks — surrounded by so many others you can’t even see the front, let alone imagine you’ll be forced to take your place there someday. When you reach young adulthood, you’re still not aware of being part of this army, but one day you will realize life truly has been formatted in generational lines. You will understand how the game works. That’s where I am right now.

One by one, mighty soldiers in the front lines of my life have fallen, and a few days ago another good woman fell. Many of those now gone weren’t even related to me, but in many ways and for many reasons they formed part of that line. The very line I felt was protecting me. Yes, there are some gaping holes back where I’m standing because life isn’t always fair, but it’s mostly the front lines that have suffered.  For me, there have been so many in the generation ahead that it’s taken awhile for the holes to really show, but now I can see through the last line standing ahead of me, and I don’t like it one bit.

I have no fear of leaving this life, but I have a great fear of leaving it too soon. I’m very greedy about that and I lust after the gift of living, healthy and whole, to see my grandchildren grown up, and maybe even know great-grandchildren.

Days like today help me buckle down and work hard at things I want to accomplish. Things like my writing. And I realize anew how important it is to develop and nurture relationships. I like to think that parts of me will live on in the words I’ve written and the relationships I’ve maintained no matter when my time comes to pass through the thin curtain separating this life from the one beyond.

Given good health and a sound mind though, I’d welcome the chance to put into port with a smile on my face at the end of a full and satisfying voyage.

Come On An Adventure With Me!

For the past few months, my cousin has been sharing emails with me, written by her niece. Each of them is entitled “Tavelogue Supreme” and I can’t think of a more perfect description.

Several months ago, following a summer of tree-planting in Western Canada, Angelina set off for her personal adventure of a lifetime, beginning in Southeast Asia. While many others have taken similar trips, it’s Angelina’s clear and beautiful writing style that sets her experiences apart.

I asked for permission to share some supreme travelogue quotes to give you an idea of what this young woman, traveling alone, has experienced.

I ended up getting into phnom penh at 1 in the morning, Pheakdey (an acquaintance who had spent a year in Ontario) came and rescued me from homelessness on his motorbike. (motorbikes through phnom penh are the best ever. I just hang on side-saddle and am constantly amazed that we’re not getting hit/run over. Pheakdey hardly even stops at all, just honks and keeps going through traffic.)

* * * * *

Today I wandered around town, took a river taxi for 50 cents, ate some fried squid, now i’m about to go out and find dinner. Street food is crazy cheap. I can eat my fill of authentic delicious thai food for under 2$!!!!  Having fun, but Bangkok makes me tired with its busy-ness. And i’m shy so far: it’s hard to meet people even in a hostel setting. I’ll get better though!

* * * * *

To close i’ll share with you a few selections from my list of crazy things I’ve seen on motorbikes. I update regularly.

1) a dead pig (of course)

2) a huge rectangular mirror (the guy holding it could see all the traffic behind him)

3) a family of 5

4) and my personal favorite, an IV drip bag. Seriously. There was a lady on the  back holding it up above her head for the passenger in front who needed it. I could hardly believe my eyes. ONLY IN SOUTHEAST ASIA.

 update on weird things I’ve eaten:

-snake

-fried tarantula.

(never again)

* * * * *

I have been on a train since 1 in the morning! Just crossed the Malasian border, heading to the island of Penang (food capital of Malay!) to meet up for a few days with a friend I met at the building centre. The street vendors there are supposed to be legendary. Like I need to eat more on this trip but you only live once.

I finally tore myself from my tropical island a few days ago, it was difficult, the sea is alive and breathing, a million shades of blue – and the sunsets! but my time is running out. I can’t lay on a beach and eat seafood and go scuba diving forever. But…i am now a advanced open water diver! I LOVE the ocean. I dove to 30 meters, I dove at night, (when you wave your hands at the bottom, all the phosphorescent plankton glows neon and swirls around! so cool!) and I did a navigation dive which mainly consisted of me being lost underwater and crying into my scuba mask at -25 meters. I did 10 dives in all.

Just snorkeling on Koh Tao was the most amazing thing, thousands of crazy looking fish to stare at. My favorite is called the juvenile harlequin sweetlips, which sounds like something you wouldn’t want to name your daughter- but google it! it has polka dots.  … Once I swam into a school of little fish so thick I couldn’t see the other side, it felt like those national geographic pictures. but I’m living in it!!!!!

Another of my favorite sights was flying fish- while sitting on the edge of the scuba boat, I noticed them flying away from the wake – they can fly SO FAR! I was astounded. At least 30 meters.

My days consisted of learning dives and hikes and sea kayaking and snorkeling, my evenings were usually spent on the beach with friends watching the fire twirlers and jumping fiery jump rope. so exotic.

* * * * *

Books I’m reading:

‘Vagabonding: an uncommon guide to long term travel.’

Just finished this one. It was wonderful and very thought provoking. It talked a lot about the value and purpose of travel.

Typhoon and other stories – Joseph Conrad

Just started. 4 short stories about life at sea. It had a sweet cover of a ship tossing on a stormy ocean which was 75% of the reason why I bought it. also i want to live on a ship someday!

* * * * *

 Thinking of you all chilly in canadian weather makes me a bit jealous, i am currently exuding a considerable amount of sweat and laying against my dampish backpack on the floor of the kuala lumpur train station waiting for the overnighter to Singapore. also I can smell my own feet.

I’ve had to fast track it through Malaysia, which makes me very sad. I love it here. The culture is so different from Laos/Cambodia/Thailand, as those are all Buddhist countries. Malaysia is mostly Muslim. I woke up in Penang the other morning at sunrise to hear the call to prayer, and the trains here have ‘ladies only’ coaches. There are also apparently some religious police patrolling around to nip any ‘inappropriate behavior’ between couples in the bud. Kindof wish we’d have that in the toronto subways sometimes.

Example of the cultures blending and western influences: I walked past a textile store selling dozens of muslim headscarves that was blasting Bryan Adams, of all artists. So funny.

And the food is inCREDIBLE! By far my favorite. I love Indian food. waking up for a breakfast of roti chanai -crispy and buttery, dipped in curry sauce, (for 50 cents!!!!) is the best day-starter. you can watch them make it, right in front of you with the most deft, practiced motions. I’m learning to eat with my hands (only the right one!) and usually food is served on a banana leaf. The naan is cooked on the side of a clay charcoal oven.

After Penang, I headed to the Cameron Highlands to check out the tea plantations. They were gorgeous – field after field of emerald tea, at crazy angles on the hills. masala tea is my favorite.

And a few days later:

I haven’t sent the note above this one yet because I got distracted by Singapore. It’s so modern and the buildings are all artsy and uniquely designed. I am also jealous of the subway system they have here. I climbed up to the Skypark viewpoint the other night at sunset … and it looked so futuristic and alien-city-esque. …

I met an English teacher from Alberta last night, she told me that the city was lacking a warm heart, was more showy than livable. … I’m sure there are warm pockets, but I don’t think I’d ever want to live here! I’m vey glad to visit, though.

I’m sitting in the Singapore national library with a huge stack of books on Nepal beside me. I feel kindof like i’m cramming for a test.  My flight leaves tonight at a 11:30 and I get to Kathmandu at 2pm tomorrow!

Here’s an excerpt from the book I’m perusing:

‘the Himalaya is a case of seeing is believing. Whatever you heard or read is going to fall a long way short of the sheer power of reality. –Michael Palin

I’m kind of nervous, can my brain handle all this magnificence and do it proper justice on such short term notice? I hope so. I’ll let you know in real life, cus I’m coming home soon!!

Lots of love,

Angelina

Books I’m reading:

A Short History of Nearly Everything: Bill Bryson

His writing is so down to earth and I love it so far!!!

* * * * *

i LOVE kathmandu. Its crazy and busy and crowded with narrow streets and much honking, but oh so interesting! And i met the BEST person ever to explore with! ill fill you in.the first night i arrived, pestered non-stop by taxi-guys and people trying to get me to stay at their guesthouses.

i ended up wandering hungry in Thamel (backpacker area of kat) with my bag still on my back. all i wanted was some good cheap dahl baat. i asked a nepali lady who was selling coin purses in the streets where to find food, she took me to a little place where I got my fill of rice & lentils and vegetable curry for about a dollar. then she invited me to stay at her place for the night. i thought, why not, it’s about time to follow my whims again, there’s no one else with me to tell me I’m crazy!That’s how I met shita, the cutest little Nepali guide and friend one could ask for.

It was past sundown and on the way, there were people on the street selling vegetables by candlelight, (so nicely dark here at night! outside of thamel, that is) I had no idea where we were going. finally she opened a little door in a sidestreet and beckoned me in. I ducked into a tiny dark hallway and followed her up the stairs (my backpack was scraping the ceiling).at the top, there was another door that opened into her apartment. the room had one window and one big bed, her husband and two little boys were already snuggled in under a bunch of blankets. she made me sit down. I stashed my bag in the corner. It looked massive in the little room and I immediately felt materialistic.

her husband got up and made us tea. all the while I’m thinking, so where am I actually going to be sleeping in this situation..? The bed wasnt THAT big. good thing I’m 100% low maintenance cus I ended up sleeping in my clothes at the foot of the bed, literally spooning this woman who i had just met on the streets of Kathmandu. when we woke up, her little boys (5&7) were climbing over my legs and staring at me. uh mom, why is there a white girl in my bed? they were so cute.

I guess she kind of adopted me then or something. She and her husband treat me like a daughter, and I’ve spent all my time here so far letting her drag me all over the city, past the tourists and ticket counters, and into the real kathmandu.  We stop at little tea places for milk tea and lassi and 10 rupee plates of potato curry.

the locals always look at me weird cus im out of place. which is good. I’ve had so few conversations in English since I’ve been here, (therefore I’ve been journaling twice a day..) she knows maybe 20 english words, but it’s been the absolute best thing ever.

* * * * *

Angelina’s mom.

And now the present. Out of NOWHERE 2 days ago my dear mom decided to come to do Annapurna with me. I called home (for the first time since ive been gone) in a small fit of loneliness, and told her that if she ever does anything else super crazy in her life this should be the time. the next morning I woke up with an email saying her flight was booked.

 

Let me just go on a bit about my mother. this woman is the original adventurer. opinionated, spunky, fun –  from growing up Amish and riding horse and buggy & being a cow milker extraordinaire in virginia, to summers of flying to northern Ontario to live on a reserve. not to mention marrying my canadian papa and having 5 kids. She understood my wanderlust from the start.

 

I’m sure she worries a little as I’m gallivanting across the globe to treeplant and travel, but she gets it. and she’s COMING! she’s never been been overseas. I’m so excited for her cus I know she’ll love it, and I’m excited for me, cus now I have someone here who knows me and that I love, that I can share all my discoveries with.

I wish I had some poetry for you but it’s late and I’m not going to turn the light on and hunt for my poetry book. I’ll leave you with a realization.I really do love being on my own while i travel. It’s hard sometimes, but it gives me such freedom to follow my own whims, and almost always they lead me to the most beautiful places. And when they do, the victory is all mine. I realize that may be selfish – i’m sure my independent streak will dim with a little time, or I’ll meet more people who have whims like mine. but this is true for now.That being said, I still can’t wait for mom to get here!!!!!!

Love you all infinitely,

Angelina

Ps. I’ve been buying way to many potentially genuine yak wool products.

pps. I saw a man with TRIPLE PLAID the other day. Skirt, shirt, AND scarf. best of all he pulled it off brilliantly!!

ppps. I had over 10 cups of tea today.

* * * * *

And the most recent installment in its entirety.. Can you see yet why I’m envious of this young woman?

Hello dear friends,

I am surrounded by mountains in Jomsom, Nepal: day 10 of the hike. It’s been an overwhelmingly beautiful past week and a half. Around every corner is a new stunning sight (the diversity is unbelievable … from waterfalls to snowy towering peaks to the mustang table lands.) and besides the obvious mountains, all the travel guides forgot to mention how interesting and lively the little villages scattered along the circuit are. walking —– tasting the air, feeling the wind off the mountains, having the freedom to go as slow as you want —– is the only way i know to adequately drink it all in. I would recommend this hike to ALL of you, it is probably the coolest thing i have ever done in my life. and its not even over yet!

Along with mom, my good friend Jacob came out of nowhere (actually, china..) to join the hike. such a random menagerie of people, I love it!!!  We’ve been going i’d say an average of 15ish k per day. I like to take the walks slower, with longer days, so i can stare in wonderment at more scenery.

Two days ago we crossed the Thorung La Pass – 5400m above sea level, and the days leading up to it were so, so cold!!!!! mom & i snuggled up together under as many blankets as we could get from the teahouse owners. i didnt ever want to get out of my clothes, and no hot water….i think i wore the same thing for a few days and nights straight…oh well. all in the family, the mountains didn’t care.

Mom and Jake did wonderfully on the pass, but I got pretty sick: near the top, I actually threw up from altitude sickness. it was scary and exhausting i was very happy to be done when we finally reached Muktinath, over a kilometer below. the Nepali guides said that i had it worse because i had a cold – makes sense, flying right from singapore to nepal!

We are hoping to be done the loop before the 30th, and it’s looking very very good!!! we woke up today and started hiking at 6, and got a solid 20 k out of the way by midafternoon. we left muktinath, through the big brown mountians of mustang, and hiked towards the Daulaghiri range (sp..?)(mt, daulaghiri being the worlds 7th highest peak!)…and now the trail is running along the kali gandaki river, which trickles through a huge wide bed of stones that ALL look like what I’d want to add to a rock collection. they have little fossils in them and ultra cool patterns! the river will get narrow and deep tomorrow, i’m sure.

there’s still SO much more to see. Annapurna 1 hasn’t even came into view yet! this was a quick message, i could wax poetical on all the sights i’m seeing but i must go eat dinner and explore a little more. i will write more, or TELL you, in person – ill be home in a WEEK! crazy. please come see me when i am home! ill be off again to the west at the end of April.

Much much love to you all!

Angelina

ps. mom tried brushing her teeth the other day with Bengay muscle rub instead of toothpaste….ahhhh hahah! oh mom.

Envious as I feel of this amazing experience, I know I don’t have the personality nor a deep enough desire to ever have carried off a trip like this. Instead, I’m thankful that through the wonder of modern technology I can be an enthusiastic armchair tourist as Angelina travels.

I hope you’ve enjoyed these tidbits about her  journey as much as I’ve enjoyed going along though full emails over the past few months.

Once You’ve Learned How …

Once you’ve learned how to ride a bike, you’ll never forget.

And once you’ve learned how to ice skate you’ll never forget either, thank goodness!

(Apologies in advance for the quality of the photos. I knew better than to try skating while using my good camera, so my phone did the job instead.)

When I was in my teens I spent many Saturday nights skating at Cedarena. This unique outdoor arena has been a beloved fixture in the hamlet of Cedar Grove (near Markham, Ontario) since 1927. It’s nestled in a cozy valley, sheltered on thee sides by cedar-covered hills, and on the fourth side the Little Rouge River provides plenty of water for flooding the natural ice surface.

Despite all my happy memories of the place, I haven’t been back in twenty-odd years. Haven’t skated in that long either. I always have good intentions, of course, but the winters just seem to slip by.

Since becoming a friend of Cedarena on Facebook, I get regular updates, so when Rink Manager Gary posted that this might be the last weekend of skating, I decided to grab my skates and go!

But it was unthinkable to go alone. I decided that grandkids Maggie (7) and Noah (nearly 6) should be introduced to the magic.

I tried to tell the kids about Cedarena, but was obvious I hadn’t explained very well, because when we pulled into the parking lot — a well-lit field filled with vehicles — Maggie exclaimed, “Ohhhh, there are other people here too! This is going to be way funner that I thought!”

We followed the winding path down the steep slope to the old wooden building which is warmed by a wood stove and lined with low wooden benches for changing into skates. My heart thrilled to find that it hadn’t changed a bit.

The narrow benches on the outside, just wide enough to perch on for a quick rest, were exactly the same, as were the two steps down to the ice. The old-fashioned music playing over the speakers, and lights strung above the surface, created the same ambiance. Soft flakes falling from the dark sky made the place beautiful.

There was one thing I hadn’t counted on though. I’ve always skated with figure skates but this time I wore my daughter’s hockey skates. Oops! With a tipsy seven year old hanging on my hand I pushed off, trying to use the absent toe pick, and I nearly landed both of us on the ice. I had to learn to skate like a boy in a big hurry!  Pop and Noah skated together and we all had a whale of a time.

The temperature was a perfect 7C (44F) — just cold enough to put colour in noses and cheeks, but warm enough to stay outside for a long time. We laughed together when they fell, and cheered when they didn’t. When Maggie got her confidence up we left the safe spot in the middle of the ice and skated around the perimeter with everyone else. At one point she gave a loud shriek when we came up behind a slower skater. “They should put brakes on these things!” she yelled.

Of course, we had to have hot chocolate …

… and then they begged for more skating, so we did, but it was obvious the kids were fading, despite their protests to the contrary. Two exhausted kids slumped on the benches while we changed, and then we gathered our things up and left. But not before taking one final picture.

The building hasn’t changed — 2 x 4s covered with siding, the same wooden benches and the alcove jutting out with its own little bench. The wood stove didn’t use to be protected by chains. We all knew enough to stay away from hot stoves back then …

By 9:30 p.m. we walked back up the long hill to the car and both kids were in awe of being up at that late hour.

“That was the most fun I’ve ever had in my whole entire life!” Maggie said.

“That was super-amazing-million-billion fun,” Noah added.

They were both starving, so we called ahead and asked Daddy to get PB & J sandwiches and big glasses of milk ready for a bedtime snack. Five minutes later they were both fast asleep.

I’m so glad the kids had fun. So did Pop and I. And do you know something? It was the most super-amazing-million-billion fun I’ve ever had in my whole life.

The magic of Cedarena lives on.

Describe a Woman Using the Contents of Her Purse

I’m not sure why it came to mind, but this morning I was thinking about something I wrote several years ago. During my very first writing course  I picked an assignment out of Dorothea’s magic box asking me to write 500 words describing a woman using the contents of her purse. I was stumped at first, but once I got rolling, this thing kind of wrote itself.

It’s one of the first pieces I ever had published and I do like it because of that. I also think it’s a whole lot of fun to read.

* * * * *

THE TISSUE

Myrtle and May, on a very fine day,

Decided to go out for tea.

They chose a cafe, not so far away,

That had a nice view of the sea.

Because they were able, they chose the best table,

To enjoy the lovely view there.

They ordered their tea, Earl Grey it would be,

And divided a chocolate éclair.

They started off talking, then really got rocking,

Cov’ring all things under the sun.

May drank her tea down, but her face had a frown

When she saw Myrtle hadn’t begun.

May said to Myrt, “My dear, are you hurt?

Or is your problem some other issue?”

Myrtle said, “No, I just have a cold,

And I think I may need a tissue.”

Well, May didn’t lag, she dug in her bag

To see if a tissue was there.

She found a key to her home, a brush, and a comb,

And, in it, a strand of white hair.

A small book of photos diverted May’s motive,

She started to thumb through the pages.

“Oh Myrt, if you please, you must look at these!

It’s my grandchildren’s growing-­up stages.”

But, Myrt made a sniffle, a sort of a whiffle;

Wiped her nose on her hand, with a glower.

So May dug away, only to say,

“Look at that! My very first flower.

Now how d’ you suppose, that bit of old rose

Got into my handbag today?”

Myrtle glared straight ahead with a cool look that said,

‘Just get back to business, old May.’

May got back to the issue and searched for the tissue,

But instead she found an old card.

She tried for a minute to read the verse in it,

But reading blurred print was too hard.

She scrabbled about and then gave a shout,

“Eureka! I’ve got something here.”

She pulled out a hanky, all lipsticky and dank(y).

Myrt said, “Don’t bring that thing near!”

So May tried once more, found a knob to a door,

“I wonder what that’s all about?”

There were half-­rolls of candy and denture cream, handy,

If her teeth were about to fall out.

May looked all around and she said with a frown,

“Myrt, I can’t seem to find it, my dear.”

Then, quick as a rocket, she reached in her pocket.

“Land’s sake!” she exclaimed, “It’s in HERE!”

* * * * *

A Blogging Year in Review and, Possibly, Good Bye.

On January 12, 2012 I created my first blog entry. I didn’t know what to write about and I floundered for quite awhile before hitting my stride. After finishing the short piece I was nearly sick when I clicked the “Publish” button and threw my words out into the world. I wondered if it might end up being a world of two, or would a few more people be interested?

A few more people as it turns out, and at this moment,  January 1, 2013 at 5:10 p.m. 7,099 people have viewed this blog. Wow.

Today I received an email telling me that the “Stats Helper Monkeys” at WordPress “have been busy putting together a personalized report detailing how your blog did in 2012!” I’d like to share part of the email with you.

* * * * *

1. 600 people reached the top of Mt. Everest in 2012. This blog got about 7,000 views in 2012. If every person who reached the top of Mt. Everest viewed this blog, it would have taken 12 years to get that many views.
2. In 2012, there were 67 new posts, not bad for the first year!
3. The busiest day of the year was April 24th with 123 views. The most popular post that day was Holding Hands Across the King-size Bed..

This blog was viewed by people from 74 countries around the world. The top views were from Canada and the U.S., followed by the United Kingdom. Here’s a look at a few of them:

Country	Views
Canada	4,308
United States	1,218
United Kingdom	163
Australia	37
India	37
Malaysia	37
Philippines	36
Germany	35
New Zealand	26
Netherlands	24
Mexico	23
France	21
Italy	20
Austria	17
Thailand	15
Sweden	14
South Africa	14

In addition, I found some of the Google statistics interesting. Top Google searches that landed people on this blog were:

snake grass, Kraft peanut butter jars, and The Highwayman.

* * * * *

While 7,000 views in a year might be small potatoes for some bloggers, it is beyond anything I ever imagined. I have no explanation for this, only that it happened.

But now that it’s happened, what next?

The past year has been busy for me in a entirely different way than usual. My writing time, space, and quiet was compromised for the entire year and rather than buck the circumstances I decided to change my routine to accommodate them. Now life is returning to normal and I’ll have more time to spend on serious writing. I know of short story contests to enter, and I have a second book I’d like to get out of my system. There are classes I could take and a whole lot of research and background work I’ll need to do.

Will there be time for a blog? I don’t think so. At least not a regular one.

I wish I could thank every single person who took the time to read a post or two, because that’s what made this experimental year feel like such a success. If you’re reading this now, (and you obviously are) please accept my humblest thanks. I hope you’ve enjoyed the words I’ve shared this year.

Now I’m rambling … I’m tearing up … I think I should probably just sign off.

Thank you, thank you. 7,099. Wow. Thank you!

Rat Eggs

Christmas Eve has passed, but this time of year isn’t quite complete without me or one of my sisters recalling the rat eggs.

Although I grew up as a plain, ordinary farm kid in a plain, ordinary family, my parents were years ahead of much of the rest of Toronto in one regard. For reasons I can’t remember, or perhaps never knew, they linked up with a kind woman who lived in a gracious old home right on the shore of Lake Ontario, west of downtown Toronto. The three-story redbrick house stood on a quiet street lined with tall trees, and it was filled with beautiful old furniture and oriental rugs. There was an unused boathouse out back that jutted into the lake, and we children spent much time sitting on its balcony in nice weather.

This woman had opened her home to lonely “international students” attending the University of Toronto and my parents, along with a couple of other farm families, supported her. My mother and some of the other women would spend a day there from time to time helping clean the house and wash bedding. We looked forward to, and always attended, the monthly dinners prepared by students from various countries. The house would be filled with the fragrance of mysterious spices, and we children learned to try foods we’d never seen before.

We made many new friends there and they were often invited to visit our farm. The students would travel from downtown Toronto by bus or subway, and we’d pick them up at the end of the line. They’d spend the day, or sometimes an entire weekend, with us before heading back home on public transit.

One of the people we saw often was a fellow named Bob. Bob had come from the Philippines to study and was hopeful that someday his wife could join him in Canada. One year, when I was ten or eleven, my parents recognized a real loneliness in Bob and invited him to spend Christmas with our family.

That Christmas Eve, Bob took great delight in preparing a traditional Filipino dish for supper. Although we’d been exposed to many international foods, my sisters and I were still a little leery of eating things we couldn’t identify, so we were delighted to find that this meal included non-threatening noodles. Our plates held mostly noodles and just enough of the rest of the foods to make our mother happy, and appear polite to the cook.

As I recall, the food was quite delicious, and part-way through the meal my mother asked what the noodles were made of.

Bob, whose English was excellent but heavily accented, smiled. “Rat eggs,” he answered.

Almost in unison, four little girls laid down their forks and placed hands in their laps. No glares from Mom could make us pick them up again.

“It was really good, but I’m too full to finish,” we each said, adding our own twist to the same phrase.

At long last, the meal was over and we helped clean up before getting ready for bed. After we were tucked in, Mom and Dad took Bob to Christmas Eve mass at a church not far from our home. With grandparents living at one end of the house, and a great-aunt at the other, we weren’t alone, but the house did seem very quiet.

After we’d been in bed for awhile my younger, but much smarter, sister spoke through the darkness.

“Girls, rats don’t lay eggs.”

We were stunned. Of course rats don’t lay eggs, but … but … that’s what he’d said!

After a bit of discussion we realized that we’d misunderstood the word. Bob had actually said raw eggs, but with his accent he’d pronounced it as ra’, and we’d subconsciously supplied the  ‘t’. The noodles were plain old egg noodles, something we’d eaten our whole lives.

As we lay waiting for sleep to come, we were still a little hungry. The delicious noodles were long gone, but we were mightily relieved that we didn’t have any rat’s eggs in our tummies.

I don’t remember if we laughed then, but we’ve laughed many times since at the story of Bob and the noodles.

Boxing Day Fun

I spotted the picture that follows on a friend’s blog this morning and I’ve had a bit of fun trying to figure it out. If some of the rest of you are still lollygagging around in a turkey coma, or just enjoying a PJ day, here’s my small Boxing Day gift to you.

According to a challenge issued earlier this year, “This picture contains clues to 75 London tube stops. The puzzle is made up of images that suggest station names when paired together.”

If, like me, you don’t have a clue about London tube stations, there is a complete list of names here.

Click on the link below the picture for an extra-large view.

Go here, then click on the picture at that site for an extra-large view. (For starters, do you see Marble Arch, Knightsbridge,and Angel? Others are a bit trickier.)