Don't Mess with Canada. Part Trois: Texas

Okay, so I have already posted some Texas pictures, but here's the rest!

We went to Texas for Murray's brother's wedding. Here is my favorite shot of the bride. Murray took it while she was trying to get ahold of her photographer who was late.

After the wedding in San Antonio, Murray and I headed to his old mission stomping grounds. Here we are visiting one of Murray's favorite sassy ladies.

Remember this map? Now look at that red dot. Now look at the Gulf of Mexico. Yep. We went from Red Dot to Galviston, on the Gulf of Mexico. We're that cool. In fact, we were recently watching a Planet Earth where snow geese were discussed. Apparently snow geese make this trip every year. But it take them four months. So as we dipped our feet into the warm waters of the gulf, we said, "Suck it, snow geese!"

This was honestly my favorite part of the trip. I had a big sense of accomplishment. Really! Four coasts in one year! I'll be dedicating an entire post to our coasts later. Because I'm that proud. Anyway. People were watching us take pictures and celebrate by yelling "Yatta!" (Like Hiro). But they really didn't understand just how much cooler we were than they. Did they just complete a four-coast pilgrimage? I think not.

Don't Mess with Canada. Part Deux.

Here is the second half of our Canadian adventure photos. Of course, our "Don't Mess with Canada" saga will continue with a few more Texas pictures. Maybe tomorrow.

Murray panning for gold at the Timmins Gold Mine tour. Never mind the fact that panning for gold is a Californian thing and wasn't done in Timmins.

A view of Timmins.

The two of us, in the underground mine tour, with a leftover miner.

Heading underground. We actually learned lots of interesting things on our mine tour. Gold mining is what Timmins was founded on, so I made the trip to the gold mine a must for Murray.


This next series of photos demonstrates the bug problem this year. Most Timminsonians we spoke to agreed that this was the worst year for bugs that they'd ever lived through (of course, they haven't all lived through it yet....). The bitter thing about living in Timmins is that you have eight solid months of winter, and when you can finally enjoy some mild weather, the blood sucking insects are out there to enjoy it with you. This series demonstrates the difficulty of taking a picture while being swarmed by mosquitos and black flies. Note the progression:

This is the outhouse at our cottage. We affectionately named the ravine where the outhouse was "Hog's Hollow." We had years of fun at the cottage before we had actual plumbing, so Hog's Hollow was very familiar to each of us. And every night, we'd all take a trip to Hog's Hollow (in the dark) and siblings would hide in the bushes and jump out to scare us. Good times.

Taking a dip in the lake.

On our way back to Toronto, we stopped by again to see Scotty and Myrtle, my great aunt and uncle. They are perhaps the funniest, warmest, most endearing couple on this earth. Scotty still runs his barbershop (you can see a picture of him and grandpa on Murray's blog)

Grandpa and Myrtle just happened to wear the same outfit.

And to give you some idea of what life is like when Scotty and Myrtle team up with Grandpa, here they are with the plumber. Who they joyfully invited into the photo, and who joyfully joined them.

I had to include this one of Scotty because this is the expression on his face about 90 percent of the time. When we first showed up (unannounced) on their doorstep on our way to Timmins, Scotty greeted each of us with this same level of enthusiasm. He is a riot. And of course, everything he says is even funnier because after over sixty years of living in Canada, he still has his thick, thick Scottish brogue.

Here is Murray at Niagara Falls, on our way back to Buffalo.

The two of us at the Falls, right about where Superman saved a falling child in Superman II, as Murray pointed out.

THE END
(Of Part Deux.)
(With a photo that shows what Murray appreciates when he thinks no one's watching.)

Don't Mess with Canada. Part Un.

A picture book story of our trip to Canada. Here's a quick run-down so that you know what our trip to Canada was like:

DAY 1ish
12:00 a.m.: Arrive in Buffalo.
12:30 a.m.: Cross the border.
2:00 a.m.: Go to Tim Horton's.
2:30 a.m.: Go to bed at Grandpa's house.
11:00 a.m.: Get on the road to head to Timmins.
12:00ish p.m.: Arrive at Weber's for lunch.
3:30 p.m.: Drive through North Bay, home of the Quintriplets.
5:00 p.m.: Temagami for ice cream at the Busy Bee, where Dad had pickerel at the chip stand.
8:00 p.m.: Drop off Grandpa at Scotty and Myrtle's in Matheson.
9:30 p.m.: Arrive at Auntie B's and Uncle J's in Timmins!

DAY 2
7:30 a.m.: Leave for Cochrane to take Polar Bear Express to Moosonee.
8:30 a.m.: Arrive in Cochrane and pay $100 each for the Polar Bear Express (a train).
9:00 a.m.: Leave from Cochrane. (We were supposed to get to Moosonee by about 2:00, and have three hours there to take a canoe trip around the James Bay.)
4:00 p.m.: Arrive in Moosonee, with only one hour to spend there.
4:20 p.m.: Dip feet in Moose River.
4:40 p.m.: Buy groceries for return trip to Cochrane.
5:00 p.m.: Barely get on train in time to go home.
12:00 a.m.: Arrive in Cochrane.
1:00 a.m.: Arrive at home.

Stopping at Webers, the ultimate train-turned-into-a-burger-joint restaurant.

Murray, driving the burger train.

[We had to stop at Webers. It's an essential childhood memory.]

At Temagami. We found out we can buy our own island with a house for just under a million dollars. Now we have a goal to work towards.

Murray at the Arctic Watershed.

As we pulled into Timmins, we saw a young bull moose with beautiful, velvet antlers to the side of the road. We pulled off the road to get a good look at him and he got a good look at us, too. He was so curious that he just stayed to watch us, which allowed Murray to take many, many beautiful pictures of him, worthy of National Geographic. Until, of course, the moose ran away, and we realized that I had left the camera on different light settings, and all we could see in the moose pictures was black nothingness. This is what Murray was able to tease out of the files in Photoshop. We imagine we'll have the same experience with camera trouble when we have our perfect opportunity to shoot Sasquatch.


DAY 2: On our way to Moosonee.

Just a few remarks before we get into these pictures so that you can fully appreciate them. The day we left to come to Canada, my mom left a voice mail on my phone. I listened to it and then had Murray listen to it. She detailed what a trip to Moosonee would entail. She listed the Polar Bear Express (a train that takes you to Moosonee because there are no roads), a $100 expense, in addition to $20 canoe rides and other fun Moosonee adventures. We'd have three hours in Moosonee. Murray listened to the message and said, "That polar bear thing sounds expensive, but I'm okay with everything else." That was funny to anyone from Timmins, because we all know that "the polar bear thing" is the essential train that you must take to get to Moosonee. So all the other stuff wouldn't happen unless we spent that money.

So we splurged. Why? Because when Murray and I were dating, we went to San Diego, CA, and to Ocean City, NJ, successfully hitting the West and East Coasts of the continent. Well, if we went to Moosonee, we'd be able to get to the James Bay, essentially hitting a "North shore" of the continent. Then we'd head down to Texas and swim in the Gulf of Mexico, adding a south shore to our list. All in under a year. What would you pay for bragging rights to such a feat?

What we didn't know is that the train would be slow. Very slow. In fact, we were crawling along to Moosonee at an average speed of 25 miles an hour. That turned our five-hour trip up into a seven-hour trip up. Which meant that we had just spent $100 each to be able to spend 1 hour in Moosonee. Suddenly the trip wasn't feeling quite worth it........

(Moosonee is the big red dot.)

(Notice the big smiles? It's the beginning of the trip.)

This is Auntie B, who is about to win the world record for hours traveled for a visiting teaching visit. There is a church member in Moosonee who was waiting for us. She had arranged the canoe trips for us.

This is at about hour six of the five-hour journey. We spent the time enjoying one another's company and getting to know one another really, really, really well.

When we arrived in Moosonee, the church member was still waiting for us at the station (she'd been waiting for two hours). We no longer had time for the canoe rides or the lunch that she had prepared for us. We did have time to run to the Moose River, where Murray and I were the only ones anxious to get our feet in the water. While we were soaking our feet in the waters of the north, Auntie B conducted her visiting teaching visit.

Murray and me, sinking into the Moose River.

Enjoying the frigid waters of the North, and not quite willing to go swimming. (There wasn't enough time, of course!)

Murray, getting on his shoes again.

Mom, documenting.

On the ride back now, you see that I went a little crazy. Fifteen hours of travel would make you go crazy, too.

Whenever we talked about feelings, Dad would conveniently fall asleep.

In case you're all wondering, the next day, Auntie B and Dad worked together to get us a full refund on our money. So now we definitely feel that it was worth our money (and time) to take this trip. In fact, we all agree that the train ride to and from Moosonee was one of the greatest moments (really, really long moments) of our Canada trip. We really all did enjoy one another's company, and enjoyed the humor of the situation.

THIS CONCLUDES PART UN OF THE DON'T MESS WITH CANADA SERIES.

Interruptions

It all started with a text message.

The Boy: Showered, teeth brushed, hair done, and dressed?

Cicada: Showered (last night), teeth brushed, hair in bandanna, sweat pants. Life is good.

As I was musing upon the fact that I am so much more productive now that I have basically no interruptions during my workday, the doorbell rang. I am always fascinated when I'm home and the doorbell rings. It's like my house has this secret life that I've never known about where people come over during the day, ring my doorbell, and don't leave a note. I had to know who was there.

I opened the door, and there stood The Boy (who lives in Salt Lake, and I live in Springville, so this wasn't quite expected). Pretty much the first thing he said was that we clearly don't like to deal with wasps nests, and pointed out the two obvious ones above our door.

I came outside to see everything more clearly and said, "Those are unoccupied, but this one has some activity," and I pointed to the wasp's nest near an electrical outlet. The Boy said, "Well that's easy to take care of" and promptly kicked the plastic covering on the electrical outlet.

I screamed.

And then I scurried to the door.

And I tried to open it.

But I failed.

Because I had locked myself out.

[I got into the habit of locking my door at all times in college, and now I can't open my door without immediately locking it again unconsciously.]

So there I was, locked outside with my little brother. At least I was showered and my teeth were brushed. But I was wearing a bandanna, sweatpants, and no shoes.

(Barefoot and pregnant? Yes and yes.)

Well, so much for my productive day without interruptions. Instead of visiting inside the house, The Boy and I enjoyed one another's company on our ride to Murray's work to pick up his copy of the house key. But hey, I saw a bald eagle for the first time in Utah on our way, so I'm thinking there might have been a divine hand in all of this after all.

(Safely back at home, in front of the computer.)

Get up, get dressed.

Well, I've been working independently now for almost a week. I haven't made a dime, of course, but I feel like I'm really close. Really, really close. I'm coming to find that I hate setting prices and I hate negotiating. It's all just so uncomfortable. Oh well.

I haven't been doing the best at my get up and brush my teeth and shower goal. But I think that'll get better. I told Murray this morning that without my commute, I still don't feel like I magically have extra time, and he suggested that maybe it's because I'm sleeping away that time. Good point. But it takes 10 hours a night to incubate a baby properly, doesn't it? At least I don't reach a mid-afternoon slump. But the laundry is piled up around the house and we still haven't unpacked, and the dishes are stacked to the ceiling. But hey. I've actually been preparing meals.

So basically this new life is going to take some getting used to. I didn't do my hair this morning. I don't think that the bandanna counts, necessarily, but I'm calling it good. Anyone who's known me for a while knows that the bandanna is a summer staple for me anyway, due to the fact that I'm a head sweater, so basically no haircut is going to look good during the summer months.