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Old Friends and Frozen Feet

Sometimes you forget that you have been missing things until you’re enjoying them again. This weekend I had the wonderful pleasure of having Daniel visit me in Red Deer for the weekend. After a crazy lack of proper directions and almost no arrangements of when, where and how to meet each other, he made it into the front doors of the college late Friday evening to meet me while I lounged, waiting in flip flops on the window sill of the main hallway, catching the strange looks of those passing by.

For so long I had been looking forward for this wonderful chance to spend time together and hang out again, yet when it actually came, I hardly noticed it was unusual to have Daniel around. The good memories of the past seem to lapse into familiarity in moments, no matter how long you have gone without them. We spent our time catching up over cups of tea, wonderful food, chopstick walrus teeth and far-too-late bed times with make-shift sleeping arrangements. I was only glad for my health’s sake that we don’t get to hang out all the time, or these dark lines under my eyes would soon become permanent residents of my face.

Thankfully we managed to do everything that we had planned for the short weekend, including a children’s story book about Mr. Poo, a character Daniel created back in high school, and a picture of us painted with mud, baring our arms and teeth as we stood shirtless and shoeless in the snow. For some reason the idea of being barefoot in the snow didn’t actually seem that terrible to me. I had this strange idea that it would be almost too cold to feel properly, or that it would take a minute or two for my feet to actually realize what was going on. Unfortunately, feet have a very apt sense of temperature, and after a couple quick pictures we slipped our snow covered toes back into our shoes and ran shivering back to the residence buildings.

Time went so quickly, it seems like a dream now that I think of it. Daniel is back to Saskatchewan, and my college life resumes with a blasé normality. And yet, we had a wonderful time – reminding ourselves of past antics in boarding and the all the crazy things we did during our time in Pakistan. I forgot just how much we packed into those few years. It wasn’t until we were explaining it to a friend, who generously hosted us for Saturday evening and all of Sunday, that I realized just how insane our ‘exploits’ sounded to a outside listener. Flaming arrows, fish cremations, riots in dorm halls, evading bedtimes and burning snow-witches. They were good memories. They still are, and with old friends around, these old memories are exchanged, cherished and brought back to life again.

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Some Suzuki Adds

I had a good laugh today, reading some car adds from Islamabad, Pakistan, all advertising their Suzuki Bolan’s which they wanted to sell. I thought I would share them, to spread the joy a little.

The first one might be a little lame if you don’t know what a dibba is.

dibba noun : 1. a small container. 2. may refer to a dinky tin car

“i want to sale suzuki bolan carry dibba. 100% genuine condition. rawalpindi number. demand 650,000”

And another…

“i wana sale my bolan van
alwoy rims new tire gud condection no work just drive”

And the best of all. I still haven’t quite figured out the last portion of this add. I tried very hard, but I’m afraid language has its limits.

“CARRY SUZUKI BOLAN ARJANT for sale NEW TAIER ORIGNAL BOOK GOOD CONDATION ALOS ALLKI TACHING BAHAR SEA ONLY UNDAR SEA JUNION ALSO OK GOOD ANY TIME CALL  LOCATION SEHALLA RAWALPINDI”

Hope that made your day!

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Brushing Teeth

I think it pays to have a perspective shift in your life every once in a while. This friday, after my usual shift of working at the coffee shop downtown, and a quick bubble tea with a friend, I hopped on a bus and headed over to my relatives house to baby sit for them while they went to watch a hockey game. I had planned to do a bit of homework that night, but I figured I probably wouldn’t have done it anyway, and baby sitting sounded like a much better idea.

When I got there I wolfed down my Vietnamese sub sandwich (which I had gotten along with the bubble tea downtown) and soon after a bit of briefing and the bustle of parents leaving, I was left with the three kids watching a tv show in the living room. It was fairly late as it was, and because Josiah, the four-year-old was sick, bedtime was very soon in coming. Before long it was time to shut off the tv and tromp our way upstairs. Josiah picked out a story to read, which happened to be Monsters Inc. 3D. I wasn’t quite sure if it was helpful pre-bedtime reading, since he had to wear these silly 3D glasses while I read the fastest and most anticlimactic synopsis of Monsters Inc. – ten pages of character development, one page of conflict and a page to wrap it all off with a nice ending.

After this, I had been told that I would have to brush Josiah’s teeth before he went to bed. I had never brushed any teeth before, so I have to say I was a little unsure about how it was going to go. Josiah walked into the bathroom, and after perching himself on a stool, facing the sink, simply looked at me in the mirror. “So, I guess its time to brush your teeth.” I opened up the drawer to find a toothbrush, and soon received the run down on the teeth brushing. I was shown the hourglass (or two minute glass), used to make sure that we brushed the teeth long enough, and was told who’s toothbrush was who’s and which toothpaste to use for little Julia, as well as which to use for Josiah.

Then it was time to start brushing. The last memories I have of parents brushing their children’s teeth was from my own parents. I can remember my dad scratching away at my teeth so hard that I was worried I wouldn’t have anything left but nice shiny clean bones by the time he was done! So with this torture in mind, I began very slowly, trying to peer into Josiah’s mouth to see the tiny rows of teeth I was supposed to clean. The two minutes seemed to drag on forever, and at times I thought maybe the sand had just gotten stuck in the glass, and that I would be standing there brushing forever. However, it did finally end, and after some spitting and rinsing, I soon had Josiah in bed, but not before he reminded me that he was supposed to go to the bathroom before he went to sleep. I’m glad the kids know what they’re doing!

Next was Julia, the smiling little one year old, just beginning to say a few words. Jenna, the oldest made sure that I had gotten everything done with Josiah before I took Julia upstairs as well. “You brushed his teeth?”
“Yep.”
“And he went to the bathroom?”
Thanks to him. “Yep.”
“Good.”

And so I had the approval of six-year-old Jenna, and could move on to putting Julia to bed. Again thanks to Josiah I knew which toothpaste was Julia’s, and I guessed the smallest white toothbrush was probably hers too. This time I was even more careful. At first I could hardly tell if I was brushing teeth at all! But soon I found her little teeth, which seemed to have a habit of biting down on the toothbrush and slowing down the process. However, we soon got them all brushed, and after a short bedtime story, I laid her in the crib with all her things, and left her to sing to herself.

Jenna and I watched another ten minutes of tv before she went up as well, thankfully to brush her own teeth. And after some Earth Day education from Clifford, her lights were turned off as well, and with all three doors shut, the rituals of putting the kids to bed were finished. I was surprised at how I was, especially since it was only 8 pm. I only wished that it was me getting tucked into my bed.

And so ended my first real baby sitting experience. I was just glad that I didn’t have to change a diaper, thanks to the fact that Julia filled it just before her parents left. The girl has an excellent sense of timing! The whole evening was extremely refreshing in a way; such a good break from the life of a young college student. It made me excited for being a Dad someday. I know I dread that at the same time – but it really was such a nice time. Thank God for all the Dads and all their hard work.

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Winter Back Again

Just when I thought winter was gone, it comes again. I had so enjoyed the last few days of sun, with temperatures hovering around zero. I even heard birds singing in the trees outside my room. I had almost forgotten that there were birds at all, or that their songs sounded so beautiful in the warm mid day breeze. Slowly the days begin to grow longer, and I start to consider taking the path outside to class, just to get a few moments of lovely sunshine. Puddles form all over the streets, promising an end to this reign of white and cold.

And then, the other night, the flakes begin to fall. Huge thick snowflakes covering the ground like a huge blanket. And winter is back, like a cold that just won’t leave. In fact, I almost got a cold again! I’ve already had my yearly cold that comes somewhere at the start of winter, and I’m afraid the warmth of a pseudo-spring, followed by the sudden snow almost fooled my body into thinking it was time to get sick again. Thankfully after popping vitamin C with the frequency of someone with a heart condition, I survived through and lived to continue breathing through an empty nose.

Today I decided to pack my backpack with some work and head downtown for lunch at Quenched International Coffee House. I work every Friday at this little coffee shop, right in the center of the downtown area. So often, while I’m working I see people come in for a while to get some work done, settle down with a coffee and soak in the lovely atmosphere of the place. I guess it never occurred to me that I could actually do the same. I’ve seen these people in movies, frequenting cute coffee shops, squeezed into some colourful street downtown. It seems so picturesque. And why not? Why couldn’t that be me? So here I am. It’s not New York, and the bustle of life is fairly subdued, being just an average city in Alberta. But all the same, after a lovely soup and a piece of banana bread, facing the windows and watching people go by, life is peaceful.

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Don’t Slam the Toilet Seat!

Coming into this year of living in residence, I had very few worries about how I would get along with my flat-mates and the problems associated with four young men living in close proximity. Being that I had spent time with almost twenty boys in dorms, for a great portion of my school life, I figured there wasn’t much that I hadn’t faced before and worked through. However, this has not always been the case.

The guys and I get along fine. We have no reason’s for getting angry at each other or anything of the sort, which is such a blessing. But I find that often it’s the little things in life that seem to pain me most. I’ve never had a plank or anything of the sort get under my fingernails, yet the tiniest sliver seems able to make its way in at times dig deep at a nerve. It makes me worried about marriage in a way. That perhaps it will be these same little things that get under my skin and drive me crazy.

Do you really have to let the toilet seat slam when you put it back down? Why can’t you let it down gently? And why do you leave the dishcloth sitting in the sink after you’ve done the dishes? It never dries that way and pretty soon it will get smelly if you keep doing that. And do you have to make such a racket taking out the dishes in the morning when some others are sleeping? And why is it you have to stomp so loud on your way around the house and back from the bathroom in the morning? Why, why, why?

Thankfully, these little annoyances in life are just that: very little. They are certainly not something I would ever explode over. I’m sure someday, when I’m married, it will be these little things that will drive me crazy, if I don’t drive my wife crazy first. But it’s comforting to know that these are just small frictions that come hand in hand with sharing space. They aren’t an excuse for the outbreak of World War III.

There are parts of life that you just have to get used to. You learn love, forgive, and to live through these differences and make for the best. I suppose that’s what family is all about.