Dawn Treader.

I love pancakes. They are among my five favourite things in this world. Lather them in real maple syrup, and they give number one on that list a good run for its money. This morning, I got out of the shower to discover that Laura was in the process of making me raspberry pancakes. She had decided that my pancake levels were dangerously low and that it must be immediately remedied.

I don't know what it is about eating breakfast first thing in the morning, but I really do enjoy it.

I have an aunt and uncle who will sit for twenty minutes or so first thing in the morning and enjoy a cup of coffee and chat. When I was young, I thought it was a strange thing to see two grown adults relaxing out on the porch before anyone else was even up, just chatting, At the time, I didn't give it much thought and I went back to doing kid things. Now when I think about it, I realize that they had probably scheduled that time to guarantee a peaceful moment together.

Since Laura and I got married last summer, I've come to realize that, even without kids, it is a little hard to touch base with each other every day. School, work, sports, friends, hobbies and other things can all get in the way. It didn't take long until Laura realized that I really just need to sit over a coffee (or tea in her case) and brief each other on the upcoming day. She knew that back at 140 Bridgeport, Dave, Scott and I had been in the habit of letting a coffee wake us up as we followed the world on CBC news every morning. That was why we arrived at school each morning resembling bushy-tailed squirrels, eager to start the day. Anyone who has seen Dave DeVries walk into Redeemer at eight a.m. can attest to this surprising cheerfulness. Actually, just ask Scott-it probably made him vomit a little bit.

Hopefully one day soon, Laura and I will have a back deck that overlooks a back yard that is worth seeing at 6:30 in the morning. Until then, I'm quite content to have a steaming platter of raspberry pancakes to look at as we prepare ourselves for the day.

goedemorgen.

A portrait of the artist

Some days I feel as if I am on a bobsleigh run that someone else is driving. I mean, I can shift my weight around to adjust direction a bit, but in the the end, someone else is steering and I am in a one-way tunnel of ice being pulled along by gravity-a nemesis I've never been able to overcome for any sustained length of time.

I had an interesting conversation with a man I work with last week. His education background is in English and Museum Studies, but he explained that he was equipped with an eclectic array of passions and interests which have made his career path quite interesting. The more I think about it, the more I wonder if the interests and skills that I have were more of a practical joke than an attempt to prepare me for a meaningful life.

Like Franklin, I can tie my shoes and count by twos, and that's about as much of a pattern as exists. I can be perfectly content in a peaceful atmosphere paddling a canoe and using a fishing rod. I love all sports, especially hockey. I can spend an afternoon under the hood of a car or stacking firewood. I can write a half decent essay if there is any chance of an execution in the morning and I can speak in front of people with some degree of ease. I can run a snake down a toilet drain and I can use a spokeshave. I love learning new skills and hate monotonous repetitive tasks.

If I ever get this MA completed I'll be quite qualified, not for anything in particular-just qualified.

Oh well, maybe one day a suitable vocation will hit me over the head. Until then I find I am happiest if I just go with whatever job pops up, odds are that I will actually quite like it.

tot ziens

A national hero.

I suppose that it is time that I add another post to let you all know what I am up to. Did I get the job at the museum? Did I get kicked out of the family for my last post? Did I ever figure out that my last two posts appeared out of order for some random reason? Well the short answers are Yes, No and Yes respectively. The long answers will be out of order and not as simple.

1) I did notice that blogspot thought it was funny to rearrange my posts. But there is nothing to be done for that.

2) My family does not admit to reading anything I write. Therefore I caught them in a bit of a legal gray area which has them stretched conveniently over a barrel.

3) Finally, yes, I did get the job at the museum. I have been working there for four weeks now and it is by far one of the best jobs that I have ever had. The people that I work with fall into two categories.

a) Retirees who have always wanted to do something in a museum. These people are quite interesting as they come from all over Canada and from all walks of life. The two things they all have in common is that they are all a little intimidated by the computer at the front desk and that their favourite part of the museum is the Royal Canoe section.

b) Academic outdoor adventure enthusiasts who did not sell out and as a result have channeled their passion for the Canadian out-of-doors into this museum which is centred around the outdoors and educating people about how this great land was developed.

Yes, believe it or not, contrary to what your grade ten Canadian history teacher taught you, there is more to our history than Vimy Ridge, Anti-conscription protests in Quebec and that beach in Normandy (all of these are important, but it would be a terrible injustice to the Canadian story to leave it at that). There is an infinite list of people who have added their own bit to the nation we enjoy and who have been forever marked by the extremities of our land.

Canadian history is about trade networks built on the paper hull of the birchbark canoe. Loyalties and prejudices shaped trade routes and cultures before and after the arrival of the first Europeans. Our history is about harsh and dreadfully beautiful landscapes. A blurry line between dreamers and visionaries allowed and propelled characters of all colours to grow larger than life as they shaped and were shaped by the land and water that is Canada.

Did my patriotism just make you throw up in your mouth a little bit? Well, I'm not even a little bit sorry. After spending the past few weeks brushing shoulders with the ghosts of Canadian history and fishing on the Otonabee, I can't help but appreciate what's left of this lovely country.

So stop reading my blog and go for a walk, get in a canoe, put a line in the water or go sit under a tree. This is a great country, so go and enjoy it. And after you have enjoyed it recycle your trash and thank the people who have preserved what you now get to enjoy.

cheers