Super Fan

JKS writes me love letters at McNally Robinson in Winnipeg

Well kids, it's nigh on five years since moving to Winnipeg. Some of you may recall when I first started Olivebits I had a bit of a crush on The Weakerthans (see blog post Winnipeg Love Letters: W is for The Weakerthans). I guess if I'm being truly honest, the crush may have been directed at John K. Samson. Sure, he's not your typical crush material. But ever since high school, I've had a thing for the geeky smart boys.

In this post's collage you'll see I've finally got my wish: a personalized note from JKS thanking ME for moving to Winnipeg. It's a dream come true for a Super Fan. But truthfully, more than this sweet dream, this lovely iPhone collage, this token of my fandom, I have something more amazing.

These awesome images of the awesome JKS were taken by Jay, my very own geeky (handsome!) smart boy. While I was at home preparing for our 10 year old's birthday slumber party, he, the one who hates waiting, was waiting patiently in line for an autograph. He knew how much it would mean to me to have the book of lyrics and poems. He knew how much it would mean to me to have that personalized one-liner from a great Winnipeg ambassador. He knew I would never stop talking about it. He knew all this, and despite a whole world of embarrassment for him, he still did it. For me. For the Super Fan.

He's off to bed now. I hope he knows that deep in my heart, and way out on my sleeve, I am HIS Super Fan. And he, forever and a day, will be my number one geeky smart boy.

Skating

I grew up on the west coast. As a kid my dad would take me skating at the local arena. Now I really don't think this stands out as a fond memory because I loved to skate; I have a sneaky feeling it had more to do with the post-skate vending machine hot chocolate. Mmm, watery chocolate beverage.

This past weekend, the weather in Winnipeg was freakishly warm. So much so, it prompted me to break my lazy streak and take the family out skating. My son (a chip off the ole ice block) has never shown much of an interest in skating. He was far more interested in keeping his boots on, while  slipping, sliding and prat falling. Clearly, he too was in it for the post-skate watery hot chocolate.

So imagine my surprise this weekend when he happily donned his rented skates. He grabbed his Dad's hand and away they were off down the trail. Before I knew it, he let go. Wobbling, shuffling, and beaming from ear-to-ear, the little guy was off to catch his sister and her buddy. A new love of skating was born! *Insert Proud Parent Pride Here*

Realistically though, I know full well that in his mind, skating was about to be one more thing he could kick his sister's butt at. Oh yes, sibling rivalry is alive and well in Winnipeg.

Post Post-Script: Something you non-Winnipeggers may not know: Winnipeg is in the Guinness Book of World Records for the longest outdoor skating trail (a whopping 8.5 kms). And, just today, the Toronto Star did a feature story on our architecturally marvellous warming huts (http://www.thestar.com/business/article/1121473--reasons-to-visit-winnipeg-in-winter-starchitect-frank-gehry-and-a-spray-on-igloo). Winterpeg Rocks!

You've Had a Helluva Year, Winnipeg

When I moved here four-and-a-half years ago, the little hamlet of Winnipeg was having a bad day. Well, more like a bad couple of decades. You've all read about how much that bugged me. How I struggled to understand how people could feel so lousy about their city. Well, fast forward to 2011. Big changes are in the works, and Winnipeggers are PUMPED.

I'd wager to say it's a phenomenon that not a lot of people experience. It's like those cartoon snowballs that start out tiny, gain momentum, and morph into a massive hurtling snow planet. The progress snowball started with rumours of the Jets return (for 15 years they've been returning, so it was a mostly ignored rumour), then we see construction on Portage of funky new rental apartments. Next thing we know, the snowball's getting bigger: Ikea is coming to Winnipeg! Not just any Ikea, but the largest Ikea in Canada. Then construction of the first national museum outside of Ottawa. A Grey Cup final for the Blue Bombers to match their new home stadium. Then the beautiful reconstruction and revitalization of the city's Assiniboine Park and Zoo (the snowball's getting HUGE). Next the swishy new James Richardson International Airport. And oooh, how about a new entertainment district downtown?

Of course you know by now, the Jets DID come back. And wow, they couldn't have wished for more appreciative, adoring, decibel-busting fan club. I saved this one for last because arguably, it catalysed the biggest mood-transformation I've ever witnessed. And while I'm not a huge spectator sport fan, I am a huge fan of community pride. And for the first time in a long while, Peggy's got her mojo back. And just in time to rock 2012. Happy New Year, Happy Winnipeggers. GO JETS GO!

Woof.

I always wanted a terrier. Like a Schnauzer. Or maybe a Westie. Something small, with a lotta attitude.

What dog sits like this?

And while I've always liked all kinds of dogs, big dogs never really registered for me. I found them all rather...boring. Sure, my very first dog Sargent was a German Shepherd. But I can barely remember the sandwich I had for lunch today, let alone the personality characteristics of my first childhood dog.

Jay too has always loved dogs. He just didn't want one of his own. He didn't want the poop, the hassle, the vet bills.  Some may say he's a cheap 'n lazy guy (not me. I wouldn't say that) but I subtly persisted. A cute little email attachment of the "dog of the day" from the humane society. Then another of a sweet pup from Kijiji (I know; damn puppy mills; they always post such stupid cute pictures to reel you in). Jay politely acknowledged them, and then ran away (figuratively, not literally). Of course I was doing this under the guise of "It's Good For The Children". Sparing you a lot of gory detail, he eventually conceded to going to the humane society for a look. He forewarned me: "A LOOK. That's all this is. You got that?"

The place was an echo chamber; a cacophony of barking mania.  Dogs jumping feverishly; desperate for attention. Desperate to leave. Yet there she was. A lazy ole lump, laying quietly on her bed. She wasn't small, but she wasn't big either. She looked like an experiment from Honey, I Shrunk the Dog.  I quietly called her name through the glass. Her big brown eyes connected with mine. Her excitement was detectable only by the tiniest of wiggles in her lower back half.

He tried to deny it. But from the moment he patted her giant head, Jay knew he was in trouble. Even more so when on the car ride home we awarded him the "winner" of the dog-naming contest.

Olive-the-Other-Reindeer ("Olive" for short) was welcomed into our clan on November 27, 2009 and we've been wagging our tails ever since.

Those paws seem impossibly large for such a small dog

Staring down a squirrel

Who me? No, I did NOT just attempt to eat the cat. Honest.