I apologize for the rather long hiatus from this blog. Part of it is because I wonder if anyone reads my ramblings other than me… and, trust me, I do enough talking to myself without needing to write it down. Another part of it is because there were holidays involved. Holidays that were accompanied by travelling. Lots of travelling. But, quite possibly, the biggest reason for leaving y’all hanging for so long is that I haven’t known which end was up for a couple of months. True, Mrs Organized was completely discombobulated and feeling totally out of control. That being said, we’re back… new, improved, and officially relocated! For those of you for whom we actually have a mailing address, you’ll be getting a cute little card in the mail with this adorable picture and our new address in the very near future. Once I figure out how the Canadian mail system works. Hmm.
Speaking of Canada, here’s some interesting things we’ve learned in the few weeks since we officially relocated…
** Milk comes in bags. Yes, bags. Plastic ones. And, no, they’re not resealable. You buy a pitcher, one specifically for milk, you cut the corner off the little one liter milk bag, you put the little plastic bag in the pitcher, and you pour. And the wonder of these pitchers! The bag doesn’t fall out. Even when it’s empty. Amazing. Weird, but amazing.
** Alcohol. Canadians are a drinking people. Problem is, they haven’t fully grasped the concept of one-stop shopping. At the grocery store when you get a beer urge? Sorry Charlie. Beer is only sold at The Beer Store. (Yes, that’s really what it’s called!) And wine and liquor are only sold at liquor stores, typically the LCBO. For an alcohol-consuming bunch of folks like these crazy Canadians, you think they’d make it a little easier. Alas, a beer run actually takes effort.
** Our house. It’s new. Brand new. And apparently FedEx and DHL don’t think we exist. People have tried, to no avail. So, if you want to send us packages that don’t come via Canada Post, let us know in advance and I’ll give you an alternate address. That’s right, no surprise packages for the Valentines.
** Speaking of FedEx, I seriously almost had to show the FedEx man ID when he delivered a package to work on Thursday. I signed for the package, which wasn’t for me, so he had to confirm my first initial and last name. When I told him what my last name was, he let out a few choice words and honestly couldn’t believe it. Yes, it was Valentine’s Day. Yes, my last name is Valentine. Yes, you’re the 387th person to make a comment like that to me today.
** And speaking of choice words. Canadians use them. A lot. And quite flippantly. Not good for little ears. Or stressed-out mommas.
** Buggies. You have to PAY for them at the grocery store. You heard me… deposit a quarter and get a buggy. Return the buggy, plug it back in to the rest of the chain of buggies, and your quarter will be returned. Strange. Very strange.
** I still can’t convert from Celsius to Fahrenheit. I just know it’s cold. I also have no clue how many liters are in a gallon. I just know gas is expensive. And how many kilometers are in a mile? Don’t even go there.
** Language. We’re in trouble when Savannah starts Junior Kindergarten in September. I refuse to spell colour or neighbourhood or centre as the Canadians would. And I won’t say process with a long O. Nor will I end a sentence with the word “eh” (though Todd has bets that I’ll be fluent in “eh” within the next month!). And let’s not even talk about the fact that Savannah will know the words to Oh Canada long before she even knows The Star Spangled Banner exists.
Oh Canada! You are different. You are crazy. You are freakin’ cold. But we’re enjoying you.
Now that we’re somewhat settled, the boxes are mostly unpacked, and the nearest LCBO has been located, I promise I’ll try to do a better job of keeping everyone updated on our journey in Canada. More Canadian idiosyncrasies to follow, of that you can be sure. I’ll do my best to capture the first time Savannah says “eh” or “aboot”. I could also start a ticker to track the amount of time Todd stands in amazement at the offerings of The Beer Store. Or you could all take bets on when my American accent will completely disappear and nobody will have a clue that I wasn’t born and bred Canadian (the horror!). And, hey, dig out those passports and come for a visit… we’d love to have you!
