When I was a kid, and I saw my parents every blessed day of the year apart from the two weeks I’d spend at Sparrow Lake Camp, it was all I could do to get a chocolate bar out of them.
“Go vacuum the basement,” my mom would say when she’d be relaxing with a book and I’d fancy a chat. “Carry your own coat,” when I’d try to offload it onto her at the store. “And you’re not going anywhere, young lady, until you take at least two bites of those beans.”
I had a hard, hard childhood.
Now that I live approximately as far from my parents as is physically possible without leaving the planet and have visited them precisely twice in the past two years, they’ve had a remarkable change of heart. This makes for extraordinarily pleasant holidays on my part. Laura wants lasagne? Laura gets lasagne with buttertarts and nanaimo bars. Laura wants a campfire? Laura gets a campfire with hot dogs, marshmallows and fireworks. It’s amazing, I tell you. I’d visit more often, but it would ruin the effect.
I spent the first 5.5 days of my trip with my delightfully devoted family. I got doughnuts, blackberry waffles, and did I mention fireworks?
The month kicked off with a wedding. I love this picture of the bride, Amy, and groom, my cousin James, formerly known as Jamie to everyone except my mom, who still calls him that.
The wedding was actually preceded by two hours in the car with this punk.
It was also preceded by lunch at the Swiss Chalet, where Geoff and I consumed two bowls of Chalet sauce each, and succeeded by dinner at Harvey’s, where Dad took us the next day following a 14-hour drive home from Kingston. Once back in Kars, I decided not to fight the jetlag and was up braving the bay by 7:00 every morning. A girl’s gotta make use of what time she has.
I sneaked some secret work in, visited with my grandparents, and my mom and I explored some waterfalls.
On my last night we had a campfire.
The neighbours were there as well as the newlyweds, who were doing the whole thing in proper Bishop style and honeymooning on the Belleisle.
Early Sunday evening we said good-bye, till we meet again, whenever that might be, and I hopped on a plane for Montreal. And thus ended week one of my epic trip to My Old Stomping Ground. Stay tuned for week two...