I’ve had so much to blog about lately and through procrastination and fear of jinxing myself, I went silent instead.

Remember that post I wrote where I was complaining?  Oh, not specific enough?  The one where I moaned about the real estate process in England?  Yeah, that one!  Well it is finally coming to an end.  The house is properly sold with no means of backing out now and we have a closing date.

And we have plane tickets.

One thing I made sure not to mention was the fact that we are not just moving house, but moving country.   Not knowing who reads the blog (and by the comments, it would appear to be 4 of you), I didn’t want anyone who shouldn’t have known to find out before Lee was ready.

Do you know how hard it was for me to not say anything about this?! Not say a peep when the house has been for sale since LAST YEAR April?!  Not mention the short notice viewings, the crazy reasons that people had for not buying it, the fact that we ended up going through three real estate agents before one knew what they were doing?  To not talk about having to circle the block with two hungry toddlers in a stroller 7 or 8 times because the people wouldn’t leave the house? To not talk about yelling at real estate agents while I was in the middle of  a parking lot because they had us leave the house for a viewing, delayed it for over an hour and then never phoned to tell us that they were rescheduling it?!

I’ve had to internalise (read: take it out on Lee only) my fears and anxieties and totally logical flip outs about this huge move.   Our whole life is being packed up and sent on the slow boat to Canada.  No jobs waiting on the other side.  No house (though we will have a roof over our heads thanks to my lovely family) to call our own.  There is a shitload of unknowns for someone who now panics at the thought.

Yeah that’s right; the girl who met a boy on the Internet and left her life in Canada behind is now saying she is afraid of the unknown.  The one who took a Greyhound bus to Kalamazoo, Michigan with her friend and stayed in the middle of bumfuck nowhere with a drunken ex-cop with very little furniture, too many guns and no door on his bathroom is now saying she is scared of not knowing what lies ahead.  The same person who went camping in the mountains in West Virginia with a bunch of people she’d never met and no cell phone reception or much clue as to where she was .. yeah, that’s me.

And then along came the midgets and I don’t want them to be able to start a blog and say “oh the times we had, living in our mini-van and eating pork’n’beans heated via the cigarette lighter,  where swinging from the Holy Shit Handles was our only source of entertainment”.  (note: Get mini-van with dvd player)  Though for a couple of nights at least that would be fun right?  Just like a ‘studio apartment’ version of driving cross country in a Winnebago and who doesn’t want to do that?!

So anyway, my muzzle is off. I can say what I feel like when I feel like it once again and it feels great!!

Plus, getting back to blogging provides endless opportunities to put the packing, cleaning, throwing, selling, and dealing with life on hold.  Just what I need.  Or not.  But just what I’ll do anyway.  Because let’s face it, I’d much rather sit here and ramble on to you guys about nothing than figure out why EBay keeps kicking me out when all I want to do is list a fricking Baby GAP sweater!!

 

 

Never has one photo captured their personalities quite like this one.

14.7.11

It appears that the all of the afternoons I spent with my grandparents’ glass Mary and Jesus (I think that’s what it was) statuette, pretending it was an American Music Award or Oscar as I practiced acceptance speeches into the mirror on the dining room wall is finally paying off.

For years I wondered when I was going to get a chance to be the best soap opera actress EVER or at what age someone other than my shower head would realise that I do actually have the X-Factor.  I was just about to give up hopes of strutting down that red carpet in a dress I think is nothing short of awesome, going to the after parties where I would nibble on fancy one bite foods whilst laughing like Julia Roberts … with Julia Roberts and Vanilla Ice.

Luckily, I’ve had children.  Children who have harnessed my raw talents and in turn are honing these natural born talents ready to take over Netflix and the iTunes charts.

Beware ladies, because Enrique has nothing on Noah:

 

13.7.11: Wind The Bobbin from Kirsty B on Vimeo.

 

And right after music award season is over, we’re going to rest up and prepare for the SAGs and the Oscars!

 

 

10.7.11: The New Jamie Lee Curtis from Kirsty B on Vimeo.

Canada Day 2011 UK

There was a time in my life that I was embarrassed to say that I was Canadian.  I don’t know where it came from, but I do know that it started young.  At around 9 years old, I can remember being in a pool in Niagara Falls and I was talking to a boy from the States.  He asked where I was from and my first answer was “America”.  He pushed for something more specific, so I thought a little and said “North America”.  This apparently wasn’t good enough and he asked what part of North America, so I responded with “The North part”.  Eventually he got it out of me that I was from Canada, and then we had this whole debate on how I couldn’t call myself American and I explained that Canada was part of North America and so I was North American and thus I could say I was American.

(over the years I have won many an argument by causing my opponent to throw their hands up in surrender at my cunning logic)

When I try and think where this, almost, shame of being Canadian came from I cannot pinpoint it exactly.  Though what I can remember is that my Daddy and his family and basically everyone we knew in St.Kitts had an enormous love for their country.  It wasn’t an In Your Face My Country Is The Best In The World And We Can Kick Your Ass kind of patriotism, it was a pure and honest love of the land where they were born or raised.

In stark contrast, I cannot think of anyone in my young memories of Canada who felt that same way, aside from my uncle Al, and even that was already post the Niagara Incident.

Sure, there were firework parties on the 1st of July, but they were really no different than the ones on Victoria Day.  People didn’t walk around with red and white Canada shirts like they do now.  Or if they did, I didn’t notice.

When I returned to Canada in 1988, I was excited because I missed Canada.  But missed it in a Stay A Couple Of Weeks And Have My Fill kind of way.  Not in a Give Up Sundays At The Beach After Church And Live Life Without Sunshine Every Day way.  So after the initial excitement waned, I became a bit bitter and resentful.  Why couldn’t Canada be more like little perfect St.Kitts if this was such a great country?  I mean, really, what was Canada giving me that St.Kitts couldn’t?!  Other than milk I didn’t want to throw up after drinking and McDonalds?

But slowly, I started to warm up.  I started to see the good and the great and realise all of the things that I and many others had taken for granted about Canada.  And soon my love of the country actually separated itself from just being related to exactly what was happening in Olympic hockey.

And then I moved to England.  I had already had a crush on London, but moving here turned it into a full blown affair.  And wow, I could travel for next to nothing and see places I’d never be able to afford to go to for the weekend if I was still living in Canada and Oh My God! the groceries!

 

Canada Day 2011 Timmys

 

But then the newness wore off and prices of travel shot up and we moved away from London and reality hit.  It took SIX WEEKS for a pap smear result and they don’t have rootbeer and the hockey arena smells like socks and the wings are disgusting.  I started to appreciate everything I just took for granted.  And not just the ability to order any type of food I wanted to be delivered to my door instead of only having the choice of  Indian, Pizza or Chinese.   Do you know you can’t deposit money in a bank machine here if the bank is closed? Unless you have a business account?  And let’s not get into the real estate processes.

Not that I don’t love a lot about England.  I do.  But being away from Canada had given me a perspective I never had while I was there.  I still love St.Kitts so much it hurts my heart every time I read about what has been going on there and England is an amazing place to call home, but I am Canadian.  Not North American, Canadian.

And my children will grow up to be proud of everywhere they have roots.  They will be proud Britons – not just during the Olympics, and proud Canadians – not only on the 1st of July and they will come to love St.Kitts like I do – though they won’t get to experience it the way I did.

Canada Day 2011 Midgets

I read somewhere that the most patriotic people are the ones that no longer live in the country they are proud to be from.  This may be true, but I hope that it doesn’t change when we go back.

So Happy 144th Birthday Canada, and thank you for being awesome.

 

Canada Day 2011 MK