July Redux...2 (...3? Does the botched try count?)

Alright, when last we visited our heroine...

I'd left you hanging with good ol' T.Bay. The Tunder. Birthplace of...moi. Strange little place, isn't it. (When my family moved to Vancouver Island in 1989, we were highly amused to find out that on the Island, there is a 'Thunder Bay Reunion' hosted every summer at Rathtrevor Beach. Yeah, we never went.) Anyway - there are three reasons I keep going back to this particular small town.

1. Visiting of grandparents and other assorted family members.
2. Persians (scroll down - second entry, after the 'Hoito')
3. McKellar confectionary burgers - the best online reference I could find was this listing: McKellar Confectionary. Across from the now defunct McKellar hospital (ed. note - also birthplace of moi). Doesn’t look like much (and it isn’t) but good burgers, etc for lunch. The owner has a peculiar habit of lining up hotdogs on his forearm while he dresses them (hmm-mm). You haven't lived 'til you've had one of these arm-dressed babies.

Yes, I'm aware two of three are food-related. I welcome your speculation in the comments field.

Anyway, as previously mentioned, I was in Thunder Bay for my grandparents' anniversary. And yes, I played the song. The song I sweated and slaved and bled over. It was a smash hit. At least, I prefer to tell myself that the tears in everyone's eyes were caused by overwhelming sentiment as opposed to gut-wrenching physical pain caused by my awkward transitions. Another fantastic Thunder Bay thing is tubing down the Kaministiquia (bonus points to anyone who has never been to Thunder Bay and figures out how to pronounce that). Picture it - myself and 30 of my immediate family members all wearing assorted bathing suits and sun-gear, sitting in giant individual inner tubes (with a sling thing in the middle so you can't fall through), PLUS three very important cooler/snack (oh, okay - beer) tubes, all attached into one giant floating mass, cruising down the river for a couple of hours. Let me tell you - as long as your younger cousins know you well enough to fear retribution if they try to tip your tube and dump you into the river - there is no better way to spend an afternoon. All in all, it was a really great family visit. I could totally do it again. One day.

Next vacation stop was supposed to be Cuba...but due to circumstances beyond my control (namely - JuGo's budget!), I ended up staying in Ontario. Spent a weekend with CaHaBe at their cottage in Gravenhurst - lovely. Then I picked JuGo up in our swish rental car and we headed up to her aunt's cottage on Kapikog Lake (by MacTier, beside Lake Healey, just off Georgian Bay, second star to the right). Kapikog has a couple of Islands in it that are Crown Land, so we parked at the Aunt's cottage, loaded our gear up into the Aunt's canoe, and headed out to the nearest Island for a little wilderness adventure. We are total survivor champions, by the way. No flush toilets, fire ban, wasps - you name an inconvenience or danger, and we faced it. ha. Seriously, though, it was awesome. I was filled with the spirit of our Voyageur ancestors and much to JuGo's chagrin, was inspired to burst into song halfway across the lake. Come on, if you can think of a better time for a rousing chorus of 'Land of the Silver Birch' , I'd like to hear about it.

(Holy crap I love those last two links - what is it about Canadiana that calls for chee-zee midi files? I'm marking them in my favourites, and I suggest you do the same. Quick, before you lose them!)

During the morning of our fourth day chez Island, JuGo's Aunt pedaled the paddle-boat (paddled the pedal-boat?) over and invited us to upgrade to luxury accomodations for our final night. We thought about it (for about two seconds) and happily accepted. So our final night of vacation was spent being spoiled by JuGo's lovely, incredibly hospitable relatives and their seemingly bottomless wine cellar. Good times.

Post-camping (as in, the very day after we returned to civilization), I attended the second of the two weddings I was obliged to attend this summer. I had to sing a song as part of the reception (accompanied by my fabulous friend FeWi), and was supah nervous, but apparently my fears of nerve-induced-lack-of-breath-control were ill-founded as the performance appears to have been well recieved. Phew. Something from this wedding to add to my ever-growing list of bad things said during wedding ceremonies - the Pastor/Priest went on at the beginning about how marriage is a sacred covenant between a man and a woman (I could already sense trouble brewing), and how in terms of sacraments, blood sacraments are acutally the most holy (Is that an axe and a bleating lamb I see behind him?) and how of course, marriage is a blood sacrament because the BRIDE is designed to BLEED on her wedding night!!! Swear I didn't hear another word until 'may I present to you for the first time Mr. & Mrs...'. HOLY FUCK. What is WRONG with that man? And the worst part is that most of the attendees just sat there smiling and nodding, as though it were the most natural thing on earth. How do I end up at these sort of weddings?

As a final treat, and much needed post-traumatic-wedding-ceremony recovery period, I spent the long weekend in the company of several lovely friends at a beautiful cottage in the Gatineaus (on Lac Dam, to be specific). Slightly rainy, but fantastic nonetheless. I am spoiled. July was a great month.