CANADA DAY - Pass the Hootch (a seriously non-serious post)

By Melodie Campbell (Bad Girl)

July 1st is Canada Day.  This is the holiday in which we celebrate the birth of Canada by getting stuck in traffic for hours and hours and throwing firecrackers at each other.  Canadians are a hardy lot.

I want to be serious for a moment and give some thought as to how this country was born (definitely a breech birth with lots of screaming.)

Canada became a country in 1867.  I wasn’t at the original Fathers of Confederation gig in PEI.  But I suspect it went something like this.

Father 1 of Confederation: “So.  Do we all want to band together as one country and get ourselves universal healthcare?  Pass the hootch.”

Father 2 of Confederation:  “Yeah, okay, eh.  Sounds good.  Pass the hootch.”

Father 3 of Confederation:  “Snore….”

Meanwhile, the Mothers of Confederation were busy doing useful things like making bannock and throwing venison on the barbie.  And when they found out…well, let me just say there was hell to pay.

“You bozos didn’t include a Caribbean Island??  Come on Mildred…Abigail.  We’re buying a trailer in Florida.”

Because you see: Canada is cold.  It is particularly cold during the months of winter, which can fiendishly usurp months from autumn and spring, and hold them ransom until summer.

And then, just to be contrary, the guys with the hootch made Ottawa the capital of Canada.

Why did they choose Ottawa?  Apparently they were afraid the Yanks might capture the capital if they put it in some desirable place like Toronto.  (Too close to the border, with great shopping and restaurants.)

I’m told that Ottawa and Moscow are considered the worst places to be posted if you are an Ambassador.  This is because they are the two most northern capitals in the world…well, capitals of any country to which humans might actually want to go. 

Personally, I think this is a great exaggeration.  No one wants to go to Ottawa and Moscow.

Okay, Okay.  Ottawa can be a pretty place in summer.  Thing is, it is held ransom by Jack Frost most of the rest of the year.  Look at a map.  Ottawa is dangerously close to the Arctic Circle.  (In actual fact, so are Aurora and Newmarket.  If you’re wondering why your commute into Toronto takes so long…)

In hindsight, I figure the Fathers of Confederation did a pretty good job after all.  Since 1867, Canada has never been invaded by Americans.  We have universal health care.  And best of all, we get rid of our politicians by sending them to Ottawa every winter. 

Talk about punishment.

BAD GIRL HITS AN AGE MILESTONE (head on, and fully fueled by hootch)

 I celebrated a birthday recently.  I didn’t celebrate it very well, mind you.  In fact, I don’t celebrate anything well anymore.  I don’t know how to, primarily because the only time I stay up past midnight is with sick kids.

The thing is, nobody needs birthday parties in order to feel older.  Our Drivers License photos do it perfectly well on their own.  Besides, you know you’re getting older because the cops keep getting younger and younger.  Soon they’ll be putting little cub scouts in uniforms and sending them out with toy guns to man the speed traps.

 

Getting older is particularly discouraging when you realize what other people have accomplished by the age of 35.  Attila the Hun had conquered most of Europe before he was old enough to vote.  Cleopatra had vamped the entire Mediterranean coastline while tossing Caesar Salad on the side, and Beethoven managed to write all sorts of world class symphonies and go deaf before he was my age.  Actually, he was dead by the time he was my age.

The worst thing about growing older is not the weight you gain, but the dreams you lose.  For instance, I’m having trouble coming to terms with the fact that I may never become a major Vogue model.  For one thing, we older broads can’t walk in high heels anymore without toppling over sideways.  Something to do with the weight distribution further up.  For another, we can’t see five inches ahead without our glasses.  So unless Vogue wants a model crawling along the catwalk on her hands and knees, modeling is out.

On the bright side, one of the minor irritants of aging is you tend to forget things.  This has certain advantages.  I haven’t weighed myself in weeks.  I've already forgotten my age.  And any day now, I might forget I am married…