Ordinary Work Day ... NOT.

It was supposed to be an ordinary work-day for Sarah. Subbing a route at the post office one town over from us--how complicated could it be? There was only one issue: yours truly was her most humble driver. Or would that be "humbling"?

Maybe I forgot that the slot numbers were ABOVE the slots (not below) at least fifty times; and maybe I was responsible for hitting, oh, perhaps five mailboxes; and maybe I nearly raced by a third of the mailboxes on the route.

Still, I wasn't the one who flipped one mailbox flag up so hard that it arced magnificently over the van onto the road. Or got the key stuck in one group box.

Well, we're in this together, right sis? And what's life without a little excitement?

Here we go at the death-defying speed of
35 kms/hr.

Why don't mailbox designers win awards?
They're lucky if they get their photo printed in a magazine.

Maybe the spiders sent out a complaint about the poor ventilation.

Rawther opinionated, some folks.

Mail-carrier's reply:
"I would, if the slightest push didn't put your mailbox in mortal danger of falling over."

A much classier means of delivering mail, methinks.

Don't ever attempt to take a picture when you're driving up a hill while attempting to steer, and keep an eye on the camera screen, and the view in front, and the rear- and side-mirrors, when unknown vehicles going as fast as you are could be trundling up the other side--

well, just don't do it.

It simply defines unique.

Would you look at this? The construction crew actually swerved the road a bit while paving so the mailcarriers wouldn't have to drive in a rut. Good ol' small-town courtesy for youse.

And this striking contrast is the official but very much so recognized (especially when you're driving into it) dividing line between our town and the neighbouring town.

Just think of every bone-jarring, teeth-rattling jolt as the potholes' unique way of conveying the heart-warming message: "Welcome to our town, folks!"

Outhouses built especially for desperate mail-carriers.

(Maybe.)

Originality-award-worthy: not everyone uses a paint-scraper for a mailbox flag.

Had to stop and admire this neat little stream a recent rain had created.

Through sleet and snow and rain and fog the mailcarriers press on. Down mud roads like this? Forget it.

Think we're in farming country?

How's that for a day-brightener? :D

The mayor's residence. If you look closely, you'll observe that he has his own personal landfill site (ritzy, eh?). And a moat. Complete with piranhas.

(Maybe.)

A taste of the "auld country"!

Rural group mailboxes.

(Maybe.)

My dream house.

Aha! Mighty Duct tape inevitably had to show itself somewhere. And isn't that a creative little train? Fitting, since the tracks are a stone's throw away.

Trying to scare away junk mail?

Hope youse are laughing as hard as I am after all this nonsense. :D)))

Jenn

Man Alive, He's 55!

On April 10, 1955, a significant event happened in Dad's life: he was born. Consequently, it changed his and his family's lives. Fifty-five years later, he's still changing lives. Can't imagine what the world would be like without his fun, English sense of humour, his hardworking, determined ways, and his social butterflyness.

Yeah, Dad most definitely is a social butterfly. There's hardly a street in Fort Erie and beyond he can't drive down without commenting, "Who's-it there, still living in that house," or "Did her steps a coupla years back." It's great fun going to the coffee shop with him at odd times, where at least five people will park at our table to say hello, and he yells a greeting to every other person who walks in the door. Not to mention going to the lumber store, where he's bound to holler, "Hey, get to work over there!" or "Look who you see when you ain't got a gun." (Meanwhile, I smile and pretend I've known the folks for years, and afterwards nudge Dad and whisper, " Who in the world were they?")

I heard this joke, and it reminded me of Dad all over. One day Bubba was bragging in the office about how many people he knew. His boss came in and said, "Bubba, I'm tired of you talking about many people you know." Bubba said, "But it's true, Boss; I know everybody." His boss said, "Right. I have a business trip to Italy this week. You can come with me, and you can introduce me to the Pope." Bubba said, "Sounds good." Later that week, as they were standing in Vatican courtyard, Bubba said, "Wait here," and left his Boss in the courtyard while he went inside. His boss waited for the longest time, and Bubba didn't show. Then a man next to him nudged his side, and said, "Hey, do you know who that is up there with Bubba?"

One more of my strange ways of saying, "Luvs u, Dad."

Gratefully,

Jenn

Here's Dad, ready to blow out the candles on his favourite type of cake, chocolate orange. A couple invited us over for a special birthday supper they whipped up in his honour. The cake was--ahh, amazing. :)

(If we're going to be accurate, Dad is 54 years, 364.18 days old in this picture.)

Only took one try... but we'll be nice about that--

won't we, Auntie Jean? ;).

Good pic of Muv and Dad.

Are you up to This?

For all who have been wanting to see up-to-date photos of us: hang onto your hats. Miracles do happen. We're quickly finding the value of candid shots; formal smile-and-look-at-the-camera photos are too stressful for the posers and too trying for the photographer.

Dad laughing after a silly face.

He was enjoying a grand spring day on the porch in the sunshine.

Muv and Sarah.

A lucky shot after the usual "carrying-on." Aren't they a cute lot?

This is the most flattering pic of Sarah and me that I could find.

Mischievously, ;)

Jenn