Bringing horror to the blue-hairs

Today, the fam along with my dad traveled to Marshville Heritage Village in Wainfleet.  We do it every year, over Labour Day weekend.  It's a tradition.

Let me pause for a minute here and talk about my thoughts on traditions.  I love them.  Period.  I think they are so important, to have happy routines, and things to look forward to.  I have traditions for every major holiday, and lots of the minor ones.  I have traditions for vacations, and all of the seasons.  Maybe it's a touch of OCD, or the control freak in me.  I don't care.  I love knowing that every St. Paddy's, I will drink a toast to Rosie (my Irish Grandma), and that every Christmas eve, we will each open a present containing our new Christmas pyjamas.  Every summer, we go to the Toronto Zoo, and the first carnival of the season is the Chippawa one.  We go to a cottage each fall, and every labour day, we go to Marshville.  God help the person that gets in the way of one of my traditions.  It pisses me off royally, and even though I might have a perfectly nice day- it isn't the day I really wanted- and my tradition has not been met. 

I hope that I am passing my love of tradition onto my kids (maybe not the neurosis, but I am sure that is rubbing off as well.) so that they can carry it on.  Nothing would make me happier than to hide easter eggs for my grandkids, or have chili dogs on Halloween before we go trick or treating. 

So, according to tradition, we went to Marshville today.  My dad came, but mom's feet were sore and she managed to pick up a shift at the hospital (she retired so that she can spend more time with us and not miss things, but that, too, is a story for another time :).  Every year, my dad takes the kids on the horse drawn carriage, and he gets roasted peanuts in the shell, while we get kettle corn.  Sebastian and I eat pig on a bun, and Geoff and my dad eat soup.  If my mom is with us, we can't go near the apple cider/apple fritter stand, but since she stayed home, the kids got cider to try.  We watch them make shingles and rope and use the two-man saw.  My dad, having finally figured out how to use my mom's point and shoot, took pictures of everything.  Geoff, the aspiring photographer, took maybe 3.  (I know he took more, but I like to bug him about the fact that he worries so much about his camera and lens that he never uses them.  Just ask me about New York sometime.)

They have a big craft show there too.  Years and years ago, I would always pick up holiday decorations and different things there.  Now, having completely filled my storage space, I rarely buy anything.  Besides, it is the same vendors, year after year, and very little changes.  As we walked through, watching the old ladies scramble for a new dust cover for their ottoman, or a wicker angel, I tried to imagine what it would be like if we showed our photos there.  When I mentioned this to Geoff, he laughed too, and said he was just thinking that.  I am pretty sure we would have been removed on the first day.

I got me thinking about myself, and all the sides I have to my personality.  I guess everybody has them, but I think (and I might be totally off base) I am pretty good at balancing all these different aspects.  I can blend in at a craft show, noting the quality of the tolepainting, appreciating the effort in the whittled wook, but I can also talk horror and gore and grindhouse films at the Festival of Fear.  I feel comfortable in both worlds.  I work for a global corporation, as a financial analyst, monitoring hundreds of thousands of dollars, down to the penny.  I can also fish, idenitify animal tracks, trees (in summer or winter state) and hike a deer trail.  I am happy in both worlds (more so with the second, but the first pays all my bills, so it has it's place in my world too.)

I have my true comfort zones, and things that I know and love, and can talk about for days- my books, my favorite movies, my kids, my dog, camping, the north, knitting, tattoos- etc, etc.  But it's nice to know that I'm not trapped there, in that world. 

Anyway.  Went to Marshville today.  Fun. :)

Rosie N. Grey
The N stands for "normalcy".