KINETIC MOTIONS How Many Steps does it take to get on the Ski Hill? - FEELING THE ENERGY THAT MOVES US

January 9, 2018January 9, 2018

How Many Steps does it take to get on the Ski Hill?

Do you participate in winter sports? Skating? Hockey? Tobogganing? How about Bobsledding? Have you ever thought about all the steps you take from the moment you leave your house until you actually participate in your beloved winter sport? I thought about this this past weekend, as I enjoyed my time at the ski hill

I probably should not have gone down this path, like I did at the grocery store a few months ago (how many times do you move your milk before you actually drink it?). Honestly, it made me depressed. I could not believe how much preparation I do each time and how much stress I go through to participate in this winter sport.

Do I spend more time preparing myself for the ski hill than I do skiing? Very often the answer is, yes.

Now that I have you thinking about this too, let’s go through the process. Or I will take you through the process of getting me and my extended family to the ski hill on a winter weekend. Note that we are often up to sixteen people in our house. That alone often adds steps, complexity, craziness and even rage.

My typical ski day begins at 7:00 am, when my alarm goes off. I press snooze a couple of times and throw myself out of bed by about 7:15. To get a few minutes back of my day, I lay out our special ski clothes the night before. I grab my pile (my bed is usually filled with at least two sleeping children so I can’t get ready in my own bedroom) and head to the nearest empty bathroom.

By 7:30 I am dressed, my hair is kind of brushed and I am basically awake. My kids are still asleep. My sister, brother and their kids are usually awake at this point, and the collection of random children are loitering around the house. I head to the kitchen to prepare the ski hill lunch. Different people contribute to this process, and the kitchen is usually a scene of mayhem, as we attempt to also eat breakfast.

By 7:45 am I am back in my bedroom coaxing my children to wake up. I throw their clothes on their heads and also throw some kind of bribe at them to get them moving. It works.

8:00 am and the house is awake and alive, with a mix of screaming adults, wild children and barking dogs. Some have eaten, the lunch coolers are packed and it’s time to put on the many layers necessary to stay warm for hours outside during a Canadian winter.

Which brings me to those layers. The first one is the stylish and tight-fitting long underwear. Next is the heavy sweater – it can be a fleece or wool-blend. On top of that I wear my packable down jacket, and my top layer is a heavy (but stylish of course) ski jacket. Try getting all those layers on a pile of rowdy children.

When the clock ticks to 8:15 am panic ensues as no one is ready. Children’s ski and snowboard boots must go on the feet, balaclavas on the heads and coats zipped closed. We toss the lunch cooler bags in the car, strap in the kids and we are off – hopefully by 8:30 am.

I have been awake for 90 minutes already and I’m just leaving the house.

It’s a 20-minute drive to the ski hill. We park and gently nudge the children along the snowy path from the parking lot to the locker to the meeting area for their group lessons. I wave good bye to my kids at 9:00 am. Now it’s time for me to get ready, or rather, to continue to get ready.

Back to the ski hill locker room. By 9:10 am it is, for the most part, child free and a little quieter and calmer. The adults wipe their brows and recover from the insanity of getting the children on the ski hill.

And now, for the ski boots. They are big, heavy and clunky. I walk like some mechanical robot when I wear them. But it’s the only way to protect my feet and ankles and to connect to the skis. Next comes my balaclava, helmet, goggles and two layers of gloves. I pull out my skis and poles and close the locker.

It’s time to walk over to the actual ski hill.

If I’m efficient, I can be on my way to participate in my beloved sport by 9:30 am – yes, 2 ½ hours after I wake up. We strap on our skis, line up at the chairlift, sit down and up we go. If it’s cold and windy like it was last weekend, I cover my face with my gloves and pull up my balaclava to protect every bit of bare skin. We “unload” (yes that’s what the sign actually says) off the chair and get ready to ski down the hill.

It can take me two or three hours, with many steps, to arrive at the top of the ski hill. Is it worth it?

Oh yes, it is.

I look out at the view in front of me – the glistening white snow and the frigid and almost frozen water of Georgian Bay – and I start to fly. All the stresses of the week and steps to get to the top of the ski hill disappear. I may only get in a few runs before I pick up my kids for lunch, but I’ll take it. Oh yes, it’s worth it.

January 5, 2018January 5, 2018

My Toddler is a Menace

She’s everywhere. And I mean everywhere. If Nessa is awake, then she is on the move. I know that toddlers are active and curious little beings. I’ve had three of them. But wow, this toddler takes the cake.

Is it a third child thing to be a toddler menace? I am a middle child, so it’s easy for me to say this. My other two children were definitely active and curious toddlers. I remember when Matthew was an infant we bought all kinds of baby proofing equipment for the kitchen, bathrooms and electrical outlets. We set up a baby gate at the top of the stairs and were ready for anything.

We never used any of it.

He wasn’t interested. If I gave Matthew a couple of pots and a spoon in the kitchen, that kept him busy. If I put him in his bedroom to play, he sat with his toys and books and basically just stayed there.

Julia kicked it up a notch and was a more calculating, curious toddler. She was not a menace, but she quietly hid precious items in unfindable places and giggled in a sly way when she knew she did something wrong. She still does.

But Nessa is a menace to society. And she doesn’t even walk yet! My adorable and quite loveable third child travels around on her bum. I call it “bum walking.” It takes quite a bit of talent and strong abs to move around at the speed that she does. She was quite the lump of a baby for the longest time and wasn’t interested in moving at all. When she started to scoot around, slowly, on her bum, we were amused.

Over the following months, Nessa perfected the art of bum walking, and now that she has combined that with standing and climbing, she can move around quickly and grab anything she wants.

Nessa can open cabinet doors, drawers and even zippers. If it’s within her reach or close to it, she eyes it and goes after it. She has some favourites:

Kitchen pantry: removes a mix of spice jars and chocolate chips one by one and scatters them on the floor
Kitchen utensils drawer: deftly opens it and takes out tongs, serving spoons and whisks. She particularly likes to open the oven warming drawer as well and drop her treasure in.
The water cooler: she figured out that if she pushes on the blue or white buttons that water comes out. Fun!
Diaper bag: whether it’s open or not, if she can reach it, she opens it and empties it.
Bookshelf: Nessa loves her books and it’s adorable to watch her “read.” It’s not as much fun when she feels the need to read every book on her shelf out all at the same time.
Cables: in particular iPhone cables. Nessa likes to chew on them. Yes, I know, that’s a problem.
Anything that belongs to her brother and sister

The list goes on and on. It’s hard to get angry with her because she is just so cute. Oh, and she often sings to herself as she scoots around the house, looking for the next place to cause trouble. Could you get angry with this face?

Maybe Nessa is just really intelligent, way beyond her years (or months, she is only a one-year-old). Could it be that her tremendous curiosity is a sign of her need to explore the world and soak it all up before she turns two?

Or is she just a menace? Cute and cuddly, but one little troublemaker.

I would love to hear stories about other toddler menaces. Were you one? Do you or did you have a child in this category? Am I right about the third child? Leave me a comment here, post your thoughts on Facebook or Tweet me @AliciaRichler.

January 3, 2018January 3, 2018

Countdown to the Winter Olympics

It is 2018, so that means the world will come together this year for the Winter Olympics. Or at least most of the world. I am not ashamed to say that I love the Olympics, in particular the sports celebrated in the winter. Every four years I become an addict. I just can’t stop following it all during those two special weeks.

In the age of technology, I can follow every sport at every moment of the day. I switch between my television, computer and my phone. I download the latest app to keep me up-to-date at all times so that I don’t miss anything. With the Winter Olympics this year in PyeongChang, which is fourteen hours ahead from where I live, I know it won’t be easy.

If the Winter Olympics happen from February 9-25 this year, should I become nocturnal during those two weeks? For example, the opening ceremonies start at 8:00 pm local time on Friday, February 9. That’s 6:00 am in Toronto. I can start my day early for that. No problem.

But once the opening ceremonies are over I will need to go back to sleep for a while and be ready to watch the first snowboarding competition that starts (my time) at 8:00 pm on Friday night. So what if it’s only the Men’s Slopeside Qualification? I need to watch it.

The first Winter Olympics I remember well was back in 1988 when the games were hosted by the great city of Calgary, here in Canada. There were so many great moments that I recall from the Calgary games, but my favourite one was when I watched Elizabeth Manley perform the skate of her life in the women’s free skate. When she raised her arms high at the end of that long skate she knew the night was hers.

For junkies like me, it was great in 1994 that I only had to wait two years between Winter Olympics. With the six-hour time difference I watched as much as I could of the games in 1992 in the Savoy region of France, then a short time later enjoyed them again in Lillehammer, Norway.

One of my favourite Winter Olympics moments actually came on a day in the summer, when no games were happening. It was July 2, 2003. I worked at the Assignment Desk at Rogers Sportsnet at the time and was handed the job to bring in the live feed and manage the content for the announcement of the host city of the 2010 games. Vancouver was in the running, so as a national sports network we had to be ready.

The announcement happened at a meeting of the International Olympic Committee (IOC) in Prague, Czech Republic. It came at 8:41 am local time. That means it was 2:41 am in Toronto.. I stayed at work all night. We had to be ready to watch the announcement live and be ready to bring in any relevant material.

We were a small group who worked all night, and we felt elated when Vancouver was announced as the winner. The Winter Olympics were returning to Canada. It was an incredible moment.

When the Winter Olympics finally arrived in Vancouver almost seven years later it was the culmination of years of excitement for me. I watched round-the-clock coverage. The three-hour time difference didn’t bother me. Staying up a bit later was no big deal for me. I was six months pregnant at the time and wasn’t really sleeping anyway.

The Winter Olympics in PyeongChang begin in just 37 days. I am very excited. I will watch as much of the competition that I can on TV, read about it on the internet and follow on social media. And for those of you who live in Toronto, you may not see me for a couple of weeks in February. Unless of course you are an Olympics addict too and will also become nocturnal. In that case, come watch with me.

January 2, 2018January 2, 2018

A Ruckus New Year’s Eve at the Richler Country House

I started a tradition 14 years ago at our family country house. Back in 2003, David and I traveled to Italy and ate some of the best food we had ever tasted. I wanted to recreate my favourite meal from that trip on New Year’s Eve for my family. And so began a long-time tradition of me preparing an elaborate feast every December 31^st.

There was only one small child in the family back in 2003, surrounded by a bunch of adults. I had also just babysat said child (my nephew) a few days before when he was sick and unable to go to daycare. By the time December 31^st came around he was better and I was sick with a 103-degree fever.

But that didn’t stop me.

I prepared my Italian feast for my family, with creamy pesto pasta as the centrepiece. I slogged through it and took naps throughout the day.

It was worth it.

Since that day, as our extended family has grown from one child to eight, I have cooked a themed and extravagant New Year’s Eve meal at our country house every year (except December 31, 2016, when we were in Auckland, NZ). I have made some crazy meals, like “Pie in the Sky,” “Cheesy New Year’s Eve” and “Everything layered.” I went international a couple of other times, like a tour through China or Japan. A couple of years ago I chose some of my favourite dishes from the TV show Diners Drive-ins and Dives. That was a crazy night.

Have you ever tried Tempopo? We did, on December 31, 2011

For December 31, 2017, I had to change it up just a bit again and went with another kind of crazy theme: flashback to Bar Mitzvahs in the 1980’s. I had a grand plan when I first conceived the idea and scaled it back as New Year’s Eve neared. Would people still own Bar Mitzvah outfits from the 1980’s? If they did, would they fit? Could my father compile a playlist of some of our favourite 1980’s music? Do I remember the kind of food we ate at Bar Mitzvahs back then?

My brother took care of the rockin’ playlist. My mother went deep into her closet and found some unique dresses (I fit into them but I will admit that the waist was too tight for comfort). And the food. Well that was easy.

Our extended family at our newly renovated country house (again, more on that in a future post) is a mighty sixteen people. Oh ya. My parents have three children. We are all married. My brother has two kids, my sister has three kids. And I of course have three. Oh, my sister’s dog always joins us, along with my sister’s in-laws’ dog too, who has moved in for the winter.

Do you remember what you ate thirty years ago? I do! As a child who went to many Bar Mitzvahs, I clearly recall eating a lot of chicken fingers and french fries. So that’s what I had for the kids (thanks to my sister, Darcie, who cooked the chicken).

And what was always on the centre of every kids’ table at these events? Candy, of course.

Every Bar Mitzvah (okay, weddings too), starts with a wide variety of appetizers. I ordered a huge tray of vegetarian sushi (my New Year’s resolution for 2018 is to learn how to make sushi) and also heated up egg rolls and knishes. In years past, before three children, I would have made those myself, but that was not to be this year. The group attacked the appetizers. And like any good Bar Mitzvah, the keeners hung out by the kitchen to be first to the hot hors d’oeuvres.

I also remembered seeing overcooked beef served to the adults. So, I pulled out my always handy Instant Pot and cooked the most luscious pot roast. I served it with polenta fries and a medley of roast vegetables.

The evening was topped off with a small sweet table (thanks to my mother), which included her famous “slutty brownies” (yes that’s what they are called), regular brownies and chocolate chip cookies. Oh, and I cut up a pineapple so that we could feel a bit healthy.

We snacked on dessert as we all watched our family’s favourite cult movie, The Money Pit. My sister convinced (blackmailed?) most of the crowd to put on these strange flannel one-sies, and we got comfortable on the couch and across the floor.

A few of us made our usual predictions for the coming year (sorry Toronto fans, I don’t see any of our favourite teams winning it all in 2018, well, maybe Toronto FC). Most of the crowd even stayed awake to watch the ball drop in New York City.

I love the Richler Family New Year’s Eve ruckus at our country home. As our family grows and we become louder and rowdier, I enjoy it even more. I don’t need a $200 dinner at a fancy restaurant or a big party at someone’s home. My crazy family, in the comfort of our cozy country house, with great food, is perfect for me.

Happy New Year. My best wishes to you for 2018.

December 29, 2017December 29, 2017

Escape by Shower

Do you take a shower at night or in the morning? Early evening? After work? Or do you do shift work and grab one in the middle of the day? Are you quick or take a while? As I have figured out through some deep thinking lately, a shower is not a simple process.

For some people, it’s simply about getting clean. You turn on the water, get in, maybe wash your hair and body, and you’re out. The showering process can be all of 2 or 3 minutes long. I remember, years ago, when I was in university, that I met some military guys who had a competition: who could take the fastest shower. They were in and out in less than a minute, all clean and fresh.

I just don’t see the point of that. You see, for me, a shower is not just about getting clean. It’s also an escape. And I will clarify. I love, after a long and busy day, to close the door in the bathroom, turn on the hot water and gently and slowly get in the shower. As I put my head under the steaming hot water and close my eyes, all the craziness and stress of the day are washed away. I immediately relax.

I don’t want to rush through a shower. Of course, I wash my hair and body, but I also take this time to release the tension of the day. It’s incredible. It is my escape. While I don’t rush through a shower, I definitely take my time.

I like to shower once my kids have gone to sleep (which can be quite late sometimes) and the house is quiet. The night time shower is what I prefer over one in the morning. I think the biggest problem with a morning shower is that I can’t take my time and relax. I have too many thoughts in my head about all the things I need to do before I leave my house for the day as well all the tasks ahead for the day. There is no relaxing, no escape. And often, when I do shower in the morning, there is a husband or child banging on the door.

Then there is the bath. I have always been intrigued how some of us are “bath people” while others are “shower people” I remember one House Hunters show in particular where the couple told their realtor that they didn’t want to look at any properties with a bathtub. The husband said he didn’t understand how anyone wanted to lie in their own filth. As he put it, your body is basically dirty before you get in the tub, so you are lying in dirty water.

He has a point, but I will admit that I am both a shower person and a bath person. I don’t go the route of the bath every day, but if I have a sore back or sore legs or am suffering from a nasty cold, a bath gives me great relief. But like a shower, the escape only happens for me at night. That’s when I can truly relax.

What are your shower habits? Or do you prefer baths? Morning? Night? Other? I would love to hear more. Leave me a comment here, or post something on Facebook, or Tweet me @AliciaRichler.

December 27, 2017

Skiing Takes my Stress Away

I would not consider myself an athlete. When asked if I play sports like baseball or hockey, my answer is often, “those who don’t play, watch.” I like to watch sports and love to talk about them, especially with my son. But not always. There is one sport in which I actively participate: downhill skiing.

My parents first put me on a pair of skis when I was four years old. I don’t actually remember what it felt like that first time as I was so young. It was a time before young children learned about “pizza’ and “french fries” on the ski hill. I learned the basics of snow plow and found my way down.

Our family skied at various places in Ontario and Quebec. Well-known Laurentian hills like Mont Tremblant, Mont Saint Saveur and Morin Heights gave me my first early exposure to good quality skiing conditions. I took lessons at a small place in Ontario called Devil’s Elbow, and sometimes we ventured further to places like Blue Mountain, and more recently, to Alpine Ski Club.

Note that I keep using the word “we.” That’s important. Skiing was a sport my whole family did together – my parents, brother and sister too (she was on skis before she was even three!). No matter how busy we were all week, in the winter our family jumped in the car on a Saturday morning (or during a winter vacation) and headed to the ski hill. It was our break from life and a chance to spend quality time together.

Think about all the sports in which you participate or watch. How many of them can a family all do together, as one unit? Or even if a family can, do they? Skiing is one of those. I felt privileged as a child and even more so now as an adult, to be able to ski every winter weekend with my family.

And when I say my family – I mean my parents, my siblings and their families and my husband and children too. It’s a rite of passage in our family. A baby learns to walk, then run, then ski. And the diaper is still on!

As any ski family will agree, getting ready to go skiing in the morning, in a house with piles of children (more on our family country home another day) can be a rather unpleasant and sometimes downright horrible experience. At the height of the season we are 16 people in the house – an even 8 adults and 8 children. The children range in age from one to fifteen. And no one cooperates. Someone is always crying or screaming or fighting with a sibling. Socks are lost. The previous day’s long under wear wasn’t washed because a child forgot to put it in the laundry. A glove was left at the ski hill the day before and a tantrum ensues.

We rush to the car, zoom to the hill and deal with the next level of craziness: get the kids out, strap their skis and snowboards to their feet and throw them on the hill. Someone is usually crying, screaming or fighting yet again. Is it all worth it?

Yes.

Once I am at the top of the mountain and look down at the sparkling white snow ahead of me all my stress disappears. I can let go. I am free. All the craziness of the week, my career and my family melt away. I let my skis take me down the hill. Yes, it is all worth it.

It’s about minus 15 outside today, and I am in the city and unable to go skiing. But tomorrow, well that’s another story. It may be cold outside (okay, it is insanely freezing), but I will be out there on the ski hill doing my thing. As will my parents, siblings their kids, my kids and maybe even my husband (okay, not the baby, she will be in the daycare). And I will be skiing every weekend this winter. If you need to find me, look for me on the hill.

December 25, 2017

Canadians are Dreaming of a White Christmas

If you live in Canada (and many other parts of the world), whether you celebrate or not, you are surrounded by Christmas. Through the twentieth century, and into the twenty-first, this Christian holiday has crossed over and immersed itself in all parts of society. So for me, just living in Canada, means I am part of the Holiday season and all the good (and bad) that goes with it.

As we live in the heart of a big city, my children are exposed to many different kinds of cultures every day of the year. They see Chinese New Year festivals mid-winter. Ramadan, celebrated by Muslims, is a holiday they learned about in the spring this past year. And there is Diwali in the Fall, which is observed by Hindus.

But Christmas is something else. It’s everywhere. From lights on our neighbours’ homes to commercials on TV to utter insanity in every store, this holiday is all around us. During the month of December, I feel there is a special spirit in the air. We may run around like crazy people, schlepping kids to school, struggling in traffic to get to work and fighting for the last parking spot in the mall. But somehow, there is a feeling of good cheer all around, whether you celebrate Christmas or not.

December in most Canadian cities can feel dark and everything around seems dirty. It’s the time of year with the fewest hours of light and the trees are bare. We hope for bright skies and fresh falling snow. Canadians are dreaming of a White Christmas. And I mean all Canadians, even me.

And this year, ta da, many of us got just that. We made our way yesterday afternoon to London, Ontario, to the home of David’s sister. She celebrates Christmas with her family, and for the past number of years we have joined them. My kids love to spend time with many members of their extended family, and Christmas gives us the opportunity to do that.

On Sunday afternoon, we drove through Southwestern Ontario as a winter storm was brewing, and as we approached London, the skies began to darken, fog rolled in and then the snow. By the time we arrived at my sister-in-law’s home the streets were snow covered and the storm was starting to come in full force.

The beautiful, fluffy white snow blanketed the neighbourhood overnight, brightening the sky with its clean reflection. We woke up this morning to what I love best – that light, fluffy and bright snow that every child dreams of on Christmas morning.

We actively participate in the morning rituals of opening gifts and enjoyed a scrumptious brunch of fried eggs, bagels, hot coffee and other goodies. There are treats to nibble on all over the house, and tonight we will enjoy a delicious dinner prepared by David’s sister and her husband – giant kosher turkey and all!

The snow continues to fall steadily outside, the wind is blowing, sending the snow upwards sometimes too. It’s freezing cold outside for sure, but it’s warm and cozy where I’m sitting. I am watching the snow fall, and it brings a smile to my face. This is what this time of year is all about in Canada – where dreams of a White Christmas come true.

December 22, 2017December 22, 2017

The Food Network Makes Me Hungry

I like to watch HGTV when I have the chance, and I enjoy every version of House Hunters that has been created. I don’t have a lot of time to watch television, but I am also partial to the Food Network. I am not a professional chef (not at all, I have never even attended a real cooking class), but I love to cook and bake. There’s only one big problem with every show on the Food Network: they make me hungry.

The best way to watch any show on the Food Network is with a snack in one hand and the remote control in the other hand. No matter what show it is, as soon as I turn it on, I am hungry. Somehow on TV everything just looks so tasty.

It can be 11:00 at night, 9:00 am or noon, and no matter what they are cooking or baking on any show, I start to crave it. Meat and potatoes, fresh fish, vegetables or a decadent dessert, I want it.

As I write, I am watching Top Chef, a show that’s been on the Food Network for 15 seasons. It brings together some of the greatest chefs. The show is a mix of big egos, competition and great food. Sometimes the food they cook looks so good on my TV screen that I just want to reach in and grab it. I can’t get through an episode without heading to the kitchen to grab a snack, usually a big snack.

I went through a phase when I wanted to watch Chopped all the time, but I have little patience for that one anymore. Four chefs are given a basket of ingredients that they must include in a dish they are cooking for a panel of three judges. By the end of the third round, the final person is chopped and a winner is declared. Sometimes they cook scrumptious looking dishes, but they often run out of time and throw a mess onto the plate. That doesn’t make me quite as hungry.

Then there is Master Chef. This show doesn’t actually air on the Food Network, but hey, it’s a show about food so it fits in here. While I often watch Food Network shows on my own, my whole family joins me for Master Chef. And we have learned that the only way to watch this show is while we eat dinner.

When this show’s main host, Gordon Ramsay, holds a master class for the group of amateur chefs, I watch in fascination then can’t wait to cook the dishes myself. I literally can feel myself (and David) salivating as we watch the master of all master chefs himself cook anything. He could probably make stale bread taste good.

The Food Network has shown me that cooking is not just about eating, it’s also about creating incredible works of art. It’s about bringing flavours and aromas together with design and flair. Today’s professional chefs need to cook food that tastes good and looks great. Not an easy task. And if they are really talented, they have stage presence as well and can snag a TV deal.

But at its core, the Food Network is about eating. You can do all kinds of crazy things with food but at the end of the day, what we all want to do is just eat it. And the best shows on this channel make me want to eat immediately. Just writing about food makes me hungry, I need a snack. Now.

December 20, 2017December 20, 2017

When Your Team Loses, Big Time

We all want our team to win. It can be heartbreaking when they lose. Wouldn’t it be great if the Blue Jays went 162-0 in 2018? Imagine if the Raptors won all 82 games they played? Okay, that’s not going to happen, but we all want our team to win as many games as possible. Your team will lose sometimes. But it’s just pathetic when your team loses badly, by many runs, points or goals.

That happened to my team yesterday. I love the Carolina Hurricanes. I have a personal connection with this team going back to the early days in my career, and I always want them to win. They went all the way in 2006, but winning has been a bit of a challenge for this team since then.

So the Hurricanes lose more often than they win over the last few years (though they do still have a winning record this season). I don’t like that, but I have accepted it. When they lose 4-2 or 2-1 or even 3-0 it’s rough. But they lost to the Toronto Maple Leafs yesterday by a score of 8-1. The Canes were down 2-0 with less than six minutes played in the game. And by the end of the first period the hole was even deeper, down 4-1.

And this wasn’t just any game. They played the Maple Leafs, in Toronto, on the 100^th anniversary of this storied Canadian hockey franchise. As the disastrous third period unfolded (two goals scored six seconds apart, really?!), I tried to remind my Leaf-loving son that at least MY team won the Stanley Cup this century and not 50 years ago. He shrugged it off and laughed, as the Leafs scored yet again.

When your team loses that badly it’s just embarrassing. You try to find something positive in the game, and you come up empty. All I could think of was that at least the Hurricanes weren’t shut out. Isn’t an 8-1 loss so much better than an 8-0 loss?

I tried to explain this after the game to my Leaf-loving son who ran around the house in celebration, both of the massive win and 100^th anniversary of his beloved team. He laughed at me again. He doesn’t know about the many long, sad years when Leaf fans saw their team lose again and again. But I wasn’t a fan of the Leafs. I was – and am – a fan of the Carolina Hurricanes.

Okay, so my team lost, big time. But they will recover, and they will get ‘em next time. Go Canes Go!

December 19, 2017December 19, 2017

Nightmares from Bambi

I was horrified as I watched the movie. I almost couldn’t look at my TV screen. It was just too terrifying. When would she die? How would he react? It was too much for me. And it was a Disney movie. A really bad, yet classic, Disney movie. Have you ever seen Bambi?

I am quite sure I saw Bambi as a child, many years ago. Clearly I didn’t remember it at all. I watched it with my kids on Sunday night, and it was awful. Maybe the problem was that I knew the plot. Or to put it another way, I knew that Bambi’s mother would be killed during the movie. But I didn’t know when.

Would she die soon after Bambi was born, the first time in the meadow, or a bit later, when they nibble on the first grass of spring? I know his mother’s death, by the gunshot of a hunter, was not the only focus of this 1942 film, but it’s all I could focus on.

Bambi’s friends, the furry bunny named Thumper and cute little skunk named Flower, are adorable, sure. The singing birds are sweet too. And oh, his love and devotion to the fawn, Faline, is admirable. But that’s meaningless.

I sat on the couch with my kids, and even they knew, from the first scene when Bambi was born, that his mother would die. We even made jokes about it. All we could think about as we watched this classic cartoon, when will Bambi’s mother die?

When it finally happened, when Bambi safely made it back into the forest and his little voice called out over and over again, “Mother,” it got even worse. Bambi’s father suddenly appeared, scaring the poor little deer, he said, in his strong voice, “Your mother can’t be with you anymore.” So we started to yell back at the TV, “Of course not, she’s dead.”

I guess we all tried to deal with our feeling of utter horror as we watched the movie by using humour that was even worse.

And this is a movie for children? What? This movie is dark and kind of terrifying. What about the scene with the birds in the trees? They talk about feeling that the hunters are near. One bird urges another, who is clearly very agitated, to just stay quiet and still. But to no avail.

This very anxious bird can’t take it anymore and yells, “We better fly.” And it does. It flies into the air, then we hear a gun shot. Then a blood-soaked, dead bird drops to the ground. All in cartoon. I was traumatized. And I’m 41 years old!

Why do people automatically think that if it’s a cartoon then it’s a movie for children? Or at least maybe they did 75 years ago? This movie tackles some very mature and disturbing issues, most of which are way beyond anything a child should learn about in a movie. If my 7-year-old wants to learn about murder and guns, she can watch the 11:00 pm news with me.

Thank goodness Bambi has a running time of only one hour and ten minutes. Even that was too long. I’m glad it all ended in the usual happy Disney way, as Bambi mates with his love, Faline, and his babies are born. But the trauma of waiting for his mother to be killed still haunts me. Maybe next time I will just watch an episode of The Simpsons. They are a nice, normal family.