THE Gold Medal Game.....

Let me put some context around this...

In 2005, Canada launched the "Own the Podium" campaign to provide funding to Canadian sports targetting the 2012 Olympics so there was expectation that Canada would wallop the rest in the medal tally. Unfortunately, many of the medal hopefuls had not finished in the top three so there was a lot of pressure and much disolution in the Own the Podium mantra.

Hockey (as it is known here - the game played on grass is called Field Hockey) was first played in Ontario way back sometime in the 1800's and the theme was picked up in Olympic commercials "Whose game is it anyway?"

.... and with the girls winning gold - there was great pressure on the men!

So here we are on game day. Adrienne arranged a prime table at the pub for us in front of the screen. Peter was actually attending the game. Two periods down, and likely two bottles of wine down. Canada in the lead. 24 seconds from the end of the third period, the game is as good as won, the crowd is loud and ready to party. Adrienne is on the phone with Peter - "oh no, oh no" he cries, "oh what?" says Adrienne (slight delay in broadcast) and yes, America scores to tie the game with 24 seconds to go. The pub goes silent.

Overtime, sudden death, the first to score wins. You can hear a pin drop. Adrienne can't watch. Hold my hand Kate, I cannot bear it... And out of nowhere CROSBY SCORES!!! CANADA WINS GOLD! The pub erupts in a wave of red.

Who owns the podium?

Whose game is it anyway?

Oh Canada...

Teenage Angst...

OMG! (oh my God, for those whom do not understand the text talk!)

I thought I was getting into the swing of being the step-parent, coping with the trials and tribulations of teenage angst, messy rooms and the emotional roller coaster that dominates the late teen years. Confession: I AM NOT!

This evening, whilst enjoying a glass of wine with my delightful teen, newly of drinking age, she dropped the atom bomb.... And I remain unsure of my emotions - should I be horrified, depressed or aghast - or in fact all three?? Horrified due to the news, depressed 'cause I was never offered such an opportunity or aghast that my 18 y-o daughter has had to deal with such an option.

Brianna announced that she was propositioned. She was pale, shaken and somewhat nauseous... and needed wine to calm her nerves - so from this, we understood that she was not up for it and not in the slightest bit interested! "But what was the proposition?" we hear you ask. Not a evening milkshake with that nice lad from church, or even the captain of the football team? No! Our Lovely was approached by her freshly PREGNANT "friend" and her neo-Nazi, tattooed, pierced and (none too pleasant) boyfriend as to whether she would be interested in the pleasure of a three-some... WHAT?????? YES - you heard correctly!!!! WHAT INDEED!!!!!

O... M ... G!

Back to my having mastered the art of parenthood. So, Barbara Coloroso, what is the text book reaction here?? In the absence of an appropriate chapter, we turned to the bottle of wine for solace and wisdom and rang the sisters to say OMG!!!!!!!!!

Brianna has assured us that we won't be coming down to breakfast to find any sights of horror, like our sweet precious snowflake with her smirking, cantaloupe-bellied friend beside her and a scrawny, swastika-ed arm around her shoulders. There is a God.

Parenting a teen - EASY!

The Grand Canyon

It was due to an episode of The Brady Bunch, circa mid ‘70s that The Grand Canyon first caught my attention. The Bradys, along with Alice and their station wagon, went on vacation (and being so very worldly, we knew they were just going on holidays) to The Grand Canyon. Mike, Mrs Brady (did she have a name?), six kids and Alice at the rear, on the slowest most stubborn mule of all, rode to the bottom of the Canyon. I recall it being hot and dusty and much grumbling from the perfect Brady clan. So when we discovered The Grand Canyon was a mere 4 hours drive from Phoenix – we just had to go.

We had tumbled out of bed early, pulled on whatever and bundled into the car to get Brianna to the airport for an early flight. Daughter deposited, Sean and I looked at each other and thought, hey, let’s go to the Grand Canyon. So off we went.

After stopping for coffee and a map and four hours of driving, we decided the South Rim loop was the go and headed on into the Grand Canyon National Park. Think back 6 hours when we had tumbled out of bed and pulled on whatever. This happened to be jeans and t-shirts; no accompanying sweaters, jackets, gloves, toques….

And now to a brief lesson in geography - the south rim of The Grand Canyon in above 6 000 feet. This is actually quite high, a height where altitude sickness can come into play and in winter, even in the desert of Arizona, snow can fall. So we arrive at the south rim, the first breath-taking view of the magnificent canyon, clad in t-shirts and this awe-inspiring vista is blanketed in snow. This was not shown on The Brady Bunch. It was supposed to be hot, with desert and mules and dust. And us without sweaters!

Fortunately due to convenient car parks, visitor centers and our stoic Canadian blood, the +7 degrees was quite pleasant and our impression of the Canyon remained one of awe. We did experience a moment of amusement with an Australian couple, fresh off the boat from Sydney. Clad in many layers, including thermals, gloves and beanies, they sat shivering in the cold, aghast by our wanderings in t-shirts. In disbelief, the woman said, but I am here freezing and you are in t-shirts. We shrugged, forgive us, we’re Canadian!

Jumping from planes – part two…

I was back the next day to attend Ground School. After 4 hours of instruction, practice and details of EVERYTHING that can go wrong, I was feeling somewhat delicate and on the verge of vomiting with apprehension. This was compounded by the “sign your legal rights away” waivers we were required to fill out – one which resonated over and over….”skydiving is of no benefit to society, the only reason for doing this is for your own gratification” Finally, at the end of the class, I made the call. I cannot do this.

As the time in the wind tunnel was paid for, I decided to go ahead with that but my application to the American Parachuter’s Association was withdrawn and my first Advanced Free Fall (AFF) jump was cancelled. Instructors, administrators, husbands and daughters were all very understanding.

Off to the wind tunnel. We had 10 minutes, on 5 two minute rotations and oh what a hoot. Free fall sans terror! What fun. I had done the tandem, actually leapt from a fully functioning plane at 13 000 feet and had 10 minutes of simulated free fall experience. I could talk the talk and happily sent Brianna and Sean up in the plane to do their AFF Level 1 jump.

The eyes on our Lovely when she landed were filled with excitement and delight. She has found her sport. Even before her chute was packed, she was scheming how to fund her next jump. Sean was back in a world he knew and loved…. and I was able to understand it and be part of it all. A happy girl.

Next morning, we dropped Brianna off at the airport to get back to school and Sean and I headed off to the Grand Canyon! Quite the drive but how very spectacular. And deserving of a dedicated post – so read on with anticipation..…

During this long drive I was running through the AFF Level 1 drills. Check left, check right, out, in, look up, arch, one thousand, two thousand, three thousand, four thousand, five thousand, altimeter, instructor, practice pull one, practice pull two, practice pull three, altimeter, instructor, straighten legs, one thousand, two thousand, three thousand, four thousand, five thousand, altimeter, instructor, lock on at 6 500, wave, pull at 5 500, canopy open (god I hope), vaguely relax, muster at diagonal road at 1000 feet, 90 degrees right then to 500 feet, 90 degrees right to 300 feet, 90 degrees right , final approach, top of buildings, full flare, land, land, safe, not dead, huge relief…..

.. I can do this! My dear friend Judie has accused me of challenging her to do things way beyond her comfort zone – study an MBA, do a reading at my wedding – terrified and completely unarmed, she has done it. Here I am, way, way beyond my comfort zone, but hearing Jude “If I can get an MBA, you can jump from a bloody plane...”

Next day we are back at the jump zone. I am cool as a cucumber. The jump school is delighted we are back. Joe, our instructor, and I chat sailing whilst Sean is arranging hire gear and we wait for our lift. A few practice exits with Pat and Joe and we are in the plane. Slap, knuckle all the other jumpers for good luck. 10 000ft, the French stunt team bail out, 12 000ft the relative guys jump, 13 000ft I find myself in the doorway with Joe and Pat… Check left, check right, out, in, look up, arch, one thousand, two thousand, three thousand, four thousand, five thousand, altimeter, instructor, practice pull one, practice pull two, practice pull three, altimeter, instructor, straighten legs, one thousand, two thousand, three thousand, four thousand, five thousand, altimeter, instructor, lock on at 6 500, wave, pull at 5 500, chute opens woo hoo!! Dangling off a harness, cruising through the sky, toggle left, toggle right. The silence, the freedom! Pat radios – full flare if you can hear me. He talks me down, I land, just off the grass, soft, my chute collapses behind me. I bundle it up, remove my helmet and goggles and ohmigod, I just jumped from a plane at 13 000 feet!

Let’s do it again! Level two…Check right, out, in, look up, arch, one thousand, two thousand, three thousand, four thousand, five thousand, altimeter, instructor, practice pull one, practice pull two, practice pull three, altimeter, instructor, turn 90 degrees left, turn 90 degrees right, altimeter, instructor, lock on at 6 500, wave, pull at 5 500, canopy open …. Okay, I fail on all the drills except PULL!!

Canopy open, cruise on in, this time landing on the green grass. Pat is generous and passes me despite me failing all the drills but pull – then I remember my training, the most important thing in a skydive is to pull. Nothing else really matters. I am VERY good at pulling!

So I am the veteran of a tandem jump, with 60 seconds free fall, and two AFF jumps with 60 seconds free fall and 10 minutes in the wind tunnel – equating to 13 minutes of free fall. Back in the old days, it would have taken 50 jumps to rack up such a record!

What a buzz, what a pastime! I cannot imagine it ever being a primary sport but I can happily say I have done it – not just the ride but TWO free fall solo jumps. Hey Jude, are you proud?