DRE-E-E-E-EAM, dream dream dre-eam

When you grow up, you assume your life is the normal life of all the other kids in the world.  When you get older, you realize just how non-normal your growing up actually was, well, compared to all the other non-normal lives you learn about as time goes on.  Confused yet?

All that to say, I grew up thinking everyone dreams in color.  I do.  Of course I’m not the weird one, am I?  Thanks to the internet, I have discovered that more than 80% of people dream in color.  Not so weird after all, thankyouverymuch.  Yet another fact caused me to pause and consider my abnormalness once again…. 95-99% of people forget their dreams. What?  Almost every night I have vivid dreams and can tell the tales of them the next day.  My children take great pleasure in asking me what I dreamt last night and then rolling on the floor holding their sides due to laughter induced dream tales.  Some dreams have stuck with me for years… for 24 years, in one case… like it was yesterday.  Some are so real that I write them down to ponder later.

While we were away at Christmas I had this great dream (that my children loved) about my husband wanting to redo the greenhouse (that we don’t have) on the back of the house (that we don’t live in).  He was all inspired and wanted to show me his plans, but he insisted the best view was from the neighbor’s back driveway.  The only glitch was that he was naked and I wasn’t walking outside with him.  I’m the modest one in the family, for goodness sakes alive, even in my dreams.  So he talked me into driving over to the neighbor’s back driveway in our station wagon with tasteful “wood” paneling on the sides.  He drove me over there and proceeded to do a 13 point turn in the little driveway until the car was facing our greenhouse (sideways on the driveway.)  But the inevitable happened and he backed up too far and we went down into the ditch and got stuck.  I told him I would climb out the window and go call AAA but he yelled, “You cannot call Triple A, I’m naked!”  And that was the end.  I did not find deep meaning in that dream.  I pray we never own that house or car!  But it WAS funny!

Sixteen years ago, after watching Father of the Bride 2, my husband decided we should move from Spruce Grove, Alberta to Phoenix, Arizona to be near my parents.  I whole heartily agreed.  We put the house on the market and prayed for a quick sale, it was winter after all. Then I had a dream about a lady coming to buy our house. I awoke quite relieved and explained in detail what she looked like to my husband. For ten long months, our house sat on the market and many people came to see it.  Every time I opened the front door, if it wasn’t the lady in my dream, I was disappointed.  Phoenix was calling my name, after all.  Finally one day she came.  I recognized her.  And she did buy our house.  Truly, I think God gave me the picture of her as a sign of hope that there was someone coming.  It gave me a measure of assurance.

Do you remember your dreams?

A Tribute to Our Homeland, Canada!

Happy Canada Day, eh!  Yes, July 1st is once again upon us… without much fanfare, sadly, down here in Arizona.  Not a Canada Day goes by in the Crosby household, however, without singing the national anthem, waving the maple leaf and using out Canadian table runner.  Yes, we actually do.  We’ll probably even listen to Bob and Doug’s Great White North song as well as the I Am Canadian song.  All true heartfelt melodies to our rich Canadian blood. 

In memory of our time in the Great White North (take off, eh!) here, for you, on this Canada Day, a photo tribute to the land in which we met, schooled, froze, birthed two children, played hockey, made lasting friends and of course, spent 10 year and had AWESOME gardens!

Rick and I met at Trinity Western University in Langley, BC., barely over the border.  I could literally run back to America in an afternoon, if need be.  Here is an enhanced photo of our campus.  The glittery blue water is more commonly known as “the swamp”.  But the greenness in the landscape is true as well as that train track on the lower right that ran FAR too close to our dorms in the middle of the night.

During college, we also lived in Fort Langley, a sleepy little historical town just north of the campus.  Again, we somehow gravitated to the train tracks…. unfortunately, much closer that time.  We lived in a basement suite at about 11:00 in the following picture, this side of the island. 

When we finished school, Rick accepted his first flying job in Fort Vermilion, Alberta, a dinky northern town nestled on the Peace River.

This is what we looked like when we took off our hoods:

Larisa was born while we lived in the North country, but we quickly moved south to the little town of Spruce Grove, Alberta, just outside of Edmonton, Rick’s birthplace.  It was an eight hour drive from the Fort… AND there was Taco Bell.  We had returned to civilization!  Whew.

We were only 15 minutes from West Edmonton Mall, known simply as “West Ed”, the largest mall in Canada.  It was sublime.  We spent many a day there shopping (obviously), seeing movies at the $2 theater, watching the dolphins, steering clear of Hooters and buying material at Fanny’s Fabrics.  There is even a gigantic water park to make it seem like you are really in some warmer climate in a balmier part of the earth.

It was in Edmonton that Austin was born and from the Edmonton area that we made our departure to my homeland, the United States of America, known in Canada simply as “The States“.  We have been in AZ for 12.5 years and we still miss Canada… from late May to early October.  Happy Canada Day, eh!

?#1 from My Sister’s Jar – Fav Holiday

Tell about a favorite holiday tradition you had growing up.

Who doesn’t love Christmas? Well, you know, other than Orthodox Jewish people.  There are so many little gems wrapped up in my mind involving traditions, tastes, sights, smells, feelings and songs.

Spritz.  Mom would make those darling, dainty pressed-cookies each year that melted in your mouth as sugar-buttery goodness.  Yum!

Carolling.  Not that we participated much, but I loved the few successful times we did.  One was in Fort Vermilion, Alberta when Dad, Mom and Christy came up for a -40 degree Christmas.  We sang four part harmony to the Hepburns on a crystal clear, freezing night under the moonlight.  It was delightful.

Candlelight Church Services.  I’ve only been to 3 or 4, but there is something holy about candle light in Jesus’ house on his birthday.  Of course, not a single candle-lit service passed without me visualizing Michael Jackson’s hair bursting into flames on that Coke commercial.

Nanaimo Bars.  Many Canadian mothers made ’em.  Only mine cut the custard layer and hand-spread the chocolate on each one.  You know, those chocolated-then-cut bars always tasted a little cheap to me.

Christmas Lights.  Sparkling lights on houses and in yards are so beautiful ~ especially in snow. I think that is the lone happy memory I have about living in Northern Canada in the wintertime – OK, that’s two, counting the four part carolling aforementioned.  One year when we lived in Spruce Grove, we drove into Edmonton with all the Crosby’s in our party van.  We went to Candy Cane Lane and drove with the windows down and the sliding door open.  OK, freezing but fun.

Fire in the Fireplace.  Crackling.  Popping.  Hissing.  Spitting.  There’s something LIVE in a fire.  I also am secretly addicted to staying warm – so a toasty hearth draws me like a fly to fly paper.

The Empty Ornament Box.  It was 1992… or was it ’93? We were stuck in Fort Vermilion for Christmas so my family sent a box of gifts to us.  I don’t remember any other contents of that box – but a single small package addressed to Rick.  It was an empty box that was supposed to have a Hallmark ornament in it.  Mom never checked if it was actually in there when she bought it… and well… it wasn’t… mailed 2,000 miles to the frozen tundra…empty.  Still makes me smile.

Drift Wood Angel.  Dad’s cousin Jo painted an angel on a large piece of driftwood that hung near our entry all the days of my childhood.  When tole-painted angels on driftwood finally went out of style ~ I inherited it… in 2005.  I have proudly hung the slab in our entry ever since.  Long live driftwood angels!  Noel.