It wasn’t a great day for landings, but it was perfect for hanging out on the hill, soaking up the winter sun, and goofing around.

If I’m introduced to a good song at a moment in time, I associate it with a specific memory. At Sandbanks last year, it was Eric blasting Yellow Ledbetter by Pearl Jam before the park warden stopped by to gave warning. This time it was 93 Till Infinity by Souls Of Mischief, a track with a true 90’s beat. It’s easy to deduce the general age of the group from the music; the songs that Eric plays on his stereo are the ones that the Bancroft group grew up listening to.

It was the middle of winter for us, but on that one weekend, it felt like the beginning of spring. We donned our vests, hoodies, and sweaters for runs down the hill. The temperature was just under 10°C, and there was no need for heavy down-filled coats. The scenery is beautiful. No one around, no authority telling us what we can and can’t do. The perfect weekend gettaway.

As Aaron noted, Matt’s ability to jump on a board and naturally carve up the hill after an extended snowboarding hiatus is telling of his board experience in general. The one successful landing I got of Aaron seems tiny compared to the jumps that Matt and Eric do, but he assures me that it’s a lot steeper (and scarier) from the top of the hill than it looks at the bottom.

Adam already has the best story of the year. I happened to be carrying when we were stopped for a traffic check on the way up (which made me nervous enough), but it wasn’t anywhere close to what Adam had on him. I didn’t need a flaming shot to calm myself though.

Isn’t it funny that Matt talks about burning his lashes minutes before Adam singes his own.

There were three main crews vacationing at the farm that weekend. The Ottawa crew consisted of Trolley, Aaron, and I. In the Toronto crew was Adam, Efrem, Lyda, and Jim. The main group, the ones originally from Bancroft, were Tyler with Meryl, Eric, Sarah, Matt, and Kate, although Trolley and Adam would also be considered members, and brought their respective crews. Of course, even Trolley’s cousins showed up, as they always do, since they’re only a short snowmobile ride away.

It took a few hours for everyone to arrive, since people were up to five hours away, so time was spent The Streets listening, card playing, and alcohol inducing while waiting. When Eric walked in and said, “WOAH”, Aaron and I completely stopped what we were doing and looked at each other. It was obvious that Eric was loaded already, because he’s rarely so boisterous.

And Sarah’s brown cow filled the snifter when she started.

A few months ago, Trolley, Aaron, and I headed over to the farm for some partying, snowboarding, and general relaxation. It was only a weekend, but it was one of the best weekends in years.

During the ride over, we stopped off at a grocery store to load up on munchables. Every time I see the video, I remember how excited I was, just from hearing my voice. A weekend away with two friends and no worries. Of course, I’m so excited that my voice cracks, and it sounds like I’m going through puberty again.

 

 

Being on the farm is like being in a world of its own. 350 acres of land, including little forests, a hunting shed, snowmobile paths, cows, and limited light pollution. Just imagine the privacy, with the nearest neighbour not even at earshot. At night it’s a debilitating darkness, and the milky way comes out enough for one to make out the distance of specific stars.

Last night I was plagued by nightmares about being drugged with sodium pentothal, held down by sniper fire in a beautifully furnished Victorian home with George Bluth. Between the clinkety-clink of the cubes in her low-ball, Mrs. Bluth said, in a moment of clarity, “If you can’t live for yourself, you might as well live for others”. The words made more sense to me than almost anything I’ve heard in the last month. She gave me a clockwork wink and disappeared, leaving us alone against her hired red beams and smoke grenades.

When I stepped outside to head to work this morning, the winter chill startled me into a false sense of alertness, but it was quickly taken over by a general feeling of uneasiness. The dreams were unsettling to say the least (I haven’t slept so poorly in over a month), and the last thing that I wanted to do was start the day off with a walk on a winter morning before there was any light out. I kept waking up every two hours, and as good as it was to feel exhausted enough to fall sleep again, it felt terrible to not actually be able. It’s as if I haven’t slept at all, and tragically enough, I start work for the new year today. I was hoping to be well rested for the first day back, but that isn’t happening, so I’ll be fighting off a tremendous urge to sleep when I get home. I’ll try to burn through it, which shouldn’t be hard.

In any case, I use the words, “more sense to me than almost anything I’ve heard in the last month” because John is in town. This is the person who knows me better than anyone else I know, better even than myself. Within half an hour of arriving, he helped me realize that I do require acceptance in my relationships, a need that has stemmed from childhood, that the best road to achieving my goals is not always the easiest one, and so many other countless things that I couldn’t have seen for myself. This winter break has been the worst in years, but now, John is here. I haven’t seen him in over six months. Yesterday, I couldn’t stop smiling, after finding him in the peephole of my front door.

This is my vacation.