My sister lives in Perth, Australia with her husband and 10 year old son. I live in Canada. Due to the time difference, the only feasible time to chat is Friday or Saturday night in Canada, which is Saturday or Sunday morning in Perth. If you have some semblance of a life, which I hope I do, it means we are in the basement for Friday evening movie night involving a G rated children’s animation or a PG rated documentary. The last great family movies were “Princess Bride”, “Goonies”, the “Dark Crystal” and “The Never Ending Story.” With the 80s gone, the modern movie magic is rendered bland for mass consumption and so, unable to sit through another franchised Marvelade of epic battles and much to my 8 year old’s disappointment, we often choose documentaries. Last Friday it was “unBranded” about 4 chums on a horseback riding trek from the Mexico/Arizona border to the U.S./Canada border traversing on U.S. public lands on adopted mustangs. My husband and I smugly pride ourselves that we are giving our children brain nutrition but these documentaries can backfire on occasion. Shortly after watching a documentary on overfishing and decimation of wildlife stocks in oceans and referencing the aggressive fishing tactics of Chinese trawlers in international or disputed waters, my son, the reason forgotten now, piped up at a dinner party that Chinese people were stealing all the ocean’s fish. This was at a dinner party at which one of the guests was of Chinese descent. He was 6 at the time but it made me appreciate that children (and adults) will walk away from a movie or a documentary having clung onto some ‘truth’, however misinformed or skewed it might be.
That leaves Saturday night and really, being 37 and my husband, 43, we secretly harbour narcissistic hopes that we might be hipsters and prone to evenings out embracing cool, liberal musings during 20 seat theatre performances about an Aspergers spectrum adult or midnight screenings of the “Big Lebowski”. Which means, we’re not home during these optimal chat times with our Australian family.
So, upon my sister’s request that I start a blog, I made one today. To give my WordPress standard formatting some personality, I wrote a random phrase I had read scribbled large on an underpass cement wall. It was written in chalk by a group of young christians that were out for what I assume was a boisterous good time: “Cheese is Good, but Jesus is Better.” I’m not a christian, I’m not even religious, but I love this phrase. It means that some 19 year old, back in 2011, still had a sense of humour, and really liked cheese.
I’m not sure exactly why my sister thought a blog was a great communication tool. Maybe if I ramble online, it means I’ll listen better when we finally Skype. I tend to dominate a conversation. Just ask my husband. Anyhoo, there you have it. I’ve used a fake name because I really don’t want any of my friends or workmates figuring out how truly eccentric my inner world is. I don’t even have a Facebook account. This blog is for my family. If you chance upon it, enjoy, but I add the disclaimer that none of the content can be trusted. I have a selective memory and I’m prone to outlandish claims.