NEW RELEASES
Or maybe Labatts. Molsen?
Sassy has to do a school project for her first grade class on a country of her choosing. They need to make a parade float out of a shoe box, wear clothes that represent that country, and make food from that country to share as a snack with the rest of the class.
Sassy chose Canada. Canada? Of course, I have nothing against Canada. It’s a lovely, quiet place. But I defy you to think of one thing Canadians eat besides Canadian bacon (which isn’t Canadian by the way) and beer. If you’re a fan of Bob and Doug Mackenzie comedy routines you might also suggest donuts, but really – that’s it.
This is what I suggest we do: Dress her up as a Royal Canadian Mounted Police Person, but a bunch of John Candy and Michael J. Fox movies in a shoe box. We’ll play Rush and Bryan Adams music and have a six pack of Moosehead beer.
Do you think that will be a problem for the first grade?
So My Honey took her to the arts and crafts store and they picked up some trees and some moose and beaver and bear statues. They also thought they’d make some paper mache mountains. Then they decided that the easiest thing would be to use the plastic volcano mountains that came with The Bandit’s giant dinosaur box.
“So, Bandit, what would it take for you to allow us to use your mountains for Sassy’s float?” My Honey asked.
“What for?” Bandit asks.
“We want to use them for mountains.”
“But they’re volcanoes.”
“Well, you see, if you allow us to paint them green like mountains, then after we’re done, I’ll repaint them them brown and instead of just having lava on top I’ll make the lava flow all the way down the mountain.”
“But they’re not mountains. They’re volcanoes,” The Bandit insists.
“I know, but we’re gonna pretend. How much would that cost us?”
“Sixty elventy trillion hundred dollars.”
Have I taught that boy the art of negotiation or what?
My husband is Canadian by birth, and I have spent a LOT of time in Canada. In fact, the only provence I have not visited is Newfoundland. I can’t tell you specifically what they eat, but I can tell you what my husband doesn’t eat–grits.
When my hubby and his family moved to the States from Alberta (he was 9 at the time), they landed in Atlanta, Georgia. Over the years, they have absorbed the Southern culture, with the exception of grits. He said the name even sounds bad, like getting sand in your mouth at the beach.
When we go to visit our cousins in Alberta, we eat most everything that we eat in America. In fact, I can’t think of a single purely Canadian dish. Oh, wait!! Does Canadian scotch count? Hmmm, probably not for Sassy’s project.
Good luck to Sassy, though.