I was going back to the homeland. The land of bunny hugs and beardos. Cow tipping and puddle jumping. Coulees and sloughs. Dust and wind and sunshine and living skies. My family. Saskatchewan.
After a short and hectic week at home after finally bringing SeaLight home from our epic adventure, I was back on the move and headed for Saskatoon. Sadly, it would be just me as Ana was back at work and unable to take any time off and the kids were both starting their summer jobs the following week. The plan was always for me to spend a decent chunk of time back in Saskatoon (my previous visit was an embarrasing eight years ago), but I was expecting to have a month at home in Paris between trips instead of a week.
Ana dropped me off at Pearson in Toronto and we had to say goodbye yet again. We are hardly ever apart, but we've been away from each other more in the last nine months than in the entire 25 years since we first met. This was never going to be a normal year for us so I guess it's okay and we'll have to trust in the old adage of absence making the heart grow fonder.
I arrived in Saskatoon to a cold and blustery day - very strange for this time of year. Fortunately, I did not come for the weather. My dad and mom and step-dad Rick were there to meet me, and after a tour of Circle Drive (where I was instantaneously transported back to my 11 year old self choking and gagging and complaining from the backseat after Mom sparked up a dart in the car), we arrived at Mom's for a tour of their recently constructed and spectacular new apartment complex - resort style living with a huge outdoor pool, gym, putting green, and a common lounge area with a pool table, comfy couches, and giant televisions. It is located in the Stonebridge neighbourhood, which barely existed the last time I was here but is now nearly a city on its own with every store you could imagine, cafes and restaurants, a wide variety of residential towers and houses, and commercial offices. I could not believe what I was seeing, as the typically stupid city zoning regulations seemed to have been ignored, which allowed a beautiful and efficient community to emerge where you can actually get to all the shops you need and even your workplace without the use of a car. And in a strange twist of fate, my dad and step-mom Loretta had just moved into an apartment complex that is directly across the street from Mom and Rick's! So if the beer and wine runs out at one place, it's a mere two-minute walk to fresh supply.
We had lunch and hung out for a long time visiting then hopped in the car and drove to my brother Curtis and sister-in-law Carrie's place for dinner. I also had not seen their house - a hundred year old groove-dome in the Nutana neighbourhood just steps from the riverfront - as they had moved fairly recently, so they gave me the grand tour then I had a lovely visit with my nephews Lukas and Eliot.
Dinner was spectacular, but speedy, as we had to be at the Cosmo Senior's Centre by 6:45 pm for the Prairie Pro Wrestling extravaganza, for which Curtis had fenangled four tickets. My cousin Jason (a legend of a man, historically known as "Skinnahhhhh!!") and my dad arrived for a quick beer then we drove to the venue.
I'm sure glad I wore my bunny hug (that's a "hooded sweatshirt with a pocket in the front" for those of you not familiar with the Saskatchewaneeze dialect) because that was the outfit of choice for those gathered. But I was missing the shaggy beard.
The wrestling was spectacular. We cheered for the good guys. We boo'd the bad ones. We joined the frenzy of the crown, yelling, shrieking, heckling, and watching the incredible dexterity of the athletes as they beat each other in the ring. It brought Skinnah, Curt, and me back to our childhood where all we did and all we cared about was wrestling and regularly delivered beatings to each other in the basement, the living room, but most frequently on the trampoline, where we sometimes squared off in sleeping bags. Prairie Pro Wrestling delievered it all - we saw a camel clutch, piledrivers, head kicks, heart punches, suplexes, body slams, and there were at least a dozen blows to the solar plexis. There were seven matches, both tag teams and individuals, and we were stunned when there was even a matchup between a girl and dude. She beat his ass for most of the match but he ended it by connecting a boot to her face and dropping her for three count.
Jacked with adreneline, we strutted over to Broadway after the final match, looking for a fight of our own, hoping to ruin some thugs with a clothesline or DDT or elbow smash off the top rope, but by the time we'd removed our clothing and were standing there in front of the Broadway Theatre in our tighty whities looking like clowns instead of fearsome Kings of the Ring, our jets had cooled and we instead re-robed and went for a pint at the Yard and Flagon pub. As we chatted over our beers I glanced around the bar, expecting to see high school buddies or ex co-workers or old neighbours. But everyone in there was at least twenty years younger than me and I didn't recognize anybody.
Curt received a text from a realtor buddy who was across the street at a cocktail bar called The Cocktail Bar so we strolled over there to have a boo. It was a groovy joint and on top of the fancy tables, fine glassware, sexy patrons, elaborate drink menu, whiffs of French perfumes and studly colognes, and coiffed bartenders, an infinite loop of Bob Ross painting videos manifested on a large screen mounted in the upper corner of the bar. While Curtis mingled with his chums, Jason and I were mesmerized by Bob Ross and we stood transfixed, sipping our drinks, watching the trees and mountains and clouds and grasses and ponds take shape from Bob's magical brushes.
It was a fine first day.
Looks like you had a fun day
ReplyDelete