She’s playing hockey with a warped puck!

I was trying to find some truly canadian sayings for this post, I came across this site:
10 Sayings Every Canadian Should Know

I never heard any of them before, but I like a few of them.

Then there was this treatise on eh?

Then there is some summer sayings, and winter sayings. My favorite is: I am going to feed you a shut-up sandwich (I can't say my other favorite because this is supposed to be G-rated, warning these links are not so G-rated).

And I don't know how this really relates to Canadians, but it is about a much loved fruit: Pomegranates.

Ahhh, look at this phrase of endearment
Je te connais comme si je t'avais tricoté. 'I know you as if I had knitted you.'

HaHa, here's another you might like:
How cold was it last night in southern Ontario? I saw a squirrel towing a blue jay to get it started south.

Ok, I should get on with this post. I am wasting my day already. But I have read some interesting things this morning. All about Canadians. This is just a filler post until I finish the next day of time.

Oh, Canada...

If you are reading this then I actually pressed the publish button and created a post about my life instead of the occasional filler that really doesn't do much for those who are dying to know what I am up to these days.

I will attempt now to do what I wish I did while I was in China. I am going to blog about my trip to Canada while I am still on my trip in Canada. Creating small packages of history instead of those large chunks that causes paralysis and loss of consciousness to the writer (and reader) such that it (the post), most often than not, never sees the light of day. (Editor's note: now that this post is 90% finished it is clear to me that this is not going to be one of those little packages. Enjoy this gigantic chunk, I hope I have energy to write again someday.)

Well, hello there reader. This is I. World Traveler of the Time and Space. I am currently in Canada, eastern Canada. More specifically I am in Toronto, Ontario. Feel free to join me here. I wouldn't mind you dropping in and spending a day with me. Why don't I tell you about my trip so far, then you can decide to participate in the future or not.

So, Thursday I tried very hard to leave Logan early in the afternoon, I wanted to get down to SLC with enough time to run errands to a few various stores that are not found anywhere in the environs of Logan, such as Target. My flight to the East wasn't until the next morning early, but I wanted to be sure to have time to relax the night before rather than be the typical whirlwind of disaster and panic in my little sister's home pulling random loose items out of my car to pack my luggage hoping that I had put enough stuff in the car to satisfy my needs during the extent of my trip. I had envisioned my departure in dreams, my bags were packed and I was a walking pillar of organization. I wanted to leave by 10 am, but Wednesday night I began to realize that would be impossible and I would be lucky to leave by 12 o'clock, so I revised my departure time, no sweat. By Thursday morning I knew 2 pm would be the earliest I could leave. Finally at 6 pm I made my first attempt at leaving Cache Valley. I even got in my car and drove towards out-of-town, but at the boundary of town and out-of-town I turned around and headed back the way I came. I tried again to leave at 6:30 pm, and finally busted free of the invisible restraints causing such a trial to my soul. Why did it take so long for me to leave Logan? I am not that attached to the place. In fact I really want to move away. Why could I not leave? Because I have so many things I should be doing right now. There are so many projects uncompleted, so many people going away before I get back, and so many items I need to purchase, or clean, or put away, or bury, or burn. My room is a sty. My mind is a mess. My job is paying me nothing because I haven't done anything worth being paid for. I have gone on too many trips. Every time I tried to leave I remembered something crucial that needed to be done. I think I got most of the crucial things taken care of. We shall see when I get home and somebody fires me, yells at me, or bans me.

Anyway, I left Logan Thursday evening, packed my bags at my sister's house, slept for a few hours, and made it to the airport with plenty of time to remember a few more things I forgot to do. Then I flew to Phoenix and finally I was on my way to Buffalo, NY to see my parents. Oh, yeah, in case you were wondering, the trip is about picking up my parents from their mission in the Toronto West Mission. Eighteen months have come and gone. The parents are returning from their mission. I thought it would be fun to help them pack and drive home, especially during this time of volatile weather patterns. Maybe, just maybe, I will finally get stuck in a blizzard. Only I hope I don't because I didn't pack snow boots and mittens.

I got to Buffalo and there were no parents waiting for me. I sat in the baggage claim area for an hour before I finally saw the mom, they had warned me that they might be late because they were coming from a zone conference and the weather was going to be iffy. I was on the phone with my older sister telling her that mom and dad had forgotten about me when I finally saw her, mom, she was motioning for me to hurry up and get outside. Because I was on the phone I couldn't grab the suitcases. She came inside to tell me to hurry up. Dad was waiting at the curb, and the nazi airport security person was going to ticket him. I forced her to hug me in her rushing and we pulled the bags out to the dad. There I had to interrupt his rushing to hug him. There was no time for a nice photo. Silly parents.

Then we got lost looking for the on-ramp for some sort of toll road. Ate at subway, they didn't want the famous Buffalo Wings when I suggested it. Who would want to eat a bunch of sauce with no meat? Silly parents. Then we drove out to Palmyra and stayed at some family friendly mormon inn. The room we stayed in had a kitchenette and 3-4 beds (mom and dad's king-sized bed was really two twins next to each other).

Oooohhh, the anticipation for the next day was building. I have never been to Palmyra before. I was going to walk and talk in places Joseph Smith walked and talked when he was a boy. If mormons had a tradition of pilgrimage, like Islam is to Hajj and Mecca, than this would be it. I was doing the pilgrimage thing, I therefore am a pilgrim. But there is no religious duty pressure to travel to these mormon historic sites, except that the Church keeps putting up monuments and presenting large shows at some of the sites so it seems like they want someone to go, and who better than those who appreciate and believe the significance of the historical sites. But anyway, I felt like a muslim on Hajj, minus the white outer outfit and the bazillions of other people traveling with me (this isn't peak tourist season, so I think I was one of 11 people visiting Palmyra on Saturday), and the sites aren't restricted to mormons only.

The Palmyra Temple

First we visited the Palmyra Temple. Hmmm: white clothes, restricted access, lots of people...I am a muslim! This is Mecca! My life is complete. Wait, oh, this isn’t Mecca, this is quite simply a mormon temple, pretty much like all the other ones I have been too. And it is important to note that this temple doesn't have the same historic significance as the rest of Palmyra, since this temple never existed when Joseph Smith was a boy. It was put in to be the temple for this area. It is only a mini temple, you must bring your own clothes (which I didn’t, whoops), and you have to make a reservation to attend. It was still very spiritual and a nice way to start the day. And the stain glass in this temple was very nice. There was the sacred grove motif throughout the temple in nice greens. I like greens.

The Smith Family Farm

Just below the temple is the Smith Family Farm. It is on 100 acres of what would have been forested land. They cleared some for their crops, but probably not all of the 100 acres. You stop first at the visitors center to pick up guides, missionaries. Then you head out of doors to the little log cabin of Josephs childhood. It is just a replica, but one would hope that it is fairly close to the actual thing. It is built on the same foundation.

It was in this house that he read James 1:5-6, the “If any of you lack wisdom, let him ask of God...” scripture that caused him to “retire” to the woods to pray and ask God which church to join.

It was in this house that the angel Moroni visited him and told him about the plates of gold containing a sacred history of peoples who saw Jesus Christ after his resurrection. It was in this house that Joseph Smith grew up. Well, like I said, this is a replica, but it is built on the same foundation.

This is the room where angel Moroni and Joseph Smith conversed. It was pretty cold and drafty up there.

Then we visited the Frame Home built by Alvin, Joseph's older brother. Sadly this house wasn't as exciting to me as the log cabin. Maybe I need to understand it's history better.

That is, except for the hearth stones of the fireplace. Remember the story of Joseph hiding the gold plates under the stones when a mob was coming to take them by force?

This is a nicely set up bedroom scene with a spinning wheel. Had to take a picture to share. Get used to it already. There are a ton more pictures where that came from.

Then we saw the Cooper Shop, here was another hiding place for the Gold Plates. And a barn that Brigham Young built.

Joseph Smith hid the plates under the floor boards and moved them to a loft when he had a feeling that they were unsafe under the floor. Good thing he did, that night a mob pulled up all the floor boards in search of the golden treasure never once thinking to look above their heads. Mormons like stories about dim-witted mobs.

This is a barn on the property. It was built by Brigham Young. It is a very large and beautiful barn. I wouldn't mind having it for a cool place to hang out.

Dad is pointing out some hang-out spots.

The Sacred Grove
Then finally we walked out into the Sacred Grove. It had snowed the night before, so there was whiteness everywhere. The trees were naked, devoid of leaves. the sky was blue and clear. It was nice, but I would like to see it again clothed in leaves and warmer than an icebox. (Click on the above picture and notice the texture and pattern of the bark on all the trees.)

The Four Churches

These are the four churches that caused such a confusion in young Josephs life. They are on the four corners of an intersection in Palmyra.

Zion Episcopal Church

Western Presbyterian: this weeks sermon is on The Unwelcome Visitor.

The First Baptist Church.

First United Methodist Church.

Um, what did we do next? Oh, we then we went into town and ate at the Muddy Waters, a cafe at the Palmyra landing for the Erie Canal. Now that is another trip I want to make, traveling down the Erie Canal. I would sing that one song, "I gotta mule her name is Sal. Fifteen miles on the Erie Canal...," over and over all along the way. Wouldn't that be fun? Who wants to go? Raise your hand.

The Printing Press

Then we visited the printing press where the first edition of the Book of Mormon was made. I never knew or thought the printing press for the Book of Mormon would be a stop in the pilgrimage. It was very interesting. Very nicely presented.

This is the business counter of the printing press owned by E. B. Gardin. On the shelfs you can see many paper covered books, these are the many books printed by E. B. Gardin's business. He only actually printed and published two books, the Book of Mormon and a mathmatics book. These were fully bound books.

These are some game boards hung as wall decorations. I wonder if these were really on the wall back in the day. Or did some cute crafty relief society senior missionary lady think the wall looked a bit blank?

These are where the blocks of letters are assembled (the type face).

These are some "freshly" printed pages drying before they can be folded and cut.

This is where the books were assembled.

The Hill Cumorah

Then we made it to the Hill Cummorah. We met a friendly little missionary couple in the visitor center. I found them fascinating, I think they are more talkative than I am. He is a retired school teacher (K-3) and very interested in bees. They are from Provo. He wanted to talk all afternoon, but we were lacking time and need to head back to Toronto before my parents turned into pumpkins. By this time in the day we would be getting back to Toronto very late. Which is too bad because I wanted to see some of the other pilgrimage sites: the Peter Whitmer farm and the Martin Harris farm. So I quickly climbed the hill and mom and dad drove up it in their truck. We got to the top at the same time. But I must admitt, I ran part of the way. It is fairly steep, I am glad the snow wasn't icy, I would have fallen many times.

Niagra Falls

On our way to Canada we passed over the Rainbow Bridge. Here I was able to see that one amazing drop in water, Niagra Falls. It was dark, and the tourist lights were on, so what do you know, the falls looked like a rainbow. Oooohhhh. I wonder what it looks like in the daylight.

Toronto, ON

We made it to Brampton before the folks became pumpkins. Their apartment building is tall, and is nice, nice and smelly, people and smells from all over the world. And it appears that they know quite a few people in the place, most do not speak very good english, but smiles of recognition are passed in the elevators. Here is an early Sunday morning sunrise from their apartment. How lovely.

Sunday was as Sunday’s do best: church. We drove out into the country for church. Lucky mom and dad got to be rural on their mission. The ward was so sad to see them leave. Everyone gave them hugs and told them kind things. And then a surprise was whispered about here and there: a photo album with messages and comments. From what we could see it was very well put together. Lucky mom and dad. I wish I had a photo album with names from the wards I served in. I met lots of their new friends and could see that they had made some lasting friendships, lasting if they remember to write and visit. They got to be in that ward for their whole mission. That would be hard to leave. I had a hard enough time leaving the wards I served in for 6 months.

Then we tried to visit a lady in a rest home. But she was sleeping. We left her cookies.

Then we went home and a few of us had naps. Mom wrote her famous letter to family and friends.

Then we went to dinner at the cat ladies' house. It is a mom and daughter who always have the missionaries over for dinner, senior couples and the young bucks. They supposedly have a cat that befriended dad. But I never saw it. They love their cat. They have taken it to photo studios for pictures. I don't think I would love my children that much. I don't like photo studios. I wonder if they know about that one person making memorial art pieces out of favored pet ashes, called Petstone, that way they can have something classy in their home and when asked about it they can say when asked, "What is that piece of art on the wall?", "Oh, that? that is my cat." So nice. We ate dinner with Elder and Sister Whitney, the public relations missionaries. They are very talkative and amicable.

Then we went home and to bed. After a little tv and computer time. Senior couples have very different rules. I wonder if I went on a second mission as a service missionary to some 3rd world country if I would be able to date? I mean, I served my proselyting mission, I followed all the rules. This second mission would be as if I was a really young senior missionary. What if I met someone I liked? would I be able to date them? Maybe I should shoot for a service mission in a really affluent neighborhood. Then I could be searching for a really rich sugar-daddy single mormon man seeking missionary-minded single mormon woman.

Bubble Girl

I don't know if I should be offended. In some ways I think someone is making fun of me. My cousin Maryanne had her quiz results posted on her blog. I decided to find out my own seduction style. I guess I live in a bubble and my style is Adorable and Innocent. Hmmm, maybe I should take the quiz again. I don't feel adorable and innocent. Well, maybe innocent, but I don't feel adorable.

If you cannot get the link to work try clicking on "extras" and then clicking the quiz.