Whenever I told anyone back home in Oz that we were coming to Canada for Christmas, they all said the same thing. “Wow, you’ll have a white Christmas!” I didn’t exactly say “Bah, humbug”, but I did perhaps say “well, maybe – if it doesn’t rain.
I’m standing all alone in an empty schoolyard, well, all alone except for a little dog. It’s cold. Where is everyone? Anyway, more about that later.
Where do squirrels go in winter? Their legs are really small, so there’s no way they can head all the way to Florida to sit on the beach sipping tiny cocktails, with even tinier paper umbrellas.
Those who have travelled with us know that our mantra is “nobody gets left behind.” Well, not until today.
I always feel that a place is truly defined by its food because, in the words of Cesar Chavez, “the people who give you their food, give you their heart.”
Have you ever eaten at one of those places where you’re shown to your table, then someone in a black dress/shirt comes along and says “Hi, I’m –. I’ll be your server tonight.” Their name isn’t really “—“, but you’re so engrossed in the menu that you don’t actually take any notice of anything they’re saying.
“Who are you?” said the Caterpillar.
“I — I hardly know, sir, just at present — at least I know who I WAS when I got up this morning, but I think I must have been changed several times since then.” – Alice in Wonderland