Thursday, January 22, 2015


A couple of summers ago, we had an Africa hot early pre-summer Muskoka heatwave. It wasn't the elevated temps that made it memorable, it was that our next door neighbours were expecting their first child. I was living at the cottage and doing the ten mile commute, while Goob worked and lived at the house in town. At home for the day (late in her pregnancy) I innocently asked her if he was behaving.

GOOB n' ME. Love that he's rockin' his classic Raptors Jersey!
“Other than the weekend pick-up games of basketball at 2am in the morning, I wouldn't think anyone was over there,” she said. 

"I can sleep through loud music” she continued. “It's the thunk, thunk, thunk, thunk of the ball on the driveway... It's like a slow drip to the forehead when you can't sleep!.” 

Naturally, I apologized.  Told her I’d speak to him and without hesitation, gave her very some very sound advice; if it happened again, simply go to the nearest open window and yell... "GOOB! PUT THE BALL AWAY AND GO THE F*CK TO BED!!” 

Taking the 'unconventional parenting approach' made no matter. The competitive, testosterone filled young men (we totally consider family) let it happen again. The net was taken down the next day and eventually disposed of. That said, though a childhood relic was put to pasture, we've never waivered  as a die hard basketball family.

I am officially going on the record that I am NOT a hockey fan. If you want to know why I don't 'bleed blue' the answer is simple. I bleed basketball. At this particular moment, I just can't confidently attach a colour to my passion. You see, not only can the Raps NOT decide on a logo; they seem to be a tad confused on which uniform colour to wear. Makes no matter. My philosophy has been deeply routed and totally ingrained since my children were small.