Real-Talk Thursdays: on being wrong & Father’s Day

I hate being wrong. Is anyone really okay with being wrong? For me, it depends on how much I think I’m right or how much I care about the subject at hand. Was I wrong about what we had for dinner last week? That’s fine, I don’t really care. But was I wrong about who sang that song on the radio just now? No, no I was not, and I will Shazam the hell out of it right now to prove how right I am.  So yes, I don’t like to be wrong when I’m certain I’m right.

What does any of this have to do with Father’s Day?  Well, this week, I had to tell my father he was right. It wasn’t about anything terribly consequential, mind you, but it was still so very hard. Like many father/daughter dynamics (I think), my father and I love each other very much but also annoy the hell out of each other on the regular. At times, it feels I’m pre-programmed to disregard his suggestions and he seems pre-programmed to expect me to do just that. I like to think it’s endearing, though I’m sure he’d have another word for it.

Earlier this week, I was telling my parents about my shower-door-soap-scum-removing concoction, one I’d found via Google, which was a combination of Dawn dish soap and vinegar. I’d had to wrap an old scarf around my nose and mouth while using it to avoid some very unpleasant vinegar-induced coughing. My father was not pleased with my selected method, and told me to stop using it immediately. His advice: baking soda. He told me it would easily clean the shower doors without any of the harmful fumes.  Like most of my father’s suggestions, in the moment it fell on deaf ears. I mean, I got my suggestion from Google, and Google does not let you down. Besides, it had sort of worked after an hour of scrubbing, so why not just keep going with it?

When I went to revisit the shower door a couple days later, I admit that I wasn’t looking forward to breathing vinegar for an hour, not to mention it hadn’t worked as swimmingly as the internet promised.  Sheepishly, I went to my kitchen cabinet and pulled out my baking soda.  Sure enough, armed with nothing but a damp rag and a sprinkle of baking soda, soap scum started to come off easily. Damn it, he was right.

So today, a few days shy of Father’s Day, I got to give my dad what was probably the best gift he’s ever received from me: I called him and told him that he was right. After recovering from the shock of it, I believe he appreciated knowing that I had listened to his suggestion, and really, really appreciated hearing that he had been right. Sometimes, the best gift you can give someone is admitting, without preface nor justification, that you were wrong. You’re welcome, dad.

Throwback Thursday: Christmas Eve Hiking Edition

One of the things I love most about my family is they are always game for a festive outdoor adventure, even in the icy grips of an Alberta winter. One year, my parents and I were brave enough to don skates and cruise around Lake Louise in -38 celsius. I couldn’t feel my feet after five minutes. But it was the holidays and we had to celebrate in iconic style.

Last year, our family once again braved the cold, heading out to Lake Louise for a short but snow-tastic Christmas Eve hike. I believe it was a balmy -15 or -20 which, by Rocky Mountain standards, isn’t all that terrible.  Plus, once you get moving it’s really not that bad. The point is that we spend time in the outdoors as a family. Inevitably this means several things happen:

–My parents take forever getting their gear on at the car while my brother and I stand around freezing our asses off.

–My brother is aghast at the cold because he has 0% body fat

–My parents have to stop several times to shed layers and/or adjust their spikes, which involves many annoyed exchanges between the two of them

–My brother and I get impatient and essentially hike off by ourselves, then have to wait for them at the top, where we quickly begin freezing our assess off all over again

I know what you’re thinking: how is this a good time over the holidays? Let me tell you, despite all those minor annoyances, my brother and I get the chance to catch up, I get to be in nauseating awe of snow and mountains, we are doing something active, and we are all together. Even better, my dad gets super excited to take pictures of wondrous winter scenes and show them to us later at home. It’s a good time, I promise. In fact, as I write this, I’m sad because my parents no longer live in the heart of the Rockies and the times when our whole family will be together at Christmas are growing fewer and farther between.

Not to get lost in nostalgic reminiscing, though that is sort of the purpose of a throwback Thursday post, let me instead leave you with some visuals of Christmas Eve Family Hiking Adventure 2015…I really need a shorter name for that.

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One of my favourite spots to snap a picture at Lake Louise. This is at the very start of our family adventure day.

 

Siblings await parental arrival.
Siblings await parental arrival.
At the end of the trail. My excitement cannot be contained.
At the end of the trail. My excitement cannot be contained.
Family photo...well, minus me because too much snow = nowhere to prop up a timer.
Family photo…well, minus me because too much snow = nowhere to prop up a timer.

Happy holidays to all of you and your families!

Throwback Thursday: Sibling Edition

This weekend, I am on my way to my big brother’s wedding and it will be his 40th birthday within a couple days of the wedding. There’s much cause for celebration.  I am fortunate to have a pretty great sibling. I don’t just like him because we’re family. I like him as a person.  And so, I dedicate today’s throwback to my bro’s upcoming nuptials and foray into his fabulous 40s.

How better to celebrate my brother than to highlight some of the ways I have tortured him on hiking trails.  When I first moved to Banff, my brother was altogether too trusting and too game to join in on my hiking whims. As a result, he suffered many an unpleasant hiking experience care of his little sister, who has a sick sense of what constitutes “fun” in hiking and who (in her younger years) could not be swayed by rain, nor sleet, nor hail, nor hangover.

Top 3 Sibling Hiking Misadventures*

1.Off an airplane, onto a trail: The very first time my brother visited me in Banff, he arrived in town and I promptly suggested a short hike to take advantage of a rare cloudless day.  Little did he know that I would drag him on a 16km hike with very little in the way of stunning scenery.  I am certain a part of his soul died on the long walk out. In hindsight, I cannot imagine why I thought that my poor brother, immediately after travelling for 6 hours, and after years of not hiking, would find a 16km hike with 760 meters of elevation gain enjoyable. The only reasonable explanation is that I’m a sadist and my brother is too trusting.

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Don’t be fooled by his apparent happiness. This is on the way up when spirits were still high and legs were still fresh.

2.Hell hath no fury like a driving wind and rain: My brother is a fair weather hiker. He is less passionate about mountain scenery and the need to walk uphill for hours on end to see it, particularly if the sun isn’t going to shine. Somehow, I managed to convince him to hike 18km to Healy Pass on a questionable weather day.  Perhaps he was lulled by the (relatively) small elevation gain (I think it’s only 500m or so). Perhaps he had given up on convincing me to do anything other than hike.  At any rate, we encountered frigid rain and wind at the Pass, exacerbated by the fact that my brother was wearing a jacket roughly the thickness of saran wrap, with none of its waterproof qualities. Let’s just say this picture captures the essence of his discontent. 

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3.Hangovers, Hiking & Heat: A Trifecta of Hell I have no idea during which visit this hike occurred. I remember merely the heat, made worse by the absence of trees care of forest fires of years past.  I remember the never ending climbing, made worse by excessive alcohol consumption the night prior. And I remember the utter lack of payoff at the summit given the heat and dehydration we had suffered. What resulted was an incredibly long day on the trail, largely spent in silence, because sometimes siblings know that if they start talking they will both regret it.

Even I can't explain the smile. I assume it must be a dehydration-induced state of euphoria.
Even I can’t explain the smile. I assume it must be a dehydration-induced state of euphoria.

Thank you, brother, for putting up with me, and can’t wait to celebrate with you this weekend.

*I feel compelled to point out that me and my brother have had many hiking successes and good times on the trail. It’s just way more fun to recount the missteps.