The 60th, off 69

I told myself I wouldn't act like a kid, like the kid I once was. I'd get some freakin' SLEEP the night before I went up north to my Dad and Heather's place. I'd wake up refreshed and ready to keep Eva awake for the longish (4-hour) drive up.
I lied. As usual.
You know that commercial for Disneyland, the one where the kids (and their father) can't sleep the night before? That's me the night before a trip north. I keep waking up: time to go yet?...Can we go now?...Hey, if we leave now we can be there by sunrise!...Damn, it is sunrise. We're late. And I'm tired.
Thank God for Tim Horton's....
We dropped Tux off at our friend Sue's place, where he could frolic all day (and all night) long with her Greater Swiss Mountain dog, Abbey, and her huge Irish Wolfhound cross, Bear, not to mention Sue herself, who is a dog lover of the highest order. Then the road was hit.
We took 'the back way' up: through Listowel, Mount Forest, Shelburne, and Alliston. This route may take as much as half an hour longer then the usual mad dash through Toronto (and then again, with traffic what it is in Toronto 24/7 these days, it just might save half an hour or more). Regardless, it's a much prettier drive than the drab old 401, and there is a marked reduction in the number of homicidal maniacs.
Between Mount Forest and Shelburne there's a remarkable sight: a large cluster of windmills. We've taken this route westbound several times before, and while we've always noticed the windmills, but somehow the topography of the area prevented us from seeing just how extensive this wind farm is: it turns out there are 35 windmills, each 80 metres tall.
I love these things. I find them much nicer looking than hydro transmission corridors and power lines.
Anyway, we made it up to Britt for a little before noon. The occasion was, as I have said, my dad's 60th birthday, a real milestone of a day. Despite every attempt made to keep the invitations down, there were more than thirty people there, not counting all the kids. Some of them I haven't seen for years, and most of them fall into the category of people I just don't see often enough.
This was the kind of party I enjoy, mostly one big gabfest. Everybody splintered off into little groups and just soaked up the atmosphere, which was four parts relaxation to six parts Britt hospitality. Paul started cranking out burgers and dogs on the 'que, mixed and matched with an array of delicious salads (including Eva's classic potato, bacon, and egg salad) and wrapped up with a delicious cake. You could eat until you exploded without making a dent in the food supply. It came time to open up the gifts. Before that could get going in earnest, Dad was presented with a sixteen minute photo montage of his life, set to music, on DVD. Talk about a tear-jerker...I was fighting back tears, and it wasn't even my party!
I made my dad a little shadowbox, with a picture of him and I from my wedding and a poem that went like this:

All you've seen and all you've done
The service, duty, love, and fun
You've shown me! How can I express
It all in words? I must confess
I have no words--well, maybe one
That shows the world I am your son
Three letters in this little word
A bigger word you've never heard:

DAD.

I think he liked it.

My half-sister Shonna and her common-law partner Paul presented a hand-crafted little incidental table that took my breath away. Shonna is easily the best photographer I've ever seen, and Paul is an accomplished woodworker. They combined their talents on this.
Shonna's just starting a photography business. We bought a few of her coasters and given unlimited funds would have bought up her entire library of landscapes and nature shots. Believe me, you haven't heard the last of her from here: as soon as her website's up and running, you'll know it.

This table was marble over reclaimed wood from the Magnetawan River, with an inlaid photo of Heather (the four-legged border collie, not the two-legged wife; or, as Dad calls her, "the Heather who can lick herself") back when she was a puppy. It was absolutely gorgeous.

There were many other gifts, and at some point I'm sure Dad's in for a bender at Bass Pro Outdoor World. But mostly there was a whole lot of love.

Dad went out as darkness fell and set off some firecrackers as darkness fell, and reminded me of the one flaw in the ointment that is Britt and area. A giant, bristling carpet of mosquitoes was there to greet us, and they set on us with a will. I was driven back inside in short order: even now I feel like they're still crawling all over me.

This morning our departure was delayed by one of those things that can only happen in Britt: the appearance of a fox brought Shonna and her camera out in a flash. (Well, no flash: it was full sunlight.) In any case, Shonna managed to get to within arm's reach of the fox, taking pictures the whole way. Amazing.

And now I'm home, and boy am I bushed.

Happy birthday, Dad.