Orangeville – We Used a Few Kid’s Luges to Bomb The Hill. Worth it.

Its 7am.

I’ve got stuff I need to get done, but I have been trying to convince myself that it is more important than my bed for the past hour.

Its not going well so far.

It’s been an hour, and I’m either going back to sleep, or I am going to get up. I do the adult thing and get up. I grab my lappy, make my move down the stairs, and on the last two steps, I loose my footing.

Jen has gone to work, but Drew, Lauren and Bec are still in bed. My feet skim over the top of the last step smoother than a pebble over a pond and land on the tiled floor just in front of the greeting area just by the front door.

There is this almighty thud.

Fortunately, I have been able to slow some of the momentum by latching on to the handrail with a level of strength that I didn’t know was available to a man. I hold my contorted position for a few moments to listen if I may have woken anyone. I wait, and I start to sort myself out.

“Bill?”, I hear Drew quietly ask from the end of the hall upstairs.

“Yeah?”, I reply with the same level of curiosity.

“You all good?”

“Yeah”, this time with a defeated tone underlining my voice.

Haha. This is a sad way to start the day. I set up on the couch and begin my blogging of the day prior.

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The happy snow face.

Our day kicks off with the weekly mission to church. Drew is on little kid duties, so he is looking after the tots. Lauren, Bec and I are just part of the regular congregation. Nothing special. Everything is as how you would expect it. The christmas messages and all that. The people are nice and we meet a few punters and have a good ol’ chuckle as we get to know them.

It is now the week before christmas, and we are yet to even really start our christmas shopping. So, Drew, as the legend that he is makes the executive decision that we are going to travel nearly an hour away to get to this epic shopping mall. We have got an idea in mind for everything that we want to do for people, but we are yet to execute these ideas. So, off to the mall we go. We arrive at 1, and we are meeting back at 2. Bec and I head off, and while I am discussing our plan of attack for Ben and Lauren, Lauren just somehow appears in front of us.

Bec clues on before I can give too much away, and we are both surprised. Like, how the hell does that happen? Out of everywhere in the mall, she just appears back in front of us. Lauren didn’t even realise it was us until Bec pointed her out and she heard Bec’s voice.

Cray Cray.

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The happy snow face.

So, we gather the gifts that we need, and naturally, I cant elaborate on them, as I know that this information will end in the wrong hands, and I alone will be responsible. All I can tell you is that we went into this one shop which is about as big as two bedrooms, and had more people in the shop’s walls, than Corey Worthington has at his parties. It was mental.

We recollect at the designated location, and we make the fortunate mistake of heading to the book shop, Chapters. This place is great. There are so many bloody books that I would LOVE to get my hands on. The only thing that is stopping us is the fact that we have to then carry them all around the world with us. I mean, I could donate them to some other punter, but I would rather keep them.

Anyways, we spend more time there than we did in the entire shopping mall. By the time we make the hour and a bit long trip back to Orangeville, were in the late afternoon. But, I have to say, I feel like our time was well spent. Bookshops have this weird way of capturing you and holding you voluntarily hostage. It actually just calms the soul.

We arrive home, and Jen has been home from work for a few hours, but in classic Jen form, she wants to know what we are doing next and how we are going to best use our time. Its great. It keeps me on my toes and makes sure I am always making the most of my time. We decide that we should make use of these Luges we have. We got them from the Salvos, for those who haven’t read that far back, and they cost us $6.

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Luges in hand, ready to roll

But! The other day, we found them at Walmart, for a cool $39. Haha! Take that Walmart. We don’t need your petty toys.

We all rug up, and I mean RUG up. Jen loads us up with all the winter gear that one could imagine. Literally everything. Gloves, hats, overalls, jackets. I have the socks and boots covered, but I’m sure she would have had something up her sleeve. Anyways. Bec, Lauren and I are kitted out, and on our way to experience the snow in all its glory. With luges in hand, and hearts running high, we make our way toward the hill.

I think that I am going to be fine just with my hat on. The rest of my body is going to emanate enough warmth from this furnace of clothing, that I am pretty sure I am just gonna be strolling around in a bubble of hot air surrounding me.

Turns out that my ears still suffered. A LOT. They felt like they were going to snap. Legit. It actually really got sore, so much so that I took my glasses off because they were sitting on my ears. Nasty as.

Were set up on the top of the hill, and we begin, all civilised-like. I mean, we don’t really know how this is going to go down, or how hard it is going to be to handle a luge that is designed for someone half your size. So, we begin lightly. Were sitted on the luge, and inch our way to the round of the hill until the point of no return, and off we go. That was ok, but not as life-threatening as I had hoped.

We take a couple turns, kinda just playing it safe, and then its time to up the ante.

I have to start getting creative now. I’ve got a luge that is barely wide enough to fit my ass on, and definitely not long enough to prop my feet up on. So, naturally, this does require creativity. I try kneeling. Kneeling was a bit better, but not by much. You have less control, which increases the injury factor, and consequently, the thrill factor, but its still not enough. Your feet just end up dragging in the snow behind you, and slowing you down. Plus you get snow in your shoe. Not great.

We keep cycling through. Lauren and Bec have a go, Bec and I have a go, Lauren and I have a go, and it starts again. Each time, I try to push the boundaries more.

I decide I need more speed. I have a running start, but the speed didn’t really up the death percentage much, so that wasn’t much more fun. So, then it’s time to try the steeper hill. This on is like one of those slides with the big waves in them that you used to ride when you were a kid. If you go too fast, then you’ll hurt your ass on the way down, but don’t go fast enough, and you’ll disappoint yourself. There were a few dips on the slope, and that was perfect.

I sit on the luge, and inch my way forward. The plastic on the ice are designed for each other. The luge begins sliding and gains more and more momentum. It doesn’t stop gaining more speed until you either stack it, or reach the bottom of the hill. Each time I tried, I stacked it. I wanted the speed, but could not handle the dips in the slope.

With the big hill conquered, it was time to return to the little hill and conjure up another ungodly way to set a bad example for the youth among us.

And that is exactly what we did. The best and last ride of the day included both luges. I had my feet wrapped around the shaft of one of the luges, while my elbows propped themselves up on the front luge and gripped it for all it was worth.

All I could see was my mouth smacking into the luge I was holding. But, if I play my cards right, I can dodge it at the right time. My head was lower to the ground, so it gave the illusion of going faster, even if I didn’t, plus I was head first, which meant the risk factor was a bit higher. This is what I was looking for.

Bec offers to push me down the hill. Being that she is such a loving and caring wife, she plays her part to make sure I have the best chance of something going pear shaped. She gives me a decent push, and before I can have a dig at her for it, I am head-first down this hill on luges that are made for little humans half my size, all held together by my limbs to create an improvised toboggan.

It was worth it.

I retired my luging career that very afternoon. Having accomplished everything I had set out to achieve in the luging industry, I was happy to hang up the little sled. For those who don’t know, I actually am not a professional luge-rider. For those who can’t tell, that last comment was sarcasm.

Were satisfied.

Were on our way out, and Bam! It hits me. We have to do the snow angel thing.

Lauren is our guinea pig, so she tests the snow by just giving the snow an almighty flump. She lands on her back, “Oh yeah. This is nice snow”.

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Starfishing

“Really?!” Bec exclaims. Snow angels have been on her list since we got here. She is dead keen for it. She falls on her back into the fresh snow, and she starts waving her hands in a nice consistent arc to create the angel’s wings. She’s loving life so much that she forgets to actually do the legs part of the angel.

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Doing the leg bit too

“Ahh babe, you gotta do your legs too”

“Oh yeah”, She giggles and completes her angel. Its pretty cool to see it in person. I didnt think that it would actually look and work out as good as it did, but it did.

We play in our snow as we walk back to the house. It has been a great day in the snow, and I wouldn’t have had it any other way.

We tuck into dinner, and I find out that it is time to get stuck into some more christmas baking. I have been tasked with making the gingerbread house. Bec is always having a dig at me for not following the recipe, so I make sure that I follow it to a T. Drew is making sugar cookies in the shape of gingerbread men, and the girls are pretty much just doing everything else. Everything else consisted of making these bear biscuits out of Oreos, reindeer popsicle rice bars and choccy bikkies.

I get my dry mix done, and prep the wet part of the dish.

The method says to mix the dry stuff into the wet. Bec and Jen keep making jokes about how much of a workout I am going to get trying to mix all this stuff in together, so I am just anticipating the worst. Of course, I would be the one to choose the hardest dough to work with.

Whatever. I’m a big kid. I’ll do it.

15 mins later, not even half the dry mix is in the bowl with the wet mix, and it is as dry as it gets. There is no way that I am going to be able to mix the whole thing in without it turning into a mess of gingerbread rubble. The girls tell me to toughen up and just chuck the rest of the mix in my bowl. “Well, I am screwed now”, I think.

I keep mixing, and it is getting nowhere. Bec comes and looks, and even she is convinced now that it wont work out. She looks through the recipe, and then she hits me with it, “Did you add the molasses?”.

“What molasses?”

She gives me the that look I knew was coming.

She improvises with some golden syrup and something else. It kinda does the job, but only just. We get the dough to enough of a pliable state that we roll out the thickest bit of gingerbread dough you’ve ever seen. We are definitely not making a gingerbread house out of this. We are making a gingerbread igloo. So that is what we did.

It still looked like aids, incarnated, but it was half of what it was meant to be. By now, I am happy with that.

 

Come back tomorrow,

Billy

 

 

 

 

 

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