Well, we've been back in BC for two full days now. My suitcases still aren't unpacked, and our sleep schedules are still out of whack, but I'm already settling into the familiarity of everything I love about this part of the world. Some of these things will be obvious, and some may be surprising ... enjoy!
- Family and friends. The most obvious, of course!
- Pick-up trucks. There's something great about a good pick-up truck. (Except when they can't park it straight in a parking lot. Then they are ridiculous).
- Hockey. Yay for hockey. I don't think any seasons have even started yet, but Easton's registered for skating lessons already ... so I think that kinda counts.
- Home province of the Canucks. YAY for no more lame white-and-blue blood of the failing Maple Leafs!!!
- Hockey hair. Yup. It's true. There's something about it that I love. Ryan has threatened the last couple years to grow a head of hockey hair, and so far I've talked him out of it. Now he can grow the best head of hockey hair he can ... and fit right in.
- HILLS. YES, HILLS!!!!! I call them hills ... Easterners would call them mountains. Drove around some of the neighbourhoods with mom today and there are some of the most beautiful views in the world in this town. I hope to be lucky enough to have one of them when we find a house to buy. Rolling green hills filled with lush trees during the winter; beautiful colours as the trees turn in the fall; a white blanket of crisp white snow in the winter, and ... well ... dirty muddy landscape in the spring. (Spring is not the most beautiful time in Northern BC ...)
- Trees. Love trees. Easton asked this afternoon why there's so many trees in BC. I told him it's one of the things I love best about BC. He said his favourite thing about BC is that Grandma lives there. (awww)
- Wood. Driving past sawmills and wood yards is therapeutic to me. That smell does to me what the smell of the ocean does to other people. Weird, but true.
- The smell of truck grease, and a good dirty shop. Brings me back to going on trips with dad when he was driving truck, and playing in the shop on the farm when the uncles or papa or dad were working in it. Again, same response as the smell as wood. Brings my heart home.
Basically, I could've skipped all the bullet points and just told you that deep down, in my heart of hearts, I'm a hick. A pick-up driving, grease-covered, hockey-loving, tree-hugging hick.
And I'm proud of it.